Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

“Never,” he said, his tone a promise, a brand on my soul as he upped his speed.

A loud knock on the door, the vibrations hard enough to jerk Sawyer and I both back to reality. To the very real reality of being in a very public place.

“Coraline?” a waitress yelled from the other side. Another knock. “Coraline?”

I pressed my forehead against Sawyer’s, his body a statue as we waited. “Stay with me,” I whispered, and then moved on him. Used every ounce of strength in my thighs and core to lift up on him and rock down. Slowly. Torturously. Until Sawyer’s fingers dug into where he held my ass.

“Always,” he whispered back and used that leverage on my ass to move me himself. Up and down, slow and steady, until we head footsteps leading away from the door—the waitress likely running off in search of where Coraline actually was.

But I didn’t care.

I wouldn’t have cared if she’d pounded on the door the entire time.

I rode Sawyer like we were the only two people in the club. Reveled in the way he made my body sing, made me come alive with sensation.

“Harder,” I demanded, gripping the back of his neck.

Sawyer obliged, pistoning his hips with deep thrusts that raked through the heat of me until I was slick with him and me and moaning his name so loud I was certain our friends in the balcony could hear.

But as I hurtled over that sweet, sweet edge, my body trembling as he shattered me completely, I didn’t care who heard or who knew—Sawyer McCoy owned me. Body and soul.

Despite my no-strings insistence.

Despite my pathetic attempts to protect him from me…I loved this man.

He held me as we both came down, our bodies trembling with pleasure. Slowly, he slid me down his body, readjusting my panties and setting me on my spiked heels.

“I get it now,” I said, smiling up at him.

He tilted his head.

“I didn’t before,” I said, cupping his cheek. “That night. Truth or dare,” I said, grinning. “When you spoke about being so consumed by someone you didn’t care where you were, you just simply had to have them.”

A mischievous grin shaped his lips. “Feel free to use this as an example the next time Connell makes us play.”

I bit down on my lower lip, lost in those gray eyes. “You’re so bad,” I teased.

“You love it.”

“I really do,” I said, dropping my hand to unlatch the lock, leading us through an unknowing crowd and back up the stairs to the balcony and a group of friends who kindly didn’t remark on the length of our absence.

The next afternoon, I hurried out of Scythe, Sawyer’s warm-up jacket in hand.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Sawyer asked into my ear where I held my cell.

“Of course not,” I said. “I got Hayley to cover for me. She can hold down the bar for a bit.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I didn’t realize we needed the jackets for a group promo pic today.”

“Part of me wants to keep this just to see how hard Langley lays into you over it,” I teased, rounding the building toward the back lot.

“Not funny, Echo. Her husband is the scariest motherfucker in the league.”

“Axel?” I laughed. “He’s a teddy bear.”

Sawyer huffed. “If he’s a teddy bear then what the hell am I?”

“A sexy, perfect specimen.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“I’ll try to fix that,” I said. “See you in a few.” I ended the call, reaching in my bag for my keys without watching where I was going.

“Heading to see your new boyfriend?” Chad’s voice halted my steps, and I whipped my head up to find him leaning against my car. He pushed off of it, his hands raised in defense. “Don’t call the cops just yet,” he said. “I came here to apologize.”

I narrowed my gaze. His eyes were still cloudy, but not as badly as last time. My body surged with adrenaline, every danger instinct on full alert. Inside my bar had been one thing, but here? In the back lot where no one would likely happen upon us? I was exposed. Vulnerable.

“Fine,” I said. “I have to go.” I made to move around him, but he stepped into my space, close enough I could smell that metallic tang of drugs that always followed him. “Chad,” I warned.

“You’re in such a rush to go see him? To be his little puck bunny?”

I glared up at him. “Apology is going splendidly.”

He sighed. “Right. I didn’t mean for the other night to happen.” His eyes trailed to my wrist, the one he’d hurt. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” I said. “Once you decide to leave me alone.”

“Fucking hell, Echo. We did spend almost three years of our lives together, you know? Can you really just throw that away for some perfect bullshit hockey player?”