Secret Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)
Secret Obsession: Chapter 22

Something wakes me in the middle of the night. One minute, I’m sleeping. And the next, my heart is racing and my eyes are open.

The scent wrapped around me is familiar and distant all at once. Sandalwood, maybe, or cedar. Like Knox… but not.

For a second, my brain tricks me into thinking I’m back in Knox’s bed. That I’ll roll over and find his side of the bed cold and empty, and I’ll have to grapple with the feeling of not being good enough. Of not keeping his attention in my sleep.

I roll, but my shoulder bumps a chest. I tense up all over, and then I’m aware of the other sensation. Between my legs.

Not Knox.

Miles.

And while his breathing is even and deep, and a glance up at his face tells me he’s most definitely asleep, the way he’s fucking me is most definitely not in my dreams. His hips jack against mine so slowly, driving his cock in and out of me with an excruciatingly slow pace. For a moment, I’m just dumbfounded.

But then his hand moves lower, across my stomach, and presses against my clit.

I gasp.

The sound is out before I can stop it, and Miles’ eyes flutter open.

He seems to take a second to focus on me, and then a smile curls his lips.

A smile.

His hips pull back, drawing more of his cock out of me. Those piercings hit my G-spot with his new thrust, and I almost groan. I bite my tongue to keep it in check, and the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth.

Better that, than give him an ounce of satisfaction.

His fingers drag against my clit harder, rubbing little circles until my mouth opens again. My breathing is ragged and loud in my ears. More like panting. And he keeps fucking me. Playing me like an instrument made just for him.

Speaking would ruin it.

It would remind me that I don’t want him—that I can’t have him. That my heart is this fragile little thing, and if I trust him with it, he could destroy me for good.

But sex?

It seems inevitable.

Worse, still, are the memories of lingering looks that come floating back to me. Those near-miss moments with Miles that I’d do anything to banish. I don’t want to remember how he and I almost… almost what? Existed together? Kissed? Fell in love?

That’s not happening.

I’m not falling in love ever again.

Pain spikes through my chest. It’s usually a dull ache, but right now it sears like a stab. A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes burn. A tear slips free, running out of the corner of my eye and into my hair.

But that’s not what I should’ve been paying attention to.

Miles takes my hand with his free one and drags it down between my legs. My fingers tangle with his as he leads me right to where his cock is thrusting into me.

I groan. Or sigh.

Or some mix of the two.

“Mine,” Miles growls in my ear.

His lips are right there, his huge body curving around me. He’s everywhere. His breath in my hair, the slight stubble on his chin raking across my jaw. His arms wrapped around me, his hand on my wrist and the other cupping my breast. His dick inside me—not just in me but slamming home with more fervor than before.

I’ve never felt less alone.

My skin tingles with some unknown force.

Like anxiety, but worse. Like fear, but more intoxicating.

“You’re mine, wild girl. And I will tame you as I set you free.”

He stills, filling me up, and the pulse between my legs only seems to worsen. He jerks again and comes hard, his teeth scraping my earlobe. I shudder with him and try to retract. To move. But his grip only tightens. On my breast, on my wrist. He keeps me exactly where I am.

Until the foreign pulse between my legs fades and his cock slips out. He immediately pushes his fingers inside me, trapping my hand against my core. Every shift of his hand moves mine.

My clit is on fire.

“Feel my cum inside you?” He pulls his hand out and lifts it in front of us.

I smell the sex on us, and in the low light, barely see the glisten on his fingers. Doesn’t matter—he smears it across my lips anyway. And my nose. His fingers make a wet path down my jaw, to my throat. Where he captures my pulse, and then he just… stops.

“Go back to sleep,” he says gruffly.

I don’t want to sleep.

“If I leave you, you can punch me in the nose as hard as you can,” he says in my ear.

Oh.

It’s a strange sensation, wanting to hate him and hug him at the same time. Maybe that’s why I roll over to face him and bury my face against his chest.

I belatedly realize that he’s not wearing a shirt. My cheek presses to his hot skin.

His hand slides down my side, over the curve of my hip and down my thigh. He grips just below my knee and hitches my leg up over his. And then his arms wrap around me again, and he sighs.

I close my eyes and ignore the dampness on my inner thighs. His cum and my arousal. He didn’t get me off—I can’t help but acknowledge that. But in our position, he’d know… And then, of course, there’s the lingering thought of cleaning up. Of protecting myself against infections. I should pee.

But instead, I fall asleep, just as he ordered.

Morning is just as weird. Miles is right there when I wake up, in the same exact position. He tips my head back and meets my eyes, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me.

He doesn’t, though. He just rises more, giving me a full look at his naked body.

His naked, stunning, gorgeous body.

Holy fuck.

I thought Knox was hot?

He has nothing on his younger brother.

His abs stand out in sweet relief against the rest of his torso. He’s got no tattoos, no scars. He does, however, have two black eyes. He doesn’t seem to notice or even mind. There’s a little swelling around the socket, but it’s mostly localized to the inner corners of his eyes. The bruises were there yesterday, but now it’s worse.

