Chapter 17 ~ Second Chance
“How the hell did you get in here?”
“Who the fuck is he?”
We both yell at the same time and yet hear each other perfectly. I decide to ignore her question, for now, deciding that the fact that she has some spider monkey’s dick in her should be my first priority.
“Rook, do me a favor and get your dick out of my girlfriend,” I sigh, giving him my elder brother Eric’s look of pure disdain. The one that he always gives the rookies, just so they know who’s boss. The one he used to give me and my brothers when he didn’t want us to question his grand plans, the ones that usually ended up with me and Jared catching shit for something. It always worked though, and it seems to work now as the tall skinny rookie, all arms and legs and neck, scrambles out of the tub, grabbing a towel off of the rack, which I rip out of his hands and offer to Tippie instead. His nudity I don’t really notice. I’m used to being around naked guys. Hers I enjoy, but not right now. Not in front of him.
“Pardon?” Tippie almost chokes as her eyes get even wider as I hand her the towel. “Girlfriend? What the fuck do you mean girlfriend?”
“How about we save the adult talk until your little friend here has found his pants and crawled back into whatever kindergarten class you pulled him out of,” I snarl, staring the tall geeky down as he scrambles to gather all of his clothes, forcing myself not to smile triumphantly as he shoots me an apologetic glance or two.
“He doesn’t have to go anywhere. You…you can stay. Jordan you leave,” Tippie snaps, wrapping the towel around herself and hugging it close around her body, her actions belying her words.
“He’s not an idiot, are you Myers? There’s three of us in the league, well maybe four if Jared gets his thumb out, and you may be tall but you aren’t too big to knock over are you Myers and you know what they say about guys as tall as you? They taller they are the harder they fall,” I add with a menacing glare. The one I use on opposition players across the face-off circle. The one Eric learned to fear during the series last season.
“You know my name?” the kid asks, his eyes round, a little smile tugging at the corners of his too pink lips. I have to laugh. Suddenly the fact that I know who he is seems more important than the fact that I should be kicking his ass right now.
“Yeah I do. I make it my business to know whose ass I’m going to be kicking next game and believe me, I’m going to kick yours all around the rink. But I’ll start kicking it right now if you don’t get the fuck out of here,” I growl, taking a step towards him that sends him hopping down the hall, one long leg into his jeans, the other still half into his boxers. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so damn pissed off right now. “You should learn to lock the door behind you,” I sigh, turning back to look at Tippie, her long ebony hair dripping down over her shoulders, a pool of water forming at her feet. “No matter how eager you are to get into some kid’s pants. It’s not safe. You are in New York, remember,” I add, reaching to pull another towel off of the rack and using it to rub her hair dry.
Astonishingly she stays still while I do it. Still and silent even though I can feel the tension vibrating off of her in waves. I can understand the feeling. What I want to do is scream at her, shake her, admonish her, but I don’t.
For one thing, I’m fairly sure it wouldn’t do me any good. The stubborn and angry expression on her pretty face makes that fairly clear. Secondly, she’s right. We haven’t exactly made the parameters of our relationship clear. Or at least I haven’t laid out my boundaries, yet. But I’m about to.
“I thought you didn’t just do random one night stands. I thought you said that I was your only one,” I begin, once I’m sure that everything she’s going to let me reach, for now, is dry. Folding the towel back up, I drape it over the rack and then turn back to see her dark eyes watching me, warily. “So what was Stretch supposed to do here? Make me jealous? Because if that was your plan then I have to tell you that it didn’t really work out that well. I mean, he’s just a kid. He might be a couple inches taller than me but he’d blow over in a spring breeze.”
“Fuck you, you don’t own me,” she snarls, but something in her face tells me that she’s not that upset with my finding her ‘in flagrante delicto’. There’s a fire in her eyes that I recognize and my body is already reacting to the challenge I see in the way she holds her chin high and her lips pursed.
“Is that what you want?” I whisper, taking the single step required to invade her personal space and grabbing hold of her shoulders, digging my fingers into her cool, pale flesh until she lets out a long low hiss and I feel a sort of shiver run along her skin and I know it isn’t just the water cooling on her skin that’s causing it. “Do you want me to mark you again? Own you again? Is that what you want?”
“Fuck you Jordan,” she hisses, but doesn’t try to get away, doesn’t even so much as twitch a single muscle.
“I plan for you to,” I reply with a grin, capturing her mouth with mine and kissing her, hard.
I’d had second thoughts the moment the kid started kissing me in the taxi. It was all sloppy and wet and the kid had absolutely no technique at all.
Sure, his hands seemed to know what to do and by the time we’d made it back to my apartment I was willing to admit that I wanted him to fuck me, but I also knew that either I was never going to want to see him again or he was going to need some serious training. Sure, there’s a certain amount of je ne sais quoi to the whole fumbling teenage heat thing, but it wasn’t what I wanted, not what I needed.
So I had to admit that I wasn’t that upset to see Jordan. Sure I was embarrassed, even humiliated, for a moment or two. Only until I could see that, despite how cool he was trying to play it, that it really bothered him to see the tall gangly youth in the place he obviously that as his rightful position.
My mouth even went dry as he ordered the rookie out. Just the way he did it, the self assured tone that was in direct contradiction to the way his hands shook as he ran the towel over my hair and shoulders. I even allowed myself a little grin as he knelt to dry my legs but bit back a sigh as the towel went up to my thighs.
By the time he puts the towel back on the rack and turns back to me, I’m nearly quivering with anticipation. God I’m such a whore.
