Chapter 1
HENRIK'S VISITOR
Custom
tailored suit.
Check.
Flawless,
panty dropping five o’clock shadow.
Henrik
ran his thumb down the hard line of his chin and smirked to himself.
Check.
The
ladies in Newark were in for a treat tonight. Usually, he just crashed after
games—part of the constant refueling process required of a professional hockey
player. As the newly appointed captain, it was his job to set a positive
example for the guys now. Every game counted in their eighty-two game season,
and discipline was key.
At least
that's the sermon his coach continued to preach at him.
Responsibility.
Team work. Blah. Blah. Ugh.
However,
tonight was the season opener, and they’d won decisively against their bitter
rivals—the New Jersey Devils. In celebration, because he always looked for a
good excuse to celebrate, he planned to ignore the advice of his coach in order
to get shit faced and make good use of his second greatest talent. He'd get
lectured for it tomorrow, but it wouldn't be the first time he showed up for
practice hung over and satisfied.
He
slipped his wallet into his back pocket and paused at the mirror for final
inspection. Admittedly impressed, he straightened the collar of his navy sports
coat. He’d cropped his signature Swedish blonde locks short enough to tuck
behind his ears. It was his beginning of the season ritual, and it made his
blue eyes pop in contrast. That’s what the caramel haired beauty he'd
entertained during his pregame interview had told him anyway.
After
effectively admiring himself from every angle, he had no choice but to agree with
her. Humility had never been his strong suit. In his opinion, he'd finally
mastered perfection, except when he turned his cheek, his eyes narrowed,
focusing on the tiny, puckering cut at the corner of his lip. His teeth snapped
shut.
Derek
Deroty would pay for his intentional attempt at taking him out of the game
tonight. He might have to wait a couple months until their next scheduled
slaughtering, but the bastard would eventually get what was coming to him.
A high
stick to the nose, or maybe he'd finally just drop gloves with the prick.
For now,
he’d just accept it as a battle wound. The girls would love it.
A light,
but persistent knock broke the silence. He immediately rolled his eyes, turning
away from the mirror. Austin forgot his keycard. Again. He'd forget the days of
the week if Henrik wasn't around to kick his ass in gear every morning.
He
searched the counters, but found nothing as he made his way over to the door.
It was probably in his gym bag. He bent down to laugh at his best friend through
the peephole when—
“Fuck.”
It was a
woman.
His head
fell against the door as he held back the groan that wanted to follow the
mumbling. Why were women so intent on taking all the fun out of the hunt? He at
least wanted to have a few drinks first, swap some stories with his team mates
who would be mingling amongst the crowd, and then, as the night drew to a
close, he’d start his pursuit. Showing up at his door was equivalent to
throwing prepackaged meat to a caged tiger.
He
jerked the door open, prepared to shush away his visitor like a stray pigeon
before making a beeline for the elevator, but then she turned.
“Henrik.”
Vibrant
green eyes shined up at him, a familiarity he hadn’t expected to find.
“Leila?”
He choked out the word, his hand grasping the door handle like a life
preserver. He blinked twice, attempting to convince himself that the disheveled
hot mess in front of him was real.
Leila tugged harshly at a strand of her auburn
waves that sprayed across her bare shoulders and down her back. Her normally
flawless, porcelain skin was flushed and he recognized the volatile glint in
her eyes. She wasn’t just pissed. Leila Blakely was on the fuck off side of
irate.
It was
definitely real.
He
straightened his shoulders, and then tested his voice before he spoke. “What
the hell do you want, Blakely?”
What did
she expect from him? Her scumbag boyfriend had taken a cheap shot at him no
less than two hours ago. He still had a little built up aggression brewing
inside of him, too. She wasn’t there to apologize on Derek’s behalf, he knew
that. Sympathy wasn’t part of the Blakely genetic code. He knew that fact first
hand, because his best friend, who knocks heads together for a living, just
happened to be her older brother.
“Invite
me inside,” she instructed, tucking the strand of hair behind her ear before
running those long, delicate fingers down her throat.
The
gesture almost distracted him, but just the sound of her voice set his nerves
on edge. Only an idiot would be fooled by the glistening threat of tears in her
eyes. He wasn’t about to be lured by the lamb to the wolf’s den. Leila
projected an image of sophistication and innocence, but it was all a show. The
hologram in front of him was a shell hiding the reality he knew all too well.
