Victor (Chicago Blaze 3)

I’ve never really felt like any woman was truly mine in every way. I want Lindy to be, though. I want it so fucking bad.

We lie down on the sofa and I take her shirt off, her little white bra exactly like my fantasy. My breath catches in my throat as I press my lips to the soft swell of her breasts. Her ragged little moan only fuels my desire.

Lindy’s hands are in my hair; my mouth is on her skin. My blood is pumping hot and hard, just begging me to fuck her. What we just shared together was intimate; I want to seal that connection by physically connecting with her. She seems to read my mind.

“Not tonight,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m sorry. I do want to, but tonight…just this, okay?”

She’s right. I don’t want her first time to be like this, driven by something so ugly. I let out a ragged breath, getting ahold of myself.

“Of course, babe,” I say against her neck. “However much time you need.”

Our first time will only be about us, though the conversation we just had changed our relationship forever.

Now that she knows my darkest truth, I want to take that last step and make her mine in every way. I’ll wait, but when the time comes, I plan to devour her. I don’t want her to think of another man ever again. I’m a gentleman—a patient wolf waiting to show her all the ways I can make her body sing for me alone.Chapter Twenty-ThreeLindyI breathe in the buttery scent of freshly made popcorn. I’m definitely eating a bag of it when I go on break. But we’ve been so busy tonight, I’m not sure that’s happening anytime soon.

“Two dogs and two beers,” my customer says, his gaze on the TV mounted in the corner of the concession area.

The Blaze just tied the score up at three, and I don’t know how people can get out of their seats for food and drinks when a game is this exciting. I’m positive my dad has his emergency glass bottle next to the couch right now. I’m not saying he pees in it during exciting moments of games when he doesn’t want to go to the bathroom, but I’m not saying he doesn’t, either.

It’s all I can do to focus on my job and not the game. It was Victor who scored the goal that tied the game. My Victor! I know when I hear the crowd roaring that I need to sneak a glance at the TV screen and see what just happened.

Since our conversation the other night, we’ve been inseparable. If he’s home and I’m not working, I’m at his place. We’ve been ordering in, watching Netflix and talking. We also make out a lot. I’m making up for lost time, I guess, since I was so inexperienced when we got together.

And damn, was I missing out. Victor can make me forget everyone and everything for hours at a time with his hands and mouth. I was embarrassed when I had an orgasm during a makeout session the other day, but he told me it’s a good thing, and then he got me off again.

So yeah…I’d much rather be watching the game from inside the area right now, and then going home with Victor after to spend a few hours getting frisky in bed, but instead I’m pumping cheese sauce onto nachos.

“Boring,” Bruce says from a few feet over. “I need to go change out a pop tank. You’re in charge.”

I nod my agreement. Being in charge basically means listening to customers complain when they ask for a manager. It’s not my favorite part of the job.

But honestly, since Victor and I have gotten together, there’s pretty much nothing I like about my job anymore. I like being around Ari, of course, but working here means I have to miss out on watching half of Victor’s games. And worse, I have to listen to thousands of people cheering because they are watching them.

I have no other skills, though. My dad told me about an opening with a local heating and cooling contractor, answering their phones and scheduling their appointments, but I don’t know if I want to make the leap to a new job just yet.

“Heard you’re in charge,” Ari says as she makes an Icee from nearby. “Can I have a raise?”

“Ha! I wish.”

“Raises all around, then you should fire Bruce,” she says.

“Hey, Lindy,” a new employee, Craig, calls out. “Someone’s asking for you.”

I walk over to his register, noticing on my way that the customer already has their cell phone out recording. It’s crazy how many people record themselves complaining about our service, sure they’re going to become Twitter famous.

“Hi, can I help you?” I offer.

“Are you Lindy Boring?” a woman next to the guy with the cell phone asks.