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As soon as he’d clicked off the camera, he’d leaned back in the chair so he could watch—which he loved to do—and promised payback later—which I couldn’t wait for.
“Eyes on me, baby,” he’d rasped, wanting me to watch him watching me. “God, you’re doing so fucking good. I love your mouth on my cock, suck it deep in that hot little mouth.” I’d whimpered and slipped my free hand into my panties. “Good girl,” he whisper-moaned. He came on my tongue while I finger fucked myself and it had been just about the hottest thing ever. Until what had happened next when he yanked me up and bent me over the desk…
I shiver at the memory, goosebumps erupting over my skin. In all honesty, I probablyneeda little break from all of it, but that doesn’t mean that Iwantone.
He chuckles and leans back against a brick wall.
“I like hearing you say that. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
“Oh fuck off, Shepherd.”
He looks indignant. “I was being serious! But fine, be rude.” He glances around before adding quietly, “maybe I’ll make you beg me to forgive you when I get home…” Another little shiver runs through me and he grins, knowing damn wellexactlywhat such a simple sentence just did to me. He likes making me beg sometimes, and I can’t even pretend that I don’t like it just as much.
I let out a long exhale. “An-e-wayyyy,” I exaggerate to change the subject. “You at the stadium?”
He does that guy head-jerk-nod-in-greeting-thing to someone walking by, another player I assume. “Yeah, I’m about to head into the locker room to get ready.”
“Well, good luck. I’ll be watching the game in that little black lacy number you like so much…”
He scrubs a hand across his jaw and groans. “You are a cruel woman, Hattie McNamara.”
“Don’t start games you can’t win, Connor.” I smirk as I hit the clicker to unlock my car.
“You heading home?”
“Yeah, gonna grab something to eat and then…” I trail off as I get closer to my car, reaching for the handle on the driver’s side door, but something, I can’t even say what, makes me freeze.
“Hattie?” he asks, brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“I…I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” I frown, dropping my hand and taking a step backwards. I glance around, but I don’t see anything weird—no one lurking in the shadows, no unmarked vans parked nearby. I even bend down and check under my car, but there’s nothing there. Even so, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my pulse races, my skin prickling uncomfortably. What the hell? Why is my body reacting so weirdly for apparentlynoreason? It's like some instincts I don’t even understand are warning me about…something. Butwhat? The whisper of an answer tickles against the back of my mind, but I can’t quite grab onto the thought and then it’s gone like smoke on the wind.
“Wrong? Like what? Are you hurt?” Connor asks, pushing off the wall and looking concerned.
“I’m not sure. It just…I don’t know, something doesn’t feel right.” I have no idea what’s wrong with me, what could possibly be making me feel so strange, but there’s just something deep in my bones telling me that something is up.Wrong, wrong, wrong, my mind whispers, the words thudding in time with my racing heart.
“Hads, go back inside and get Rand or Larsen or one of the other security guys to walk you back out to your car and check things out, ok?”
“No, it’s ok, I’m ok…”
“Hattie,” he says, his tone brokering no argument. When I glance back at the screen, his eyes are burning with something cold and intense and terrifying. He looks like he wants to come through the phone and rip whatever is scaring me apart with his bare hands. “Do it.”
“Ok,” I whisper, whipping my head back and forth as I jog the short distance back to the doors. I’ll admit I feel better once they close behind me, the lock clicking into place. No one can get in these doors without a key card. “I’m inside,” I tell Connor, though he can probably tell already, but I’m nervous and on edge and just need to talk to him, even if it’s stating the obvious.
“Are you alright?”
“What’s wrong?” I hear someone ask in the background.Rizzo?
“Not sure yet. Hattie, are you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m ok. I…maybe it was nothing. I’m being stupid.” Even still, I make my way back to the front of the arena where one of the guys is always at the security desk.
“No, you aren’t. Your gut was trying to tell you something, your mind warning you before you could even process why. It’s better to be safe than sorry. There are always a lot of break-ins and stuff around the holidays. Maybe someone was checking cars for open doors.”
“Yeah, maybe…”
“What’s going on, Shep?” Rizzo asks again, sounding uncharacteristically serious.
“Hattie was walking to her car in the parking garage and felt like something was wrong. I told her to go back in and get one of the security guys.”