The real
Leila wore converse and ratty hockey shirts. She cursed like a sailor set on
shore for leave, and she was tougher than half the men he knew. Her façade
melted away as her temper started to hit its peak. So after all these years
Leila finally wanted to talk to him.
Too bad
he didn't give a fuck.
“I’m
actually headed out for the night,” he told her, looking past her toward the
elevator. He wanted a drink and a sexy woman writhing underneath him later. He
deserved it. He’d worked non-stop the past eight weeks, performing two a days
in preparation for the season. All he wanted was one last night out.
No
hockey. No commercials. No interviews.
Just
good ol'fashion dirty fun.
Leila
rolled her eyes at him though, and pushed past him into the room.
“Excuse
you?” He was angered by her bold move, but most of all, annoyed that he
couldn’t stop himself from watching the way the hem of her dress swayed against
her thighs.
How
could it be that short without revealing something?
“I require your assistance,” she said flatly,
her chin set. “Shut the damn door.”
It had
been years since he’d seen this side of her. Well, not since she started dating
that spawn of satan, Derek. She was always so prim and nauseatingly proper when
she was around him. “Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree, cupcake. Why don’t
you go ask your boyfriend for help?”
She bit
the inside of her cheek. It was quick, and someone else may not have noticed
it, but Henrik knew her too well. He'd spent too many hours dissecting the
nuances of her every reaction, searching for the real emotion trapped within
her chilled exterior, not to recognize the fire she desperately tried to
barricade behind that smile. “He’s busy,” she stated, her tone acidic.
Suddenly
intrigued, he flung the door shut.
Surely,
Leila wasn't upset with her perfect, little golden boy.
“Busy
doing what exactly?”
She
shrugged, attempting to appear casual, but her hand clenched into a fist. It
was one of her tells, which meant she wasn't going to hold it together for much
longer. “His other girlfriend,” she said, her exasperation finally consuming
her, “or at least that’s the impression I got from the voicemail the slut left
on his machine.”
Henrik
grinned.
It was a
bullshit move, but he couldn’t help himself. He absolutely hated that asshole.
They’d been rivals since the Junior World Championship almost a decade ago,
their feud running much deeper than just a few on ice antics. He hated Derek on
a much more personal level. He'd finally get what he deserved now. The idiot
should have known better than to screw over the little sister of the league's
most deadly enforcer. There would be hell to pay, and Austin would enjoy
exacting revenge on his little sister’s behalf.
He had
to give it to Leila though, he thought, going back to the situation at hand.
Any other woman who just found out their boyfriend of two years was cheating on
them would probably still be off crying in her Baskin Robins.
Not
Leila Blakely. She was too stubborn for that weak shit.
“If
you’re looking for someone to kick his ass, you should call your brother. I'm
certain he'll be more than happy to oblige you.”
She
hummed for a moment, the thought apparently entertaining. “That isn't why I'm
here.” There was something in her tone that he couldn’t quite identify, but
then she smiled back at him.
Vengeance.
Yes.
This was the Leila he knew.
He crossed his arms over his chest, his
curiosity kindled. “I'm listening.”
“If I
wanted his ass kicked, you’re right, I would have called Austin. If I wanted a
shoulder to cry on—”
“You
would have called my brother,” he
finished for her.
“Exactly.
I’m not in the mood for crying.” She crossed her legs, bringing his attention
back to that damn hemline again. “Now, why do you think I came to you?”
His
throat tightened at the thought. She couldn’t be serious. His exploits weren’t
exactly a secret. He never hid the fact that commitment was on the bottom of
his list of priorities in life, but this was Leila.
The Leila.
They weren’t exactly on a friends with
benefits level. Hell, they weren’t even friends. She was his best friend’s
little sister.
Scratch
that.
She was
his best friend’s stuck-up, pain in the ass, little sister, who voluntarily
dated his arch nemesis.
“You
realize that you hate me, right? The last time we saw each other, you refused
to acknowledge that I was even in the room.”
She
cocked a daring brow at him. “If liking you was a requirement, you’d never get
laid.”
He
pursed his lips. She had a point.
He shook his head, trying to keep even the
thought of what she suggested out of his rallying thoughts. “There is one minor
fact you seem to be forgetting.” He paused, unable to keep his eyes from raking
down her body. He didn’t remember her figure ever being that intoxicating.
