“Yes,” I whisper as our bodies slap together.
And as she’s coming again, I lose it, giving her every drop of me.
She collapses against my chest, and we stay in a sweaty, panting heap. My arms hold her tight against me as we come down from our high.
Our eyes meet, and she moves closer to my lips. My eyes close, but she doesn’t kiss me, just hovers above.
“We have to stop with the couple things,” she says, her pussy still randomly throbbing around me.
I open my eyes and glare at her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.
But we both know that’s a lie. We’ve both said and done things that are beyond hate fucking.
Seconds later, she moves off me and goes to the bathroom.
“You need to go.” She returns, wearing the W bathrobe.
I notice an expression I haven’t seen in a very long time. “You’re afraid.”
“I can’t fall in love with you, Pattycakes.”
“Hmm. Too bad you don’t get a choice.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her voice cracks.
For a second, I think she might admit something.
“You don’t get tochoosewho you fall in love with,” I tell her. “That’s not how it works. It just happens, and there’s absolutely nothing you can fucking do about it but go along for the ride.”
I stare at her for a long moment, wishing she understood.
“Maybe that’s your problem though,” I tell her. “Message received.”
“Patterson—”
“No, you’re right.” I pull on my jeans without looking at her. “I almost forgot how much I really fucking hate you. Thanks for the reminder.”
My chest hurts, and it’s not from the hits I took on the ice tonight.
Kendall and I are in so much trouble, and neither of us realizes the magnitude of this yet. Eventually, we will—when it’s too late.
18
KENDALL
The morning after Philly, we don’t talk about what happened the night before because Patterson slips through the connecting door before dawn, and we fuck like we’re trying to prove something to ourselves, though it absolutely does not work.
He doesn’t sit by me or look at me during breakfast. Callan and Smiley take seats several spots down as he shovels eggs into his mouth. I drink coffee at a table with some of the support staff and pretend we didn’t spend the last hour trying to screw out our frustrations.
On the bus to the airport, Patterson drops into the seat beside me before I can react. I tense immediately because we don’t usually acknowledge each other in public, and that’s the entire point of this arrangement. Everything outside of the bedroom stays exactly the same.
“We need to talk,” he says, low enough that only I can hear, but I’m aware that his teammates surround us.
I continue looking out the window. “No.”
He leans in like he didn’t hear me, even though I know he did. “This needs to stay in New York. Starting now.”
