Page 52 of Hockey Boy

Rather than reply, I keep my mouth shut and force a blank expression.

Scowling, she motions between us. “Aiden, this is fake. You promised this wouldn’t be a problem. That you didn’t have feelings for me.”

My jaw ticks. “You think that was jealousy? If I were really your boyfriend, how would I be expected to act when your father barters you for business to a man in tight pants who is practically salivating while staring at your tits?”

Lennox’s eyes pop. “You’re worried about how my father’s acting while you’re the one practically pissing on me, declaring me yours?”

Angling in close, I grab the finger she’s pointing at me. “Youaremine,” I growl, my lips practically touching hers as I say it.

“For fake,” she hisses. “I’m yours forfake.”

I release her hand and lean back against the bar again. “Right. If you were really my fiancée, I’d have done a fuck ton more than just grab your waist and tell your family that we’re dating.”

Lennox’s pupils dilate, and her cheeks go pink. “Like what?”

Fuck.

Something inside me snaps—probably the string that was tethering me to sanity. “You want me to tell you what I’d do if you were really mine?” I loom over her, bringing my mouth to her ear. “Or do you want me to show you?”

When I pull back, anxious to see her reaction, she’s got her teeth digging into her bottom lip. Eyes hardening, she lifts her chin, daring me. “Show me.”

Aiden’s jaw hardens,and a mixture of desperation—or is that desire?—and anger darkens his normally warm eyes. The honey color is now as dark as chocolate.

This is Aiden unhinged. Unmasked. I’ve known him long enough to know that his dopey smile is often nothing more than a mirage.

This man is a stranger to me. When we were together, he was generous with his genuine smiles. Never once was his anger directed at me. Not even when I said it was over. We’d made a promise, and one simple word was all it took. There was no fight. No awkward conversation. There were plenty of tears on my end, but only when I was alone.

But this man right here? He’s angry.

And maybe it’s because I’d rather have the real version of him than the watered-down one, or maybe it’s because the angry side of him is hot. The jealousy? Scorching. My entire body is on fire just waiting to see what will happen next.

I’m pushing him, goading him into reacting in a way that might be our undoing.

I’m not sure if it’s because I ache for his touch or if I’m trying to push him to admit that he can’t handle this before we both get hurt.

Either way, when he sets both of our drinks on the bar and tugs me toward the black and gold velvet curtains, electricity oozes through my veins.

Somewhere behind us, the evening is beginning. Opening remarks, I suppose. I can barely breathe, let alone focus on what’s being said.

Aiden doesn’t bother pushing the curtain to the side to look for an opening. He simply bends at the knee and lifts it up from the floor, then nods for me to dip below. I’m only too happy to retreat to the darkness.

“What are we?—”

He grips the back of my neck and pulls his mouth to mine. This kiss is nothing like the last one, or the one in my apartment. It’s passion and anger, it’s want and need, it’s lust-filled and brutal. He owns my mouth, his fingers digging into my neck and directing me where he wants me as his mouth demands more and more and more until our chests are both heaving and my clit is aching. He could merely brush against it right now, and I’d combust.

The room erupts in applause, and then live music begins. The voice that cuts in is that of the man that has left Aiden so jealous he’s practically unhinged.

Obviously recognizing Ryder’s voice too, Aiden pulls back and bites down on my lip, holding me in place with his teeth. His molten eyes tell me everything.I hate that I want you. I hate that you make me feel this way. I hate that anyone else thinks they have a shot at taking you from me.

I whimper, though not in pain. I want to tell him that he needn’t worry about the man on the other side of the curtain. I want to tell him that there’s never been a man who posed any competition for my heart.

But at the sound, he releases me.

Not just my mouth, but my entire body. He holds his hands up, and his eyes bug out like he’s shocked by what he’s just done.

“Fuck,” he mutters, turning away and running his hands through his hair.

“Don’t stop,” I beg. Seeing him like this, unguarded and real, should scare me, because we promised nothing but fake emotions.