Actually that was a lie. He'd always been aware of her. He just knew better
than to let his thoughts linger too long. He felt almost drunk as his eyes
trained to every perfectly proportioned curve. “Guys have rules about sisters.”
She
stepped forward, a slow smile forming on her lips as her fingers played with
one of the pearls on her necklace, that just so happened to be at eye level
with her cleavage. “So, it’s not that you’re not attracted to me?”
Damn.
She was good.
He bit his lip, a sure sign he was nervous,
which was ridiculous, because women didn't make him nervous. “It’s not just
Austin, you know. Drew will kill me. You know he’s in love with you.”
Everyone
and their mother knew his little brother had a thing for her, and she was no
exception. She was off limits any way he looked at it.
She
intentionally licked her glossy pink lips before quirking a smile at him. “You
want me to drive to Manhattan and sleep with your brother?”
He
crossed his arms over his chest in return. “No,” he said flatly, suddenly
feeling a flash of hormones as his breath tightened in his chest. “I was just
making a point.”
“That?”
“You’re
asking a lot,” he half stuttered before clearing his throat.
She
smirked, her voice velvety in a way he never thought possible. “I’m offering
you sex, no strings attached. Heaven forbid I be so cruel.”
“We aren’t
strangers who stumbled upon each other in a bar, Leila.” He wondered if she
could hear the urgency in his voice—the panic that started to set in.
“I know
that. I could go out tonight, take home some random guy, but that isn’t what
I’m after. I came to you, because I’m thinking the exact same thing you are
right now.”
“That
being?”
“Fuck
Derek Deroty,” she grinned, stepping toward him, leaning just close enough to
eye the tiny, pink cut on his lip. “He gave you a cheap shot tonight, did he
not?”
Henrik’s
eye twitched at the thought of it. He hated that she was right. He had been
thinking that exact thought. Oh, he wanted Leila, always had. She was beautiful
enough to make him question his loyalty to his best friend and smart enough to
know he’d never been worth her time. But the thought of having her, compiled
with the fact that she was doing it just to piss Derek off made it that much
better.
She
reached up and touched her fingers to the cut, and he had to make an effort not
to flinch, or worse, release the sigh that threatened to escape. “He smiled
after he hit you,” she whispered, grazing her thumb across the bottom of his
full lip. “The same shit eating grin he smiled at me before he left tonight.”
He
caught her hand as her fingers tugged his lip down, contemplating between what
was right and what he’d inevitably end up doing anyway. She was forbidden
fruit, and he, after all, was just a man destined to drown in his own
temptation.
“Don’t
worry.” He let his breath intentionally brush against the skin of her wrist.
She wasn't the only one with a few tricks up her sleeve. “He’s going to regret
that in more ways than one after tonight.”
It was wrong. There
was so many rules against dating sisters, and no one night stands was on the
top of the list. He'd been warned on multiple occasions. Threatened even. Leila
would never be an option for him.
Except, she was here
and he was touching her. Rules no longer applied. The temptation too much. The
old saying you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink didn’t
apply to him. He’d drink every time.
That’s why she came
there. That’s why she chose him.
He let go of her
wrist and lifted his hand to her temple, hesitating only a moment before
brushing a strand of her scarlet hair away from her eyes that rounded in
anticipation. His fingertips lingered, causing her breath to falter, and it
unwound what little was left of his inhibition.
It was reckless and
irresponsible, but that was his middle name. Besides, he couldn’t comprehend a
thought that didn’t involve making her lose her breath. In an almost
instinctual gesture, he cupped her chin in his hand and tilted it up. Her lips
parted, releasing the most delicate whine he’d ever heard. He planned on
waiting for her to make the first move. This was her rodeo after all. But
again, his own eagerness won out, and he touched his lips to hers without
thinking twice about it.
Soft. Perfect.
Leila.
He lingered just
long enough to ignite a twist of desire for her that he’d spent four years
trying to sedate. Her breath came out ragged against his lips as her eyes
brimmed with disappointment up at him. She was worried he’d changed his mind.
The thought almost made him laugh.
He took a step back,
unbuttoning his jacket before throwing it on the couch behind him. “Don’t
worry,” he easily explained, “I’m just getting started.”
Something akin to
excitement flashed across her face, and he had her on her tiptoes, her hand
latched around his neck before she could even finish her next breath. She
gasped into his mouth as his hands wrapped greedily around her delicate waist.
