“That’s the second time you’ve threatened to spank me, but I’ve yet to feel it happen. I know for a fact I can handle every inch, Captain. The question is, can you handle me?” My eyes close for a split second with a groan, but when I open them again, she’s smiling slyly like she won. What she doesn’t know is that I’m very competitive in everything.
You can’t play a sport and not be.
“Babe, I can handle you just fine. I bet if I reached into those leggings…I’d find your wet. Soaking. Heat.” I pronounce each word in a husky voice and almost toss her over my shoulder caveman style just to prove my point.
“Stop. For the love of God, please stop,” she breathes out in a tone filled with desire, and shifts in her seat while staring down at my lap, seeing my threat of every inch down my right thigh.
Why did I have to start this in the middle of class? Grabbing my book off the desk, I slide it into my lap and place my head on the surface of the desk as I take a deep breath to control myself. Her slim fingers rub up and down my back in a soothing manner. That’s right, Princess. I’m in pain, and only your touch can fucking fix it. She quietly giggles, and I turn my head to the side to glare at her.
“Poor baby. Does it hurt?” She bites her bottom lip hard as she tries not to laugh out loud.
“So bad, Kat. Make it better?” My pouting with a wince has her shoulders shaking and turning away from me before she loses it.
I love the back and forth we do, watching her intelligent eyes come at me with everything she has, hearing her laugh at me when I’m making a fool of myself, seeing desire that matches my own reflect in her gaze, and most of all, seeing her bloom out of her shell—the one she holds on to tightly. It’s the simple things, and she makes my day better with just a few words.
“Always, Captain,” she finally says after turning back in her seat towards me, and ducks down a little so the professor doesn’t see her talking. “Are you going to tell me why you walked in here all grumpy and glaring at anyone who stared your way,” she asks out of the corner of her mouth as she starts to take notes as the professor writes on the board up front.
Finally having control over my body somewhat, I sit up straight, only to slouch a bit in my seat with my legs spread wide until my knee is pressed against hers.
“My parents found out about us. The women gossiping at their fancy club told my mother over lunch. One of her friends must have a kid that’s a student here. Looks like we’re having dinner with my folks tomorrow night.” My teeth grind together because I already know how awkward and uncomfortable this is going to be.
Kat’s pen goes flying out of her hand again, hitting the back of a male student’s head in front of us, and she keeps mumbling an apology when he looks back with a glare. My eyes narrow on him, and he quickly glances away, facing forward again as Kat nervously sorts through her things.
“I, uh, don’t have to go right? Tell them I’m working!” she begs me, and starts bouncing her leg under her desk.
Placing my hand on her knee, it stops as I give a tiny squeeze and keep my hand there to comfort her.
“It’s going to be okay. I’m sorry, but if the Wilder family demands your presence, you better show your face or they’ll keep hounding you,” I tell her honestly. If they say one word that makes her uncomfortable, we are out of there.
I just hope they don’t bring up Victoria, since I haven’t told her the whole truth yet. I need time, because it still chokes me and cuts just as deep.
18
Kat
“Thanks for coming with me. I wouldn’t have been able to even find my seat by myself. This place is crazy packed.” My voice rises a little bit over the noise level, and I’m thankful Mary can hear me over the shouting and cheers as she leans closer, her eyes on the ice with an intensity that tells me she’s looking for a certain hockey player.
“You know me, girl, always willing to watch muscles flexing and strong, big men beat each other up to show dominance. God, just look at those determined gazes they have going on. Hope they can bring that to the bedroom too.” She grins and has a faraway look in her eyes as her gaze follows number sixty-nine on the ice.
I thought I’d have a quiet night in, maybe read a book since I’m only working Monday through Thursday and the occasional Saturday, but nope. Granger came out of his room once we got home and held up a jersey with his number printed on the back. He practically shoved it over my head and gave me tickets for the game tonight with seats close to the benches behind the glass his team sits in. So here I am, at my first hockey game, and it’s overwhelming but my adrenaline is pumping with excitement. The stands are completely full of the university student body, parents, and fans cheering on the Boston Terriers with our school colors. My jersey has his number on the back and falls down to my jean covered thighs, but it really blends in with the other fans showing their support with matching jerseys.
“You and Beast huh? How’s that going?” I casually ask her and sip my beer quickly, pretending I don’t see her narrow her gaze on me.
She starts tapping a booted heel with her arms crossed over her own jersey with the—surprise, surprise—number sixty-nine on
