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"Was it your prick of a boss? One of my teammates?" he growls, cupping my cheeks between his palms to wipe away mytears. "I'm your safe place, angel. I'm your port. You run to me. Always, you runtome. So tell me who to kill for making you want to run away."
"I did run to you!" I cry, grasping his forearms. He deserves to know that. "I've been in love with you since the first time I saw you. I came here to seeyou, Jonas. But then I saw you out there with your teammates, and I freaked out because…because…."
"Why?"
"Because I feel so stupid," I whisper. "I've spent a year doing everything I was supposed to do to prove that I deserve to be taken seriously, and it was all for nothing."
"That's not true."
"Yeah, it is," I say quietly. "I quit my job today."
"You what?"
"I quit today."
He's endearing in his confusion, like an oversized little boy hearing words he's never heard before now.
"The morning after you found me at the club, my boss told me that I either found out Charlotte's name or he was going to fire me." I swallow hard. "I've been stalling to buy time, but today he told me that I either release her name tonight or they were running a story about you and me in its place." More tears spill down my cheeks. "He has security footage of us in the parking lot from yesterday."
"He threatened you?" The dark growl sends a shiver up my spine as Jonas grows before my eyes, fury rising like the sun in his eyes. "That motherfuckerthreatenedyou?" Another growl rumbles in his chest. "I'm going to rip his goddamn balls off."
Crap.
"Don't," I whisper, clinging to him. "Please don't." More tears well in my eyes and spill over. The last thing I want is for him to risk his career over Darren. "I told him if he r-ran the story, I'dtell the world what he's done. He knows I mean it. He won't run it."
"I don't give a fuck about the story. Let him run it. You're mine, and I'm not hiding you, " he growls, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me up against his chest. "But the bastard isn't getting away with threatening you, angel. I'll be damned before I let that happen."
I bury my face in his shoulder, letting him hold me as I try to pull myself back together. I don't want to cry over this. I don't want to be sad about taking a stand and doing the right thing. But I'm sad anyway.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"For what?" Jonas nudges my head up, looking at me as if he's genuinely mystified about why I'm apologizing. "You didn't do anything wrong. Fucking hell. You quit your job to protect Theo and Charlotte."
"I hate my job." I grimace. "Hated. I signed up to cover sports, not to out relationships and drama and gossip. All I ever wanted to do was report the freaking news."
His brows furrow, his eyes losing focus as he contemplates something.
"They're going to find out Charlotte's name sooner or later," I warn him after a moment. "It's the big story right now."
"I don't think Theo gives a flying fuck," he murmurs, cuddling me close. "I think he wants the world to know exactly who she is and what she means to him." His gaze shifts across my face. "I think he's fucking tired of hiding it, angel."
He's not talking about Theo anymore.
"So is she," I whisper, not talking about Charlotte. "She's been hiding it for so damn long, Jonas. It's ready to burst out of her. She loves him so damn much."
"Fuck," he growls, slanting his mouth down on mine in a hot kiss of possession. I clutch him to me, gasping into his mouth as a heatwave rolls over me, setting me ablaze.
I don't know how he does it. But all it takes is one touch, one kiss, and I'm on fire, aching to go where only he can take me. He ignites me like kindling, and I burn willingly.
"Goddamn, baby," he growls when I shove against his chest, pushing him backward. I grab onto his jersey before he gets too far away, turning him so he's the one pushed up against the lockers. He lets me do it, his eyes at half-mast, eager and curious.
"I want you," I whisper, looking up at him from beneath my lashes. I want him here and now. Ineedhim here and now. He's the only thing that makes sense in my world, and I need him to help put me back together again the way I know only he can.
He doesn't tell me no. I think he knows how badly I need this.
He reaches for his uniform pants without a word, working them down over his thighs. His cup goes next, tossed across the locker room with a grunt of relief.
"Goddamn torture device," he mutters.