Logic, rationality,
and common sense crumbled easily under the weight of the attraction that pulled
him toward her. She wasn't just any woman; she was years’ worth of self
deprivation confined into one beguiling bundle of warmth and perfection. Her
fingers brushed against the buttons of his shirt, and he took the opportunity
to entangle his hands in the long sweep of hair dangling down her back.
He'd always wanted
to do that.
As soon as he
deepened the kiss, parting her lips long enough to taste the sweet seduction
he'd desired for too long, he whipped her around and pinned her against the
wall. A new, powerful urge erupted inside him. Four excruciating years he
longed for her.
To know her touch, and feel even a hint of
that unrelenting passion she used to curse his very existence. It caused him to
touch her body rough and demanding one moment and then tenderly the next as he
fought against his own eagerness. Tonight, this one, small flash in time would
be his only opportunity. Tomorrow, she'd be like all the others.
A memory.
He forced himself back long enough to catch
his breath. He caught the look in her eyes, the one she'd never admit even if
it killed her, and he knew her memory would be the one to finally haunt him.
Clouds formed in her
brilliant green eyes, the brown flecks swirling with the craving they both
felt. He hadn’t realized that he moved her, that he picked her up, swerved
around the couch. Her lips ravaged his throat as his shaky hand sought out the
doorknob to the bathroom. He shut and locked the door behind him, sitting her
down on the sink.
She shot him a
crooked smile to ask about the change in scenery. He shrugged. “Just in case
your brother decides to come back early. Austin is my roommate, remember?”
He should have been
alarmed by the complete lack of guilt he felt at the mention of his best
friend. However, in that moment, with Leila’s shiny lips smiling at him for
maybe the first time ever, Austin was just the name of some guy he knew. Her
hands were already busy when his lips found hers again. She yanked desperately
at his shirt, and he discarded it quickly before setting his sights on her
dress. Now that she was here, the countless fantasies he'd harbored finally
coming to fulfillment, he found himself wanting to slow down, to savor every
second.
He maneuvered the
zipper of her dress down as the lavish kisses down his shoulder steadily
slowed. Her fingers traced his shoulder blade. She inspected the sleeve of
tattoos that decorated his entire left arm. “This is new,” she whispered, her
breath rushing across his skin like fire on water.
“How would you know?” he challenged, and the
look they exchanged said what neither of them would.
Hating each other
didn’t mean they hadn’t each been acutely aware of the other for the past four
years.
“They’re hideous,”
she proclaimed.
His smiled widened.
“Uh-huh. That’s why you’re still touching them, right?”
She looked down to
see her fingers absently tracing the outline of the emblem that represented
their college logo. She pulled her fingers back, and he laughed. “I don’t
mind,” he whispered, dropping his forehead down to hers. “I was actually hoping
to get a taste of yours. If I remember correctly—” he pushed her hair over her
shoulder, revealing the tiny string of hearts, descending in size that led from
behind her ear down her neck. “Yep,
there they are.”
He kissed them then,
each of the four pink hearts in turn before dropping down to the nape of her
neck. Leila could pretend to be a prim and proper socialite all she wanted, but
she’d never convince him. She’d always be the girl with hearts, sitting in the
stands wearing that worn out jersey. Her bright, innocent eyes taunting him, a
constant reminder she was everything he wasn’t allowed to desire.
She sighed and his primal instincts threatened
to take hold of him, enhancing his desire to claim this prize that fate had
given him. He grabbed her hips, and pulled her down from the sink as his
fingers traced the inside of her thigh.
He paused, his jaw
going slack with shock as he realized she wasn’t wearing any panties beneath
the dress. She pushed up on her tiptoes to meet his ear, and this time it was
Leila who laughed. “I was prepared to seduce you if necessary.”
Henrik bit the
inside of his jaw, bundling the fabric of her dress between his fingers. “Damn.
I would have really liked to have seen that.”
“That’s what you get
for being easy.”
He growled, though
he had to admit he enjoyed when she provoked him. That had been their thing all
along, the one and only social interaction she allowed to transpire between
them. A battle of wit and ego deciding who could insult or ignore whom the
best. It was time the tables turned. He'd finally prove that she wanted him,
too.
“You’re one to talk,” he smiled back at her.
His hand slid from under her dress.
