Violet’s words hit a tender spot.
Worthy of me.
It’s a concept I’ve been slowly coming to understand over the last eight months.What is my worth, and who do I share it with?The day Cal called, asking me to come help Violet and Crosby, it startled and befuddled me in equal measure that I didn’t have the answers to those questions. Since then, I’ve quietly started to untangle my personal beliefs from the mess of weighty expectations and lackluster treatment I’ve encountered for my entire life.
Growing up, I learned how to navigate an existence where I was an accessory to someone else. My parents. Boyfriends. My boss’ son. I served purposes that were entirely focused on them and how they moved through the world. I didn’t question whether there was anything in it for me beyond the temporary quell in my deep-rooted loneliness. I became what they wanted by quieting myself so that they would keep me around.
Befriending Violet was the first time I didn’t need to do that. I could be myself and be loved for it. I wasworthyof her friendship for simply existing. But when Violet moved away, I fell into old habits, old personalities, and old beliefs. I accepted hollow affection from a man who only wanted my body, and I tried to please a mother who could never be satisfied.
Moving to a new country, taking a job that brought me no social prestige, and making friends with The Midnight boys has shown me I can carve out my own, happy life. I started making decisionsfor me, and it has brought changes I never could have anticipated.
“Where did you go, babe?” Violet’s hand rests gently on my arm, pulling my attention back to her. She has a playful smile, but her eyebrows pinch slightly. “I didn’t think you could be dickmatized until you actually saw the dick, but maybe you’re just imagining the possibilities. Proportion and all that.”
I laugh, but there’s little humor behind it, even though I appreciate her attempt to lighten the mood I’ve just broughtcrashing down with my introspection. I cover her hand with my own, shifting so I can lean on the pillow and rest my head against hers.
“Mum’s been calling,” I tell her. If she thinks it’s an abrupt change in topic, my best friend doesn’t say anything. Instead, Violet lets out a quiet grunt at the mention of my mother. During our time as roommates, Violet had a front-row seat to my parents’ acrobatic skills of avoiding me and any parental recognition. In the nearly three years we lived together, I think I could count on one hand the number of times I spoke with them on the phone or saw them in person. Violet only ever saw them through the car window as they drove away after dropping me off from a quiet dinner, where they asked me nothing about my life. “I’ve sent every call to voicemail, but she never leaves a message. I figure whatever it is can’t be that important—she has a solicitor for things like that.”
“Well, Yelena couldn’t be bothered to talk to you when you lived an hour from each other.” Violet’s voice is full of the same indignation I feel when the caller ID pops up with Mum’s name. “I can’t possibly understand why moving an ocean away would suddenly prompt her pathetic excuse for maternal instinct.” Violet pulls away, looking at me with wide eyes. “Sorry, that was kind of mean.”
“Doesn’t make it less true,” I soothe. “Anyway, I bring it up because, as much as I want Nicky—as much as Ilikehim—I need to make sure it isn’t just because he’s there. Or I’m there. I’ve only had the example of relationships being convenient, not desired, and I’m embracing the fact that I deserve more than an office fuck. No matter how proportional the dick is.”
We dissolve into giggles, but Violet wraps her arm around mine and pulls me as close to her as she can with the pillow barrier. On the television, the third period starts. The camera zooms in on Nicky, settling into his goal. Even behind his maskand under his gear, his trademark seriousness shines through. He’s focused as he leans over to each goalpost for a moment, then slides his skates into the freshly coated ice, creating little piles of shavings. I reach for my phone on the side table.
“What’s up?” Violet asks as I jostle her with my movements. I finish typing in the reminder and relax to watch the rest of the game.
“Just making a note to ask Nicky about what he does before the game starts in his interview with Andy this week.” I gesture to the screen.
“Oh,” my friend replies knowingly. “Yeah, they all have their superstitions and rituals—Crosby eats the same thing before every game, and Obie has worn the same undershirt since high school. But goalies are a breed apart, babe.” Violet nudges me with her elbow, eyebrows wiggling as she giggles. “Although speaking from experience, that attention to detail pays off in somanyways.”
I pick up the pillow between us and gently shove it in her face. Despite my commitment to remain unattached until I’m sure it won’t be purely physical, her insinuations of how well Nicky might “pay attention” in ways that have nothing to do with hockey. My imagination is flooded with images and scenarios unfit for being around company. I become so distracted by them, I don’t even remember the score at the end of the game.
I don’t needthe touch of Nicky’s hand on the small of my back to alert me to his presence. I felt it the moment he came into the empty locker room, even with my back to the door. Sinceadmitting to Violet four days ago that I have burgeoning feelings for the man, it’s as if all of me is attuned to everything Nikita Baladin. My senses are nearly frayed from the way I find myself paying attention to him in the practice facility. I’ve watched him so closely, I can find the honeyed streaks in his otherwise pale blonde hair. I’m able to pick out his woodsy and warm cologne in the arrivals tunnel long after he’s gone home. And my body practically comes alive when it makes causal contact with him—an act that I’m noting has been happening with more frequency since Halloween.
“Hello,solnyshka.”
He breathes the greeting against the exposed skin of my neck, just below my ear. I shudder and lean into his touch, letting it burn through the fabric of my outfit. It leaves a wake of desire when it slides around to hold my middle, drawing me against him. Wrapping me up in him. A delighted groan rumbles through his chest, sending ripples of excitement through me. I’m giving myself to this moment—this man—now that he’s decided to act.
