A growl breaks out of my chest. “I told you not to mention that.”
“And I told you I’d definitely mention that.” He swallows something. What’s he drinking? A hot drink? A beer? Probably not water. From what I know Xavier Martinez doesnottreat his body like a temple.
“I’m not afraid of you, Artemis de la Peña.”
My toes are curled so far into the arm of the couch that a cramp is brewing in my arched foot. “Maybe you should be, Xavier Martinez.”
“You’re not as big and bad as you pretend to be.”
I’m not, but I have to be to keep everyone around me safe. The heating kicks in, gusts of warm air filling the apartment as rain beats down on the windows and roof outside.
“How do I do what?” He pulls me back to my question.
“Be Roman’s younger brother so easily?”
There’s a long beat of quiet before he bursts into obnoxious laughter. “Well. I’m glad I have you fooled if nothing else.”
“Y-you… fake it?”
He makes an affirmative hum. “Isn’t that what you do, too?”
I’ve never felt so fucking seen. And by someone who isn’t even in the room. My cock may be out of my pants, but I’ve never felt so exposed… so… transparent. Something hot and uncomfortable lodges behind my sternum.
I need to shut this down before it goes any further.
“You don’t need to hide from me, Arte.”
I can’t find any words to answer him.
“But if you need to hide from the world, maybe I can sit with you while you do?”
A confession I can’t voice dies on my exhale. If I let him in, he’ll find the parts of me that no one sees.
I hang up without another word. I thought I could talk to him, maybe have a bit of phone sex and cover my thighs in cum to blow off some steam, but this… this is something potentially way more dangerous.
Xavier Martinez is definitely a risk I can’t take, and that might be what ruins me.
CHAPTER 22
Artemis
Last night, I hung up like I touched a live fucking wire, and I didn’t sleep a wink—as is reflected by my bloodshot eyes and the dark circles underlining them.
I’m drowning in emotions. Desire, denial, fear, and I spent the whole night with a raging hard-on that no amount of stroking—or pleading with—made go away.
I’m bone tired. Shocking, I know. Most people don’t sleep well after they hang up on someone they might actually like. I stared at the ceiling until the sun crawled in like even it was judging me too.
By the time I get to the rink, my mask is welded back on. Or I think it is. Turns out? I am mistaken. Because the moment I walk into the locker room, the noise level slaps me in the face. Everyone’s chirping, loud and obnoxious, high on caffeine and brotherhood and testosterone.
Normally, I eat that shit up. Or can at least tone it down through a filter in my mind and keep my cool exterior unflappable. Today, it grates. Today? Today, I’m flapped.
“Morning, sunshine.” Rico tosses me a protein bar. “Youlook like you spent the night solving world hunger.” He pauses, tipping his head. “Did you? Because if anyone is going to fix a problem like that, it’s going to be our silent assassin.” He nudges me, eyes wide with expectation.
“Something like that,” I mutter.
He pauses, actually studies me, and that alone is enough to make my skin crawl. I don’t like being observed at the best of times, especially not when my brain is a crime scene of dirty memories, and my dick is a filthy, Wolf-wanting traitor.
Shirking his attention isn’t easy, but I direct him to bug Ares and Mikko, our goalies huddled together in a corner.