She watched him,
dazed as he finished with the final inches of zipper on her dress and let it
drop seamlessly to the floor. Her hands trembled along his bare chest, inching
their way down until they lingered along his waistline. He watched her intently
as she tugged at the button and zipper of his pants.
She was exaggerating
her innocence for his benefit. He was sure of it. As the fabric fell away and
her hands found him again, the thought was instantly lost to him.
He pulled her away,
moving them to the wall where he pinned her between his arms. She gasped at the
gentle way he kissed her then, the rough edges suddenly smoothed away. His skin
was hot, burning and bloomed damp when she bit desperately at it. The air was
ripe, thick and tasted of her delicious fruity scent with each gulping breath
he took.
Whatever this woman
did to him, he welcomed. Whatever she demanded of him, he wanted to give. Leila
slipped her bra away, suddenly naked against him. He wrapped his long arm
around her waist and heaved her easily up until her backside pressed against
the wall. He looked at her then, watching her eyes for even a hint of
indecision. He found none.
She yelped
violently, her shrill scream catching in her throat. Her fingers clawed
desperately at his neck. He could see the shock, the pain mixed with pleasure
on her face. His temple fell against hers, until they were eye to eye.
“Leila.” His voice
was suddenly ragged and desperate.
What the hell did he
just do? She wasn't just pretending to be innocent.
“Don’t stop.” Her
breath shook against his neck. Tears. Those were definitely tears on her
lashes.
“But…Leila—”
“No.”
Shit. Austin was
really going to kill him now. For real kill him.
The sudden reality
and depth of his betrayal finally started to sink in. Austin warned him that
Leila was off limits, and now he understood why. He'd make the news for this. Death by big brother. Probably on
national television, too. That was Austin's style. A little public humiliation
with your ass beating.
Leila’s breath hitched against his neck, her
desperate fingers latching tighter around his bare shoulders. Life would never
be the same after this—it couldn't. He broke the man code and he would pay the
price. He should feel shitty, and scared, but he couldn't even bring himself to
care. Not right now. As Leila’s vulnerable whine echoed in his ears, he thought
maybe not ever.
Chapter 2
LEILA'S VENGENCE
Trapped between
crying, cursing herself and ecstasy, Leila sucked in a breath to hold it all
in. Her lips stilled against his neck, her hands clasped around Henrik's
shoulders for dear life.
Henrik.
Shit. It actually
happened, and it happened with Henrik.
She'd lost her mind
this time. That satonic answering machine with its chippy, nasal voice. Not a
single ounce of sadness entered her body upon the realization that her
so-called boyfriend cheated on her. Not even a drop. It was pure anger that
captivated her. She suddenly saw the world in red flashes, and it was either
get out of the house, or demolish his pussified Corvette with a hockey stick.
She didn't
necessarily want to go to jail, so she left. She walked the streets, pacing out
her aggression, and cursing Derek to damnation. Yeah, she was probably really
lucky she didn't go to jail.
When the haze
finally faded she found herself at the Regency. She could have lied and told
herself she'd come for Austin. That would have been a natural reaction—seek out
your big brother for comfort. Leila wasn't one for natural reactions
apparently. She stepped foot inside those sliding glass doors for one reason
only.
Henrik. She wanted
Henrik. Hell, she'd always wanted Henrik.
He turned his cheek,
and she knew it was his silent way of checking if she was still alive. She'd
never felt this alive in her life. She tucked a piece of his blond hair behind
his ear. She'd hate him for it tomorrow, but right now, she just wanted to
pretend that the Henrik in her dreams was real.
He shifted beneath her, and she winced. She
hadn't thought this through at all. Next thing she knew his lips smiled against
her. “Sorry,” he barely said out loud. “Trying to take it slow. Not easy.”
She nodded,
wondering if he could see how much effort she took not to move. Every part of
her screamed. It was embarrassing.
Suddenly, his hand
steadied on her hip. Her fingers instantly embedded in his shoulders again. He
kissed her neck, willing her to relax, and her body followed his direction
flawlessly. Definitely embarrassing.
“I've got you,” he assured her.
She couldn't help,
but smile. His accent was suddenly more prevalent. Maybe that meant he was
nervous, too. She really hoped that he was nervous, too.
