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“Fuck goodnight,” he said in a low growl. “Get up now, or I’ll lift you up.”
“Always so bossy.” I sighed and got to my feet. “What is it?”
His gaze slid down the jersey I was wearing. I had on a green and black Hellions jersey and nothing else. Beckett’s eyes narrowed as he took in the number stenciled on the material. He should have had a good view of both the number and the name – Owens, Tyler’s last name – while sitting across the room.
“Why are you wearing Tyler’s number?”
“Because I have nothing else to sleep in…you should know that.” I gave him a sugary-sweet smile.
A muscle ticked relentlessly in his strong jaw, communicating volumes about his annoyance. I enjoyed every twitch.
“Take it off.”
“What? No.”
“Take. It. Off. Or I’ll rip it in two.”
“Don’t you dare – if you do, I’m telling Coach Eric why it’s ripped tomorrow.” My threat only made the veins pop out even more in Beckett’s neck. Threatening him to back off using the coach was a brilliant idea. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before.
“It’s coming off, Evie, whether you do it, or I do.” Beckett’s warning was soft.
I folded my arms across my chest, mirroring his pose. “I’d like to see?—”
I hadn’t finished the sentence before his huge hands descended on me, pulling me toward him and grabbing the jersey. I fought back, tugging his hands away and trying to get across the room. I’d make for the living room; it was safe in there, with Marcus and Cayden still hanging out. I could hear them talking through the door.
Beckett lifted me around the waist as I attempted to run to the door and spun me around, landing us both on his bed. My breath left my lungs in a big whoosh. He wrestled my arms to my sides, and I bucked and writhed, trying to dislodge his superior grip.
“I’m taking this off now, and if you stop fighting me so damn hard, I’ll consider giving you something else to put on,” he said,pinning both my wrists with one hand and yanking up the jersey with the other.
“How generous of you,” I quipped, trying my best to wiggle up the bed and get into position for the second part of my plan.
“I try.” Beckett’s voice was amused.
The pervert who’d enjoyed tying me up my first night here also enjoyed wrestling me to the bed. That shouldn’t turn me on as much as it did, but here we were. I couldn’t deny how feeling his hard body pressed against mine, pinning me down, was making me wet as hell.
Cool air pricked my skin as Beckett pulled the jersey over my head. I was naked underneath. I hadn’t wanted to sleep in a bra, and besides, Beckett had seen it all anyway. He paused at the sight. He was poised over me, and I was leaning up on my elbows, watching him, watching me. Dark want moved through his gaze, and it made me feel surprisingly powerful. I affected him. This untouchable man – rich, powerful, a star hockey player – wanted me. This man who had never really seemed to want anyone…wanted me.
“Well? Do I merit something else to wear?” I interrupted his perusal.
He leaned back slowly and turned to his drawers, taking out another jersey.
“Lift,” he instructed.
I complied, putting my arms in the air.
He threaded my hands through the sleeves and then drew the jersey down my body. It felt silky smooth and cool. I lowered my arms, still sitting right in the middle of his bed. He reachedout and rubbed a finger over his number emblazoned over my breast.
“This suits you much better, Tiny.”
“Does it?”
I scooted back, hoping Beckett would sit. Like he was under a spell, he did just that, leaning against the headboard, right where I wanted him. Isabelle’s random, X-rated bag of tricks had finally come in handy. She’d be proud of me. I’d already attached one handcuff to a wooden rung on the headboard, and hidden the other one under the pillow. Now, I leaned forward, sliding one hand under the pillow, and tried to keep Beckett’s eyes on mine.
“What should I do with Tyler’s?”
“Burn it. I’ll do it for you,” Beckett murmured.
I wet my lips in a way that felt awfully exaggerated, but Beckett’s eyes moved there, distracted.
