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“Yeah, you’ve been waiting eight years,” I said dryly. “I have the feeling you decided that was enough time to wait. You’ve never been the patient type.”
“I think I’ve been very patient,” Greyson said, his voice cold and deadly. “I didn’t come after you to tell me where Kennedy was. Even though she’s mine.”
“She’s all of ours, asshole,” I reminded him. I hated the thought of following “the Jackal.” The softness I’d felt toward Greyson earlier while remembering when we were kids melted away.
It seemed like all the good parts of Greyson had been burnt away the last five years. I’d missed him, but I didn’t miss the man he was now.
Greyson didn’t seem offended by being called an asshole. He seemed amused. “You might want to be nice to me. Because you’re gonna have to prove yourselves to me tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night? We’ve got a game the next night,” Jack said.
“I don’t really give a fuck,” Greyson said.
Of course he didn’t. I was sure he would do everything he could to sabotage our fight. But I wished I could go out and fighthim.
I was so pissed, that I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked away, but as I headed through the arena, I saw Kennedy.
She was sitting at a table, helping one of the other girls wrap silverware. Kennedy was smiling, and that smile always melted away everything else for me. She was the center of my world. Even when she hadn’t been in it, for me everything still revolved around her.
I’d do anything for her. And Greyson might be an asshole, but he knew how to help us end this threat to her. I was pretty sure that with Greyson’s help, we wouldn’t all end up in prison. I didn’t want to lose my hockey career, sure. But most of all, I didn’t want anything to ever take me away from Kennedy again.
So, I guess I’d play Greyson’s stupid games.
Whatever it took to protect my girl.
And, strangely enough, a whisper inside me corrected,Our girl.
4
That night, and the next day were a blur that I spent lost in thought so that it felt like I was sleepwalking through my life. I kept finding new threads of memory, and I didn’t want to let any of them slip away.
After work, I had the feeling Sebastian, Carter, and Jack all had so much they wanted to say to me, but I didn’t want to hear it. I kept moving, kept smiling, kept them at a distance.
Still, I slept with them at night. I’d felt like I was going to die, and I felt safe when they were with me.
The next night, I stepped into the shower in Sebastian’s ensuite bathroom. I was still fuming about my apartment. Sebastian thought Greyson was a manipulative bastard, but he would never have told me he committed a little light arson, then played hero.
But anger wasn’t the only emotion—I felt a wicked thrill at the thought of invading his space. I knew Sebastian; he liked his routines, his space. For some reason, I felt like I could feel so much more about him now that my memories were coming back, even without the little details. I had the feeling it would drive him nuts to have me in his bathroom…and that was beforeconsidering how much he would obsess over the thought of me naked in his space.
I lathered up with his body wash, knowing it would annoy the others to have me smell like Sebastian. There was fun to be had all around.
I heard the door creak open over the rainwater fall of the shower. I could almost sense his brooding presence, feel his gaze trying to pierce through the frosted glass that shielded me from view. My heart thrummed a little faster, and for the first time in two days, I felt a surge of defiant excitement—the kind of electric feeling I only felt around these men.
I wanted him to see, to know, to feel what he couldn’t have—not until he made amends for what he’d done. Not that I could imagine now how he even would.
Pretending to be oblivious, I leaned back against the cool tiles, my fingers trailing down the curve of my stomach. I closed my eyes, blocking out everything except the heat and the sound of the water falling around me. Slowly, deliberately, I let my hand wander lower, imagining the look of hungry frustration that would be etched on Sebastian’s face. The thought alone sent a spark of arousal through me as I ran my fingertips around my folds and then focused on my clit.
Through the hazy glass, I saw his silhouette stiffen, his posture changing to rapt attention. I bit back a smile, knowing full well the effect I was having on him.
My movements became more purposeful, more deliberate, as if each motion were another sentence in our silent conversation. I imagined it was Sebastian’s hands on my body as I massaged my clit, that his hard-angled, muscular body was looming over mine in the shower, pinning me to the cool tile as he touched me.
My breath hitched and my skin flushed, hotter than even the hottest shower water. Sebastian shifted, the faint sound of his uneven breath barely audible above the water. It was anintoxicating feeling, wielding the power of his desire over a man who always seemed so sure of himself and confident.
“Kennedy,” he murmured, though whether it was a plea or a reprimand, I couldn’t tell. His voice vibrated through the steamy air, adding an edge to the already charged atmosphere, but I didn’t respond.
Instead, I continued to touch myself, pushing myself closer and closer to the brink until my toes curled against the pebbled floor. My back arched, my shoulders pressing against the cold tile, and I let out a moan.
The heat of release washed over me in a wave, my body shuddering as I clung to the brink of pleasure before tumbling over. My breaths came out in ragged gasps, the sound mingling with the patter of water against the shower floor.