He moved again, and
again. Conscious thought was an impossibility. She'd never felt this way,
completely consumed by the present. It was ridiculous how one simple move of
his hips could erase her thoughts and numb her heart. It had to be the end, but
as the sensation continued to roar throughout her body, there was more. Much
more.
She was lost in him.
Henrik's lips, his painted and sculpted body, engulfing her from every angle.
He guided her, washing away the nerves and the pain, replacing it with
something much more powerful. Something she'd never forget.
She wasn't sure how
it happened, but he still held her limp body firmly around him. Her legs shook
with weakness as his weight pinned her against the wall. Her breath was ragged
and sharp, her mind fuzzy. He sat her feet gently on the floor, but her legs
collapsed beneath her. He followed her down, kneeling between her thighs, and
she could feel his gaze on her. Roaming her body, taking her in.
Slowly the fog of
lust drifted from her eyes, her body floating down from the high. He reached up
and pushed her scarlet curls away from her eyes, his own clouded with
questions. “You dated Derek for two years,” he managed to stutter out.
Her head fell
against the wall, her chest still heaving as she rolled her eyes at him. “Don't
remind me.”
She didn't want to
talk about it. Admitting that she wasted two years of her life on a piece of
lying, scum wasn't exactly on her to do list, especially with Henrik.
“Leila.” His voice
was suddenly firm and serious. “I just took—”
She jerked up
straight, a flash of the former anger she felt lashing through her. “What do
you want me to say? I wanted to wait until I was married to have sex. Having
standards doesn't give him the right to cheat on me.”
His eyes drew together. “Of course not. That’s
not what I meant. I just wish I would have….known.”
Having finally caught her breath, she
attempted to stand up, only to find her legs still too weak, so she sat back
down. “You would have said no?”
He leaned away from
her, studying her tight features. “No, but maybe the bathroom at the Regency
wouldn’t have been my first choice of venue.”
She snorted at the
absurdity of his suggestion. “Because where you take some girl’s virginity is
that important to you.”
It was cruel, but it
was Henrik. He deserved cruel. However, it didn't stop his jaw from gaping
open. “I thought we determined that you weren't ‘some girl’, and even if you
were, I do have standards.”
She gave him a yeah
right look.
“They may be a
little lower than yours,” he spat back at her, “but I'm not a total asshole.”
Leila finally gained
enough strength to stand up. “You had sex with ninety-percent of the girls in
my dorm my freshman year of college. You remember that? In fact, if I recall
correctly, you visited two different girls on my hall in one night.”
He stood up, too,
crossing his arms over his chest. “They weren’t virgins,” he growled down at
her. “And they weren’t you. Though, if I remember correctly, you were too stuck
up to even say hello to me.”
“You mean I didn't stop
to fawn at your feet on your way down the hall to screw the second girl for the
night? Forgive me for my insensitivity.”
“They called me. You
know, very similar to the way you showed up at my door tonight.”
She grabbed her bra
from around the faucet handle, mad at herself.
She had to stop
pretending. Henrik would never be anything more than a skirt tail chasing
asshole, just like Derek would never be a gentleman. Men weren't capable of
perfection.
“And you didn’t
disappoint,” she snapped over her shoulder, turning away from him to snap her
bra.
“That doesn’t sound
like a compliment.”
She turned around in
circles, searching for her dress. “It’s not.”
He snatched the flimsy fabric off the floor
before she could reach it and pointed it at her. “You’re not playing fair. You
don’t get to come here and proposition me, and then look down on me because I
said yes.”
“Give me my dress so
I can leave.” She jutted her chin out, trying to hold it together.
“I took your
virginity, Leila.” He spoke the words slow, exaggerating each syllable. “Why
don’t you show some emotion about that for just one moment?”
“Why?” she scoffed.
“What difference does it make? There are no knights in shining armor. There are
assholes like Derek who lie about their escapades or openly promiscuous pricks
like you. I simply chose the lesser of two evils.”
She held her hand out for
the dress, and trembled despite her best effort to control it. He tucked it
underneath his arm. “And you think I’m callous? Do you even hear yourself?”
She stepped forward and
ripped the dress out of his arms. “I’ve lost all faith in the male species. I
guess that’s what four years of college with you and two years of dating him
will do to a girl. You should feel honored.”
He watched her as
she put on the dress, his jaw clenching tight. It only spiked her anger. He
didn't have the right to judge her after everything he'd done. She
glanced at the tiny silver watch on her wrist and sneered at him. “And look,
it’s still early. You may still have time to go two for two tonight.”
