The Game That Breaks Us (17 page)

“Nah, I’m fine.” I gingerly remove my hand from hers so I can put the car in drive. I want to get out of here before Matthews calls the cops or something. As we pull out of the neighborhood, I glance at her. “Are you okay to stay at my place? I can get you a hotel room if you’re more comfortable there?”

She shakes her head and looks away from the window to me. “Your place is fine.”

“Okay,” I say, my throat catching for some odd reason. 

We arrive at my place thirty minutes later and I park in the garage beneath the building.

“This place looks swanky,” she comments. “At least from the outside. Garages all look the same, no offense.”

I laugh and get out of the car, grabbing our bags. “None taken,” I say when she gets out. “It is a pretty nice place I admit. I like it.”

She follows me to the elevator and I press the button for my floor. 

“Not the penthouse?” she asks, pointing at the P button and raising a single brow.

I laugh. “No, not the penthouse. Didn’t want that. This is plenty big for me.”

She nods. “Not the penthouse,” she repeats.

“Making a mental note, Wentworth?”

She smiles. “Maybe. I’m deciding that maybe you’re not as douchey as I originally thought.”

I put a hand to my heart. “Aw, I’m touched.”

She punches me lightly in the stomach, her lips twitching with laughter. 

The doors open and I lead her down the hall to my place. I set our bags down and dig my keys out of my pockets. I unlock the door and it swings open with a slight squeak.

I pick our bags up again and motion for Grace to head on in.

“Home sweet home,” I say, coming behind her. 

I close the door and flick the lights on, dropping our bags on the floor again.

She looks around, and I wonder what this place looks like from her eyes. Probably pretty plain. The walls are white and gray and the kitchen has the same color scheme topped off with stainless steel appliances. 

The floors are all some sort of dark hardwood—no rugs. My couch sits in front of a large flat-screen TV and every gaming console I could get my hands on. There’s a wall of windows across from us that overlooks the city of Boston. It’s the reason I bought an apartment in this building: the view is unparalleled. 

Grace crosses her arms over her chest and looks out the windows.

“It’s beautiful,” she comments. 

I step up beside her, our arms brushing against each other, and I swear she shivers. 

“It is,” I agree. 

But I’m looking at her.

I’m always looking at her.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Bennett asks, moving away from the window.

I know I should go to bed, but tomorrow
is
Saturday, so I don’t have to be up early. “Sure.” I shrug. “But let me go change into something comfier.”

He grins. “Oh, right, your sexy PJs.”

I smack the back of his head, and he laughs uproariously. 

“Where can I change?” I ask, looking around.

“Oh, right.” He grabs my bag and leads me down the hall to a bedroom. He turns on the light and steps back after putting my bag on the bed. “My room’s the one at the end of hall. Your bathroom is just across.” He taps the closed door.

“Thanks.” I close the door behind him so I can change.

The bedroom is plain with white walls and oak furniture. The bedding is a basic gray that matches the color scheme of the rest of the house. But considering this is a bachelor pad, I guess it’s better than it could be. I mean, there could be a pinball machine in here. 

I close the blinds and change out of my clothes into a pair of sleep shorts and a loose shirt. I add a pair of knee-high socks because I’m
always
freezing.

I find Bennett sitting on the couch, changed into a pair of sweatpants—shirtless.

Kill me now.

The man’s body is a work of art between all his muscles—seriously, hockey must be really good for the body—and the tattoos. There’s a spear between his shoulder blades and I wonder if he got it to represent the Plymouth Hunters. 

He looks up when he hears me. “What do you want to watch?”

“You pick. I’ll probably fall asleep anyway.” I yawn as if to prove my point. I sit down beside him, careful to keep a distance between us. 

He notices and shoots me a shit-eating grin. “What are you afraid of, Princess? That if you get too close you won’t be able to get enough? Come on, you can look … and lick if you want.”

“You’re so gross.” I push his shoulder and he falls back cackling.

Then, just because I can, I grab his arm and lick his firm bicep over a tattoo of a leaf. 

He laughs even louder. “That’s not what I meant for you to lick,” he chortles.

I blush and mumble, “I know.”

He touches my cheek, and I reluctantly lift my eyes to his. He stares at me intensely, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, but just as quickly, he pulls away and says, “I’m picking
Snow Dogs
.”

“What?” I say, confused. “Wait, the moving with Cuba Gooding Jr.?”

“That’s the one.” He presses some buttons and the movie begins to play.

“I cannot believe you own
Snow Dogs
let alone want to watch it.” I shake my head. “You keep on surprising me.”

He smiles. “As do you, Princess.”

He wiggles around and gets comfortable and the movie starts. 

My eyes grow heavy and he sighs, lifting his arm in invitation. I look at him reluctantly. I know I shouldn’t, but …

I move and snuggle against his side, resting my head on his chest.

Since I can’t see, I can’t be sure, but I’d swear he kisses the top of my head.