It makes his irises even bluer, if that’s possible.

My gaze drops lower, to the V that points to, well… his cock is at attention and pointing at me. The two piercings draw my eye, and his length twitches under my attention. There’s one that goes through the tip of his dick, and then another horizontal bar that sits just below the head, on the underside.

“Why…?”

He shakes his head. “You’re going to be late for class.”

I sit up suddenly. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty.”

My first class is at eight.

Fuck.

I throw back the covers and practically dive out of bed. I go for my bag, then belatedly remember that he unpacked everything in one of the drawers.

“Leave it,” he barks. “Go shower.”

I jump again, then glance over my shoulder. My fingers are on my clothes. It would be easy enough to disregard him and pick my own things.

But… I’m curious.

And desperate to wash off.

So I retract my hand and hurry down the hall to the bathroom, which is blessedly empty. The other bedroom doors are all closed up tight, giving me no indication of whether their occupants are home.

At least I don’t have to worry about Knox barging in. He has his own bathroom to use. In the shower, there’s the good kind of shampoo and conditioner, left over from Aspen staying here with Steele. I say a quick mental thank you to her for leaving them here, and I wash in record time.

Wrapped in a towel, I step back into Miles’ room. He’s laid out clothes on the now-made bed, and he’s nowhere to be found.

Huh.

He picked a band t-shirt and light-wash jeans. There’s no bra… and no underwear either.

I frown. My gaze bounces from the clothes to the closed drawer.

Is it a test?

Well, if it is, it’s a stupid one.

I march over and open the drawer, only to stop dead at the sight of the closet. It’s full of shirts and stuff that I bought, sure, but… my underwear is gone. I open the top drawer and note his neatly folded briefs and the paired socks on the other side of it. I go through the rest of the dresser, then finally stop.

The clock is ticking, my time to get to class dwindling fast.

Too much happened yesterday. I’m having trouble getting my mind around it.

“Morning,” a voice chimes.

I whirl around.

Knox leans on the doorframe, his one arm braced above his head. My gaze rakes over him. The stylish way he always dressed no longer holds the same appeal. In fact, it makes me question how I fell for him so thoroughly.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

Did I? I slept, which is more than I thought was going to happen. He seems to do his own sweep over my body, hidden only by a towel. He’s seen it before—it isn’t anything new. My grip on the corners of my towel tightens.

I swallow thickly. “Um…”

He chuckles. “I’m sure you did. See you around, Willow.”

He shoves off and leaves me gaping at the open door. I hurry to it and slam it closed, then go back to the dresser. I snatch out a rolled pair of briefs and drop my towel. I tug them up my legs. They’re not a super-snug fit—but at least it’s better than nothing between my pussy and jeans. That solved, I dress quickly and put a new bandage on my foot, followed by socks and shoes. I snatch my jacket and shrug it on.

Downstairs, Miles waits for me by the door. His hungry gaze drinks me in, so much so that I stop dead.

“What?” I question.

He shakes his head, his focus snapping. “Your hair is wet.”

I run my fingers through the strands. “Drying it was going to make me late.”

“You might be late, yet,” he murmurs.

I frown. “We don’t have time.”

“Thus the definition of late.”

Ugh. I spot my backpack leaning against the wall next to his, and I go straight for it. I fall to my knees and unzip it, hurrying to pull out the books for my Tuesday/Thursday classes. No use lugging those around, too. All that’s left is my laptop and the books for my three classes today.

Hooking the strap over my shoulder, I rise.

Miles hasn’t moved.

“Do you have class or…?”

He lifts one shoulder. “Not ’til nine-fifteen.”

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“I’ll drive you,” he says suddenly, ripping open the front door.

An icy blast sweeps into the house, ruffling my wet hair. I was going to walk, since I’m pretty sure my car is still at my apartment. I actually should’ve just grabbed it yesterday, but I didn’t think about it. I didn’t think about much of anything except murder and break-ins and the pain in my foot, which suddenly jumps to the forefront of my mind.

He leaves me standing there.

I hurry after him, biting my tongue against snapping at him.

Is it his fault I’m late?

Maybe.

I pat down my pockets, belatedly realizing I don’t even have my phone.

So maybe it is my fault for being late, since I didn’t give a shit about my phone or an alarm or anything like that. I just let Miles do whatever he wanted to me, without any resistance…

Shame hits me square in the gut. It streams through me, but I refuse to linger on it. I slide into the passenger seat and hunch forward. It’s cold. So much more fucking cold than any day so far this winter. It makes me wish I had my hat and gloves, and a scarf, and a hot coffee.

Coffee is only for those who wake up on time, though.

Miles speeds to campus, and I’m out and jogging away before he’s even put it in park.

I make it to the classroom at 7:58. The professor is already at the front of the class, and I stride to my seat quickly. I smile at the professor, who smiles back.

The girl beside me, however, gives me a dirty look.

I sigh as my mood plummets.

Funny how fast that can happen.

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