Heat flushed his
face and an air of satisfaction swelled over her. She grabbed the door knob to
the bathroom, but Henrik's hand covered hers first.
“Wait. Did you hear
that?”
“Let go,” she said,
shoving him back.
She pulled the door
open, but he quickly shoved his entire body against it, slamming it back shut.
Seconds later, Leila heard it, too.
“Hey Ryley!” The voice
bellowed into the room. “I thought you were coming out tonight?”
Leila sucked in a sharp
breath. This wasn't bad. It was catastrophic. Only one person in the world got
to call Mr. Arrogant, Henrik Rylander by his childhood nickname, and that was
only because her brother was the size of a yeti.
Henrik held his finger up to his lips,
pleading with her to stay quiet. He looked terrified. She really wanted to roll
her eyes at him. Like he was the only one who'd get a lecture out of it.
“Sorry man, I fell
asleep,” he insisted, yelling through the door. “I was just about to get in the
shower.”
“Well, you really missed
it tonight—” Austin began, rambling incoherently about the happenings of the
evening. He was drunk. Thank God. His words slurred together, and he sounded
tired.
Henrik quietly
locked the door. “What are you doing?” she mouthed, pushing away from
him.
She realized too late
that he was still naked, and took a few more cautious steps away from him. He
grinned.
“Stalling,” he mouthed
back, “unless you want to walk out there together like this.”
She picked up
his underwear and threw it at his smug face.
“That’s what I thought.”
He paused long enough to slip them on. “He’s wasted. He’ll pass out in a matter
of minutes.”
Austin stopped talking,
and the room went quiet. Henrik walked over and flipped on the shower. “You’ll
be out of here in thirty minutes tops.”
“Great,” she mumbled,
going to sit in the corner of the bathroom as far away from Henrik as possible.
She didn't need his perfect abs and cryptic body art staring her in the face.
She slid down the wall, noting the ache in her thighs. A quick reminder of what
just transpired.
She lost her virginity.
In a bathroom. To the reigning man-whore of the east coast.
Awesome.
Her head fell in the palm of her hands as she
sighed. The strap of her dress fell off her shoulder, but she didn't care. Why
should she? She'd been completely naked in front of Henrik just minutes ago.
Naked. He'd seen her naked, and they had—
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She cried, silently, but
she could feel the tears leaking down her cheeks.
“Leila—”
Henrik's face was white.
His stupid, perfect face. If that wasn't enough, he was going to act concerned.
He wasn't concerned about her, he just wanted out of this situation without his
best friend kicking his ass.
“Are you okay?” He asked,
but a knock resounded on the hotel room door. It sounded urgent.
Leila jumped up. She
could hear Austin stumbling out of bed. She rushed past Henrik, and pressed her
ear to the door. Sighing, Henrik followed suit. It sounded like Micheal, one of
Henrik's teammates, but he talked in a rush so it was hard for her to be sure.
“Where is Henrik? Callen got in a fight with
some idiot in the stairwell. The cops are threatening to take him in if he
doesn’t calm down.”
She looked up at
Henrik, but he rolled his eyes. “Idiot,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Just go,” she insisted,
her eyes looking anywhere but at him. “And take Austin with you.”
Itwould be easier
that way. No awkward conversation. No listening to Henrik pretend he cared. No
chance her brother deciding he needed to piss.
Henrik bit his lip,
thinking. “Stay here,” he mouthed, placing a hand on her hip. “I'll pawn your
brother off on someone down the hall. I'll drive you home.”
Austin yelled for Henrik
now.
She vehemently shook
her head. “No, just go and get him out of here.”
He tightened his
hand on her hip. “I don’t feel right leaving you when—”
“That’d be a first,” she
snapped, whirling away from his touch.
He paused. Hurt.
She should have kept her
mouth shut. He didn't need to know why she hated him. At least—not why she
started hating him.
It was history. It was over. Actually, it
never even began.
Henrik read the daring,
spiteful look on her face. It was her customary Henrik response look. He knew
it very well.
“Fine,” he spat back at
her. “Be miserable by yourself.”
He jerked the door open,
and pushed through it. He didn’t even bother to look back like nothing had even
changed.
Because it hadn't. It was
Henrik Rylander. Of course it hadn't. She waited until the door clicked shut
before she cried.
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