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“You taste just as I imagined,” he says, standing over me.
He leans down and kisses me. Open-mouthed, his tongue plunging into mine. I can’t do anything but take it, and I taste myself on his lips. Everywhere. Until he’s satisfied.
“Sleep well,” he says on a laugh.
And he goes. He leaves the room, while I wait in silence. Even though my wrists are still tied, and I almost expect him to come back and undo the knots, I know he won’t.
My front door closes.
I let out a groan. Because what thefuckwas that?
Then I’m faced with getting free. I inch myself up the bed until I can get my mouth near the knot. I pull at random pieces until it loosens. And finally, I’m able to slip free.
I sit up quickly, yanking my panties up and my shirt down. I feel… raw. Exposed in a way I haven’t in a long time.
And I don’t like it.
16
AURORA
My phone buzzes.
I reach for it, sighing, but when I grab it… I realize it’s notthisphone that’s going off. My heart skips, and I jump up and rush for the other one. It rattles on my desk, insistent, until I flip it open.
Yes, it’s an old-school flip phone.
L: Knox can’t play well tonight
My stomach is all but in my throat, and my fingers shake as I text back.
Me: What does that mean?
L: His coach is putting him on second line. If he pulls the shit like the last game, we’ll be paying you a visit.
Uh-oh. Knox scored late in the game, with Jacob following it up. The visiting team barely had contact with the puck for the last three minutes of the game. Which was apparently a mistake.
I don’t know what to do, and I’ve got no one to ask.
Knox wouldn’t believe me. I mean, who would believe that the owner’s son is rigging his own team to lose? How much money could he possibly be making from betting fraud?
I screw my eyes shut and try to think about that first conversation. I’ve done this so many times, recalling every littledetail I can, but none of it is helpful. I was too drunk, and when I woke up my memory was hazy.
It’s still hazy.
Me: Okay.
As far as I know, the team is leaving this morning for their away game. They’re playing in North Carolina. Which means I have maybe an hour to intercept Knox.
Hmm.
I stare at the wall, my author brain kicking into gear.
Can I take him out of the game entirely? Or… I don’t know. I putter around my kitchen, scroll my phone, but it’s all hopeless.
Until I find the bottle of laxatives Beth gave me as a joke a few weeks ago. She said travel binds her up, which is completely too much information, but…
I laugh, then slap my hand over my mouth.
