On the other hand I haven’t shown her to the public. I haven’t made it exclusive so in her eyes it means I’m ashamed or some shit.
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. She catches my hesitation, rolling her eyes, and turning on her heel to walk away. My last name is printed in bold red letters on the back of her hoodie and even though we are arguing, I smirk. My girl is wearing my name. Always my girl.
Her frame slips through the doors toward the office section of the building. It’s where we have team meetings, Coach’s office, board meetings, all of the shit I hated dealing with as a hockey player. Valor knows this place better than anyone I’ve ever met. She probably parked near the west exit for less traffic. She used to play hide and seek in this building. I’m sure she’s been her curious self and found herself eavesdropping on conversations.
I catch the door, following after her. The place is quiet during the evening, maybe a few people still making their way to their cars to head home. Valor still handled her emotions like she did as a kid. She ran. It didn’t matter if she was angry, sad, or in this case jealous, she ran from her emotions.
She always talks about how I hide myself from her, how I hid my past. Well, I’m not the only one hiding. There are pieces of her that she keeps from me. She shies away from conversations about how she feels, what she’s thinking. She’d never admit that sometimes she doesn’t feel like she’s enough.
I fucking hated myself for being the reason she questioned herself. Why couldn’t I just fucking get the fuck over this irrational fear of loving someone? The overwhelming need to be anything other than my father?
I was pissed the fuck off at myself, at her, at everyone. I didn’t want her looking in the mirror asking herself if there was something wrong with her like the night she came home from that sleepover or the day that waitress made her feel worthless.
Valor wasn’t just a girl, she was mine, and it was about damn time we both accepted that.
I grip her arm, turning her to face me. “Nice hoodie, wonder where you got it?” I smirk, trying to keep my temper in check. It was mine. I’d given it to her this morning.
“Yeah, a fucking coward gave it to me,” she snaps the words like venom. Fury flares in her eyes, and it’s burning just for me. I run a hand down my face, letting out a sarcastic chuckle.
My tongue rolls inside my cheek, as I reach forward, pushing her into the nearest door. Her back makes solid contact with wood, and I press my entire body into her. My fingers trail up her arms, skimming over her breast, and laying gently on her throat.
“What do you want from me, Valor Lila? You want me to fuck you in front of the media? Bend you over, make you come on my cock for the headline of the Chicago Press? Is that what you want? You want me to treat you like a fucking puck slut?” My words come out way harsher than I intended them to, but the point is getting across.
“No, B─”
“Well guess what, I can’t fucking do that. I can’t just fuck you like I would those other women. It’s different when I’m with you, and I know you feel it. I can’t just fuck you. You’re the only female to ever step foot into my apartment, to share my bed, to stay the night. It’s just fucking you.” I pause pressing my forehead into hers, my teeth bite her bottom lip, pulling it out slightly. “And now I’m going to prove it,” I whisper.
Confusion knots her brow. I lift her body to mine allowing her legs to wrap around my waist. I open the door, hoping there is a flat surface I can lay her on. I spot a large round table and decide that will do. I sit her ass on it, reaching my hand to the base of her neck, gripping her hair, and jerking roughly so that she is forced to look up at me.
“Strip.”
It’s not a request, it’s a demand. I want her naked. There are too many articles of clothing covering her. She nibbles on the inside of her cheek, nervous. The lights are on in this room, so I can see every inch of her body. The fact she still feels insecure in her skin is a punch to the gut.
“I’m not going to ask again, strip, Valor.” I pull away from her taking a step back, crossing my arms, and waiting for her to start.
She releases a shaky breath, standing up but still leaning on the table for support. Her pale fingers reach for the hem of her hoodie, gripping it tightly before pulling it up her body and over her head. A baby blue lace bra covers her breasts, but I can still see the perky, rose-colored nipples beneath the material. My eyes don’t know where to look. The exposed flesh, the blush tinting her cheeks, or my Catholic pendant dancing on her chest. She never takes it off.
“This what you want, Bishop?” The confidence in her voice doesn’t match her body. I don’t want Valor to fake confidence when it comes to how she looks anymore. I want her to know just how fucking breathtaking she is. She kicks her shoes and socks off with an attitude that has me fighting a smile. My cock is straining in my jeans, hard as fucking rock, and she’s just in a bra and jeans.
I nod my head curtly, flicking two fingers at her so she will continue. She sighs, sucking on her bottom lip. Her fingers undo the button of her jeans before she starts to shimmy out of them. Once she adds them to the growing pile, I move to her.
My pointer finger starts a trail from her arm, up to her collarbone, down the valley of her breasts, and to her back. I rub my fingers up and down her spine, hearing her fight a moan.
“What don’t you like about yourself, Vallie? When you look in the mirror, tell me what you see.”
She tries to shrug the question off, scoffing and rolling her eyes. I grit my teeth, my jaw clenching. I unsnap the back of her bra, letting it slip off her shoulders. I lay a soft kiss on her collarbone before my rough hand grips her jaw.
“Tell me, I’m tired of fucking asking twice.”
Her false confidence starts to falter, softness gathers in her eyes. I can see the water building in her green eyes, and if they fall I have every intention of kissing them away. That is exactly what I do when the tears slowly fall. I catch each one with my lips.
“I see someone who is too long and not enough curves.” She pauses trying to pull away from me, but I refuse to let her. “Small breasts. A girl whose hair is too messy to be found attractive. A broken smile. Too many freckles but not enough makeup experience to cover them. I’m too intimidating, too masculine.”
Her tears taste like sadness, and I want nothing more than to fucking destroy society’s ability to make women feel this way about themselves. Especially Valor.
I clear my throat, making sure she can hear my words. “Let me tell you what I see.”
My fingers move down her body, massaging her nipples slowly. Just enough to see her nipples harden under my touch. They slide down her stomach, hooking the material of her panties and pushing them down so they pool at her feet.
“I see a woman who’s so fucking beautiful,” I whisper, lifting her back onto the table. Her naked thighs spread for me. I avoid the area between them, focusing on her face.
I rake my fingers through her hair, caressing her cheek, “A body that is strong, but so fucking sexy when it’s laid out before me. I see softness when you laugh, when you sigh, when you moan.” I tug on a curl of her hair. “Uniqueness in your hair.”
A smile starts to appear on her lips, the tears starting to slow. I run my thumb across her bottom lip. “I see a woman whose femininity isn’t defined by society's standards. Just because you are tall and athletic doesn’t make you any less beautiful, Valor Sullivan. You’re magic, remember?”