“Patterson, that’s not?—”
“Why were you with him last night?”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“Then explain because from where I’m standing it looks like Damien fucking Blackwell had his mouth on you while I was jerking off to thoughts about you.”
“Look.” Her voice goes angry. “Addison dragged me to the gallery, and he approached me.”
“And you let him kiss you?”
“I didn’tlethim do anything.” She’s pissed now, which I can work with. “He threatened me, and someone took a photo rightas he went for my mouth. I turned my head so he got my cheek instead.”
“He threatened you? I don’t understand.”
“He knows about us.” She takes a deep breath. “He had breakfast with Jameson that morning the photos came out of you leaving my place.”
Her eyes meet mine.
“And?”
“He has a time-stamped photo of when he was with your brother. Damien is pissed that I used him to get to you.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “So, you did go out with him to piss me the fuck off.”
“That’s not really the point of this conversation.” She glares at me. “Oh, and he’s going to tell my dad the truthwithproof. Not to mention, he called me a puck bunny, sloppy seconds, and demanded that I give him a real chance.” She shakes her head.
Kendall doesn’t lie to me, not about things that matter. But something’s still crawling under my skin.
“I need to know something,” I say, sucking in a deep breath. “When you went out with him, did you fuck him?”
She blinks. “What? Are you serious right now?”
“Answer me.”
“No, Patterson, I didn’tfuckhim.” She laughs, but there’s nothing funny about it. “We went on two dates. After the New Year’s party, he tried to get me off and couldn’t.”
I stare at her, nostrils flaring at the thought of his hands on her at all.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Why do you think I ghosted him?”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it, then another, and suddenly, I’m bracing my hand against the wall because Damien Blackwell, the guy who talks more shit than anyone in the league, couldn’t get her off.
“It’s really not funny,” she says, but her mouth twitches.
“It’s hilarious.” I wipe my eyes. “How long did he try?”
“Like, twenty minutes.”
“Holy fuck.”
“It was awful.” She’s fighting a smile. “I faked an emergency and left.”
“Kendall.”
“What!”
I cross the room and pull her against me, still laughing into her hair. She smells like home, and the tension that took over when I saw those photos lets up. She’s stiff for a second before her arms come around my waist, and she holds me tight.