This … This feels good. 

Normal even.

And I have to remind myself over and over again that it’s not real.

We’re not a couple, and I don’t even know if we’re friends.

Besides, he’s using me to get what he wants, just as I’m using him to show me how to be bad.

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

Then why does it feel so damn right?

I blink my eyes open, taking in my unfamiliar surroundings. I’m confused at first but then I remember coming to Bennett’s apartment after he confronted his coach.

I’m in the guestroom, but the last thing I remember is falling asleep on the couch so Bennett must have carried me to bed.

I sit up fully, the sheets pooling at my waist. The beginning rays of sunlight break through the blinds, and I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It shows that it’s a little after seven in the morning.

I don’t know what time Bennett will want to head back, so I decide to get up and be ready. I head across the hall to shower and find that there aren’t any towels or soap.

I sigh and tentatively tip-toe down the hall to his room. I push the door open and find that his bed is rumpled from sleep, but empty.

He probably went to the gym or something. I figure there’s no harm in raiding his bathroom for what I need, but as soon as I reach the half open door, I realize that was a mistake.

He’s just turned the shower on and he opens the glass door, stepping inside.

He doesn’t know I’m there.

I should turn. 

Run.

Get my ass out of there.

But I can’t.

I’m frozen, held prisoner by my own body. 

It’s wrong, but I stare at him. At the smooth planes of his back and the firmness of his ass. 

Standing here is so wrong.
So wrong
. I’d be embarrassed to know he was watching me like this, and yet still I cannot move. 

He turns then and I stifle a gasp by biting my lip. My whole body clenches, and a shiver runs down my spine. 

He’s beautiful. He’d probably sneer at me if I ever said that out loud, but it’s the truth. 

I lick my lips and I stare at him for only a few seconds longer, before I force myself away. I run back to the safety of my room and dive under the covers. Now that I’m away from his potent presence, I feel ashamed of my actions. He had no idea I was there and I was staring like some kind of pervert. But even with my shame, I still feel so incredibly turned on. My body is tight all over with the need for a release I’ve never really had. 

“Hey.”

I squeak at the sound of his voice.
He saw me
.

I pop my head up from beneath the covers, pretending to just be waking up. He stands in the doorway in a pair of loose shorts, his chest glistening with water and his hair damp.

Fuck, he’s way too good-looking for his own good.

“Good, you’re up,” he says. “Wanna go get breakfast?”

“Sure.” My voice is high-pitched and not at all natural.

He raises a brow. “You okay?”

“Just peachy.”
I mean, it’s not like I stared at you naked or anything.
“Mind if I shower first?”

“Go ahead.” He peeks in the bathroom and pops back in the room. “I’ll grab you a towel and stuff. I forgot I never stocked that bathroom.”

“Cool. Thanks,” I squeak again.

He looks at me with concern and then shrugs and walks away.

I breathe a sigh of relief. He doesn’t know—if he did, he would’ve said something. Bennett can’t keep quiet about anything.

I shower as quickly as possible and then we’re out the door with our bags in hand. 

Bennett drives a few blocks over from his apartment to a small restaurant hidden between two larger buildings. The place is quaint and doesn’t seem to belong in the bustling city, but I like it. 

“They have the best waffles,” Bennett tells me, sliding his menu to the end of the table.

 I slide mine over too. “Waffles sounds good.” 

He grins. “So, what do you think of Boston?”

“I’ve been here before. I like it. No place beats home for me, though.” I shrug.

He crosses his hands together. “Home is always special, isn’t it?”

I nod as a waitress comes over to take our order. Bennett and I order the same special and both of us get waters to drink.

Bennett runs his fingers over his face, and I can see how tired he looks.

“I’m sorry about your coach,” I say. I might not know what’s really going on, but it’s obviously pretty bad. I hate that Bennett is so torn up about it—he’s a pretty carefree guy, so this is really eating at him for it to be so obvious on his face.

He shrugs like it’s not as big of a deal as it is. “Thanks again for coming with me.” He slides the peppershaker back and forth from hand to hand. “I … It meant a lot.”

I give him a small smile. “I’m glad me being here made you feel better.”
And I’m glad you know I wasn’t staring at your dick this morning
. The thought alone brings color to my cheeks.

“Why are you blushing?” he asks wish a slight chuckle.

“No reason.” I look away and up at the TV that plays a news morning show.

“Is it because you saw me naked?” My mouth pops open and he grins. “I thought I saw you.” He chuckles. “I never would’ve expected
you
to be a peeping Tom.”

My face turns as red as a tomato. “It was an accident.”

“But you didn’t run away,” he comments. I have no comeback for that and he knows it. “I take it you like what you saw?” He raises one brow. The waitress leaves our drinks and I rip into my straw. “I’ll take that as, ‘Oh yes, Bennett, you have the finest ass I’ve ever seen.’ I’m sure your thoughts on my cock were much dirtier.”