“Do you and the girls want to come?”
With that much hope in his voice, there’s no way I can say no. I have rehearsal during the day, and though my schedule is crazy, unlike when I have performances, it leaves most of my evenings free.
“Sure.” His face brightens at my acceptance, and that alone is worth the potential blowback. “And though I have a feeling I’ll live to regret it, Zoey can too.”
This time, instead of linking our hands, he keeps me tucked against his side, walking us to the front closet he stored my coat in earlier.
“What about Ella?”
“She has a performance.” I snap my fingers as if to say, Oh, shucks. Zoey is the worse of the two, but at least I won’t be tag-teamed by M1 and M2.
He makes a noise of acceptance in the back of his throat, and the growly sound rumbles through my body, hitting my sternum, traveling down my belly, settling in my clit and fanning the flames of desire he’d been adding to all night like one of the giant accordion fans they use in cartoons.
Yup, definitely time to exit stage right.
Slipping into a pair of Vans as I retrieve my gift, he grabs my coat, takes my hand in his, and leads me out into the hall, pressing the button for the elevator.
He’s quiet.
I’m quiet.
Does he want me to stay? What did he think of our date? Was it the best one he’s ever been on like it was for me?
“Hold on a second,” he says, my hand waving by my side as he drops it and turns back for his place.
He’s back almost as quickly as he left, and my eyes narrow suspiciously on the black and gray fabric draped over his shoulder.
“What did you just do?” I ask warily.
“Well.” He switches the material from his shoulder to mine. “Can’t have you supporting the enemy now that you’re my girl. And besides, we aren’t playing Boston tomorrow.”
Ba-bum. Ba-bum.
“Who said I’m your girl?” I challenge. Pushing his buttons is my new hobby.
“Oh, baby.” He shakes his head as if to say the subject is not up for debate, but I hold his stare.
Ping!
The elevator arrives, neither one of us moving for the doors, still locked in our standoff.
I should make things easier on us and just give in. Hell, we all know I’m going to. Showing up tonight was just the first step.
With a roll of my eyes, I turn on my heel, pushing the button to recall the elevator that closed as we lingered, and step inside when it opens right away, having not left the floor.
“You don’t give up, do you?” I look at him through the open doors.
“Not when it comes to something I want.”
There’s zero doubt to what that something is—me.
“Guess I have a lot to think about,” I toss out with a smirk as the doors start to slide closed.
“Fuck it.” I hear him say before an arm is thrown out, catching the doors before they can shut all the way.
My eyes are locked on the opening as he stalks—not walks, not strolls, stalks like I’m his prey—into the car, not stopping until my back hits the wall behind me and he pins me to it.
Hands tunnel their way into my hair, fingers tangling through the waves falling around my shoulders. The back of my head is cupped and he crashes into me, every smartass remark I was about to utter gone at the feel of Jase’s lips on mine.
I knew we had chemistry; it boiled between us all night.
But this…this isn’t a kiss. It’s ruination.
There’s no coming back from this.
His lips are soft pillows against mine, and I part them to allow our tongues to tangle, the metal of his piercing whirling inside my mouth, giving a whole new meaning to the term tonsil hockey.
My scalp burns where my hair is pulled, and I’m dragged closer to his hard body before he steps forward again, pinning me fully to wall of the elevator, the cold metal on my back a direct contrast to the inferno in front of me.
I was born to be on stage; no way am I going to be a member of the audience now. My coat and the jersey fall to the floor, followed by the gift box as I push up on my toes, my own hands grasping the short strands of his hair as I circle my arms around his thick neck.
We squeeze, tug, and pull as if we can’t get close enough.
The bottoming out of my stomach has nothing to do with the speed of the elevator’s descent and everything to do with Jase. Talk about defying gravity, Elphaba.
He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth, and as if that weren’t enough, he drags the cool metal of his tongue ring against it to soothe away the sting. How it manages to stay cold inside a mouth hot enough to set me on fire I’ll never know, but fucking hell it’s erotic.
Holy Tracy Turnblad, I can hear the bells.
“You do realize you live in the building and don’t have to maul the poor girl in the elevator, right, Donnelly?” A laughing male voice breaks in.
Spell broken, I finally notice the elevator has stopped moving.
Jase’s eyes, now a deep forest green, never leave mine as he speaks to whoever has interrupted us. “Fuck you, Cali.”
Great, busted by one of his teammates. I don’t know if I should send him a thank you card for stopping us before things took a turn for the naked, or if I should offer him a cigarette—it doesn’t matter that I don’t smoke—to recover from the contact orgasm he might have if he steps inside the car with us.
“Sorry, man. You may look like a Hemsworth, but you’re not my type.”
“You’re a dick.” Jase’s laugh tells me he’s not angry.
Horny, maybe, at least if the pressure on my stomach is any indication, but no, not mad.
“And yet I’m still one of your closest friends. What does that say about you?” Callahan asks the rhetorical question, his gaze moving from his teammate to me. “I take it the date went well based on the PornHub-worthy kiss you guys had going on?”
My cheeks heat and I once again bury my face in Jase’s armpit. I need to remember to tell him how much I like his deodorant.
“Cali,” Jase warns, his arms tightening around me.
“What? I meant it as a good thing. This keeps me from having to listen to you bitch about how Melody keeps turning you down. Glad to see you managed to nut up and do something about this.”
“Cali.” Jase’s voice turns scary, taking on a dark quality I’ve never heard before.
“Relax. Don’t go all big bad enforcer on me, and also get out of the elevator so I can go home. We have an early skate in the morning and I need my beauty sleep.”
“Asshole,” Jase mutters, threading our fingers together and retrieving my dropped belongings. “I swear he’s just as bad as my family.” His complaint loses its edge to the grin curving his lips.
I focus on how I want those lips back on mine and not the surge of jealousy I feel at what an amazing family he has—both blood and extended. My parents can’t even be bothered to take three hours out of their year to see me in a show, yet his spend hundreds making sure not to miss a shift he plays on the ice.
At the glass doors of the building, I’m pulled to a stop. My hat is pulled onto my head and over my ears with a flick of the pom-pom on top and a kiss on the tip of my nose.
Ba-bum. Ba-bum.
Next, I’m helped into my coat, both his hands grasping the lapels and pulling me to him again. I brace myself with my hands on his chest, the muscles of his pecs flexing under my fingertips.