“So what was Stretch supposed to do here? Make me jealous? Because if that was your plan then I have to tell you that it didn’t really work out that well for you. I mean, he’s just a kid. He might be a couple inches taller than me but he’d blow over in a spring breeze.” He sounds tough, and I have no doubt in my mind that he means it. The kid will definitely suffer an ass whooping for his troubles, but I’ve almost forgotten him already as I look up into Jordan’s blue eyes to see how hard he’s fighting to control the anger and the desire, to not let one win out over the other and I find that I don’t even care which emotion wins out, as long as he takes them out on me.
“Fuck you, you don’t own me,” I snarl, holding my head high, daring him to contradict me, and at the same time, to prove that he does. God help me but I want him to prove that he does. It’s all I can do to stand there and say nothing else, to not drop the towel and beg him to ravage me as his ice sky blue gaze roams over me, slowly, appraisingly, like he’s trying to decide where to start. His gaze is like a touch and it makes me want to squirm.
“Is that what you want?” His voice is husky and barely above a whisper as he takes a step towards me, a step that brings his chest into contact with mine and his long, thick fingers dig into my shoulders, almost painfully. But it’s a sweet pain. A pain that makes me shudder, almost makes me moan out loud and it’s all I can do to only take a long shuddering breath instead of begging him to do whatever he wants. “Do you want me to mark you again? Own you again? Is that what you want?”
I want to nod like a bobble head. I want to jump up and down and clap and say yes over and over again like an eager little kid. I want to moan and beg him to fuck me. Instead I steel myself and stare him down, leveling my gaze at him and biting back everything else.
“Fuck you Jordan,” I hiss back at him, hoping that my eagerness doesn’t quite show through and god help me, I love the spark of rage that lights in his blue eyes.
“I plan for you to.” He grins menacingly, but with a promise in his eyes that makes my knees go weak and if it wasn’t for his firm, nearly painful grip on my shoulders, I think they may have actually given out on me. Then he kisses me, pressing his lips down over mine hard enough to bruise but I don’t fight him then. I let him in, opening my lips and reaching for his tongue with mine. He moans into my mouth, like he’s grateful, just like a dying man would if offered water, and then he sweeps me off of my feet and carries me into the hallway. “Which one?” he asks, like he can’t make a whole sentence, and I know the feeling, I can only point. I don’t trust my lips to form anything that doesn’t resemble ‘fuck me’.
He backs into my room and lowers me onto the bed, kneeling over me as I let the towel fall open. He licks his lips, as if he’s getting ready to taste a feast, and then he falls on me like a rabid dog, biting and growling and I hear my own voice letting loose similar sounds of need as I rip and tear at his clothes, just as eager to get at him as he is at me.
He barely manages to kick his suit pants down to his knees before he pulls my hips towards him, impaling my body on his, and both of us let out a groan of relief and just lay there for a long moment, his forehead pressed to mine.
“No one ever gets to do this but me,” he whispers at last, his lips pressing to my temple, my eyelids, my cheek and at last my mouth. “No one, ever, promise me,” he whispers against my lips as we begin to move in unison. “Promise me Tippi,” he insists, his blue gaze searching mine earnestly as he holds his lips just over mine. At first I can’t say anything. The fear gripping my heart makes it impossible to breathe let alone speak. Then, as his body stills, waiting for my response, I feel the tears begin to spill as I nod.
“I love you,” I sniff, turning my face away so he can’t see how vulnerable I am when I say it but his big hand cups my cheek and turns my gaze back to meet his.
“And I love you. Only you, so much,” he breathes, kissing away my tears.
“I’ll figure something out,” I promise her as we stand in her doorway, my hand cupping her cheek, her eyes closes, a quirky little smile on her pretty face.
“You will? I’m the one with the job and the great apartment. How about you ask for a trade, straight up for Marc?” she suggests as her smile grows and her eyes opens to look up at me.
“I don’t want to play for the Rangers, are you kidding me?” I laugh, leaning down to press my lips to hers’ again, feeling my pulse double as her lips open and her tongue reaches for mine. Groaning, I push her back, knowing if I give into her that I’ll end up missing the train and end up in a world of trouble, probably even facing a suspension. Part of me thinks it would be worth it, but most of me knows that I can’t do it.
“So we’ll just see how it goes, for a while?” she asks, looking disappointed as I hold her at arms’ length.
“Kind of like I thought we’d agreed before?” I tease, raising my eyebrow only to have her roll her dark eyes at me.
“We talked about it, I don’t think we actually agreed on anything,” she replies stubbornly, meeting my gaze with one that I’m guessing she thinks looks defiant but I can see the playfulness leaking into her gaze and the slight upturn of her full, pink lips.
“Well I hope we have this time,” I reply seriously, raising my eyebrow again as I wait for her to answer me which she does, eventually by shrugging her shoulders and giving me that Mona Lisa smile that doesn’t really give too much away except that I’ve seen it too many times so I know that it only hides a bigger smile, a happy smile. “At least promise me I won’t come back from Buffalo to find you with some other rookie in my place.”
“Well I guess that depends,” she says, and I can see that she’s fighting not to let her grin grow any wider.
“On?” I ask, letting my fingers trail down her neck to her collarbone, watching the goose-bumps rise on her skin and her eyes flutter shut.
“If you really love me,” she says quietly and for the very first time I see insecurity flash through her dark eyes and it makes me wrap her up in my arms.
Kissing the top of her head I squeeze her tight.
“Crazy woman, I don’t think I could love you more,” I whisper, still amazed that the words are coming out of my mouth. I had no intention of settling down when came here tonight, but I suddenly feel like I don’t want to let go of her, don’t want to leave her and the way her arms are holding me tight, I’m hoping she feels the same way. “So no more rookies, promise me,” I add, tilting her gaze up to meet mine. She smiles, despite the tears shimmering in her dark eyes.
“I promise,” she says quietly, offering her sweet, soft lips up to mine.