“I’ve been dying to hold you for so long.” His voice practically growls with repressed need. Nicky’s other hand snakes around my other hip, up my stomach and sliding into the split of my wrap dress. It cradles my breast, covering it with the size of his hand. I can’t hold back the moaning sigh that parts my lips from his bold touch. The sound deepens when he squeezes, making my nipple stiffen against the fabric of my lace bra. “You fit perfectly against me,” he praises, warm lips connecting with the column of my neck. Sucking kisses followed by teasing tastes immediately pools arousal low in my belly, fluttering with the trail he’s painting on my skin. “Should we see what else fits?”
My whole body shudders with the promise of his words. I reach back, finally burying my fingers into his soft hair, twisting my head to guide his lips to mine. The kiss is scorching.Nicky abandons his hold on me, large hands turning me before bracketing my face, tilting my mouth exactly where he wants it. He doesn’t give gentle prodding with his lips, hetakes, manipulating my own mouth to part, allowing his tongue to seek mine out. He strokes against it, seemingly savoring the reassuring brushes I manage to return. A deep growl comes from him as he pulls back, stealing my breath and leaving me gasping.
Nicky looks down at me hungrily as his finger traces the height of my cheekbone, the curve of my chin. His touch is gentle, almost full of wonder. I run my own hands from the nape of his neck, over his shoulders, until they flatten against the hard planes of his chest. His heart thumps wildly under my palm, matching the quick beat of mine. I catch the moment his rest ends. Nicky’s pupils dilate, encroaching on the beautiful blue of his irises, and his hands travel quickly down the soft curves of my body to grip me under my thighs. I gasp when he lifts me, drawing my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck for stability.
With three powerful strides, Nicky carries me to the center of the locker room, where a purple crescent moon occupies a wide circular rug. In bold black letters, The Midnight logo looks up to the glowing recessed lights. Using the self-control I’ve come to admire, Nicky lowers himself to his knees and gently lays me on the plush carpet before him. I have to widen my legs to make room for his thick thighs and massive frame. Nicky looms over me, hands pressed flat on either side of my head, keen eyes assessing.
“You are so fucking beautiful.”
The words bleed like a confession. Reverent and full of an aching truth that he’s been withholding for too long. I don’t resist reaching for him to kiss me again. He bends willingly, seeking me as well. This time softer and sweeter, but with no less passion, my fingers belying the tenderness of our lips as theysearch for a hem to strip him out of his black tee. I want to touch his skin, trace every ridge of the muscles I’ve seen flex during his workouts. I try to lift to meet Nicky’s strong body as he folds carefully to fit along the length of me, but his sheer size keeps me on the floor. With his chest rubbing along my breasts, and his hips falling between mine, I bend a knee to bring him as close as I can.
“Yes…” The hiss of my satisfaction breaks our kiss when the firm ridge of his cock finally rests against me. Nicky draws his hips away before thrusting them forward, grinding intentionally with a wicked smile as I gasp at the sensation. He’s as big and heavy as I imagined. I feel my wetness soak through my panties, dampening my overheated pussy. “That feels so good.”
“It will feel better when I’m inside you.” Nicky slows and adds a sinful swirl of his hips, rocking against my sensitive clit. The fabric only enhances the friction, driving my desire higher, and I pant in anticipation. The chain around his neck hangs between us, silver beads in an indiscernible pattern weighing down the jewelry. I carefully grasp it, tugging until Nicky drops to one forearm, close enough for us to kiss again. Holding him captive by the necklace, he lets me take control. When he begins to pull back, I suck his bottom lip between mine, using my front teeth to give the smallest of nips. His forehead rests against my own as he uses the hand not holding himself to follow the edge of my wrap dress. I drop my hold on him, settling my own hands against the dips and grooves of his abs. Calloused fingertips trace from my collarbone to where the fabric overlaps on my chest. Locking his gaze with mine, he grasps the material and pulls it to either side, revealing my lace-covered breasts. My nipples strain against the sheer pattern of delicate flowers. “Fuck,solnyshka. Look at those perfect tits.”
His hips give an involuntary thrust, and I arch toward him. He has to bend nearly in half to bring his face to my heavingchest, but the change frees his other hand from balancing him. With both hands, Nicky pulls the cup of my bra under the flesh of my breasts and holds them. He kneads them like an offering when he looks at me again, the blue of his eyes nearly eclipsed by his heightened arousal.
“Going to suck on these pretty nipples as I fuck you,” he promises, drawing each peak into his mouth in turn for a preview. My hands fly to his hair, pulling at the strands in a desperate attempt to keep his attention there, but Nicky is stronger than me and leans back on his heels. My hands drop away uselessly, disappointment and need warring within me. “It’s okay,” Nicky coos, whether because I’m subconsciously pouting or because he has a matching hunger, I don’t know. Figuring it out becomes less important when he begins to work the buckle on his belt. Deft fingers weave the material loose and begin to undo the button and fly on his jeans. “I’m going to take care of you. Do what I’ve been dreaming of for months. Claiming what I’ve wanted but told myself I can’t have.”
It’s my imagination that the teeth of his zipper releasing echoes in the empty room. The sound a reckoning and a release as I stare at him. He’s unfairly sexy as he gazes at my tits before dragging his eyes down my body. He makes little effort to encourage the faded, well-worn jeans down his hips.
