“But,” I whisper the word against her lips, “I get to take care of you first.”
The way her pink, kiss-swollen lips turn up into a smile has my cock twitching.
It’s such a simple gesture. One I’m sure she does a hundred times a day when we aren’t playing, but not at the arena. Not with the team. Greer is all business there. She doesn’t let her hard exterior crack around the guys.
It’s a self-preservation technique, one that has probably been necessary her entire life. That’s both sad and infuriating. I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of being a feminist, probably about as far from it as is humanly possible, but Greer shouldn’t have to hide her joy or amusement just to appease some guys who think their balls are bigger than her résumé.
“You should do that more often, Coach.”
Her brow furrows. “Do what?”
“Smile.” And if I have any say in it, I’m going to ensure there’s one plastered to her face as long as I have access to her stunning body. “Now, let’s get you naked and into that tub.”
I have plans…
Chapter Fifteen
GREER
“Where are you taking me?”
Bash flashes a grin from the driver seat and then returns his focus to the road in front of us. The road that isn’t going toward the Prestige.
I twist in my seat to watch him and try to get a read on what he’s doing. A playful smirk curls his lips, and I heave out a sigh. “This is definitely not the way to your hotel.”
And I don’t have the energy to go anywhere else.
The game tonight was particularly brutal, as the final games of the season always are—a full sixty minutes of a drag-down, knockout fight, and then we still ended up in overtime and a shootout.
We got the win—one we badly needed to maintain our position in third in the conference going into our final game two days from now—but the guys are beat up, and we’re all utterly exhausted. The last two weeks since Bash got off his suspension have been nothing short of all-out war in the Pacific Division.
When Bash suggested relaxing tonight, I thought we’d be going back to his hotel, but this is the opposite direction, and the playful look he has means he’s up to something.
One thing I’ve learned very quickly about Bash since we started our—what? affair? relationship? fling?—whatever, is that he loves to play—literally and figuratively. Whether it be on the ice, in the bedroom, or in life, he’s always making moves.
“Trust me, Coach. We’re going somewhere you’ll be able to unwind and have a good time.”
“Bash, I’m not up for anything you consider ‘a good time.’” I use air quotes for emphasis.
A good time with him, more often than not, leaves me more exhausted than I was before it.
He barks out a laugh and reaches over to squeeze my thigh. “Coach, you canceled practice for tomorrow. That means tonight is a rare night I can take you somewhere without us worrying about getting up at the ass crack of dawn. So, just trust me.”
Trust Bash Fury?
Strangely, I’m beginning to. The more time alone I spend with him, the more I come to realize that he isn’t just the persona he puts out in the media and on the ice. There are layers to Bash—ones I’m just beginning to unravel. Ones I’m not so sure anyone else has ever seen—save for maybe his closest friends and family.
Bash does his best to never show any cracks in his façade, but when we’re alone, when we’re together, that entire mask crumbles. He’s still cocky and arrogant and infuriating but in the best way possible. The way that leaves me panting and utterly spent almost every night.
I sigh and rest my head back on the seat as I watch the Strip disappear behind us. “And you’re not going to tell me where we’re going?”
He stops at a red light and winks at me. “That would ruin the surprise, Coach.”
“I don’t know that I’m up for any surprises.”
But the little gifts Bash has been leaving for me are very sweet…and totally unexpected.
First, it was the cupcake with the Scorpions logo in icing—adorable, thoughtful, and delicious—along with the note that read:
Not as sweet as you. - S
Then came the gold puck-shaped keychain with the word “COACH” engraved on it and a card that said:
You are this team. – S
But the one that really got to me, the one that had me wondering if Bash could actually be the exact opposite of everything everyone believes, was the flower. A single red rose. No note. One wasn’t needed. Given what happened the night before, it was clear what it meant.
It had been magical—unlike anything I’ve experienced with anyone else in my entire life. We made love. Slowly. Passionately. It was a connection—two bodies becoming one. No words were said because none were necessary. And the rose was the perfect acknowledgment of that.
So, maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt that where he’s taking me tonight will be exactly what I need.
“I’m trusting you, Bash, but I’m telling you right now, I don’t want to be out late tonight. The entire point of canceling practice tomorrow was for everyone to relax and recover from the game.”
“I promise you’ll enjoy this, Coach, and it will be incredibly relaxing.”
Somehow, I doubt that.
Although, the long, hot bath and shoulder massage Bash gave me last week when he surprised me at the hotel in LA was relaxing. At least until he put his quick, talented hands to work on something other than my tense shoulders.
He so much of everything that it’s hard to keep a clear mind when he’s in the vicinity.
He’s just so…Bash.
We turn onto Highland Drive, and my unease grows. I stare out the window at the industrial buildings and dirty clubs lining the street. This area is part of the seedy underbelly of Vegas. There isn’t any good reason to come down here, at least not for me.
He pulls us into a parking lot, and I glance up at the neon sign on the building.
I look over at him. “You have to be kidding me.”
He pulls up to the valet, throws it into park, and grins at me.
I scowl at him. “Bash, I am not going into a strip club with you.”
He barks out a laugh and shakes his head before he leans over and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “Spearmint Rhino is a fantastic place, Coach. Give it a chance.”
Hell no.
I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head. “No, Bash. What the hell are you thinking? We can’t be seen together, especially in a place like this.”
He brushes his lips against my ear. “Already thought of that, Coach, and called ahead. We’re going in the private VIP entrance and will have our own room.”
Our own room? What the hell does that mean?
It makes it sound even seedier.
There’s a reason I’ve always avoided places like this—definitely not my scene—but I shouldn’t be surprised it’s where Bash would bring me. This place is very…Bash.
He grabs my hand and squeezes as a valet comes to my door. “Half an hour. If you’re not having fun, we’ll go. I promise.”