BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance by Eddie Cleveland (ebook reader macos .txt) 📕

runs his hand down my back, and I snuggle into him closer. “That pussy is mine.” He tilts my chin up and kisses me slowly. I can’t believe how much I want him again. I’m not sure what Blaze is doing to me. I think he’s turning me into a nympho or some kind of fiend. Or, maybe this is what it’s supposed to feel like? The fire in his eyes. The electricity in his touch.

“It is,” I murmur, settling my head into him. Our legs are tangled beneath the blanket. He has his arms around me. I feel like we kind of melt together. My pussy can be Blaze’s if he’s going to treat it like that. “So that means your cock is just mine then, right?”

Blaze lifts his head to lock his eyes on mine. “It is completely and only yours.” I can see the honesty in his eyes. He lays back down and a smile kisses my lips, but as my mind starts spinning, it fades.

So, Blaze has my pussy, and I’ve got his cock. But what about our hearts?

I climb on the bus and make my way down the aisle to an open seat. Settling in, I pull off my wool winter hat and gloves, stuffing them in my bag. The peripheral shadow of his figure is what catches my eye. I press my cheek against the cool window and can’t hide my smile. Blaze is outside, laughing with his co-conspirators, Rookie and Canuck. Our co-conspirators, actually.

We busted our asses to get them back to the hotel. If I was following my own rules, all of them would be suspended. Their careers in hockey could get ruined. Certainly, their school year would be. A rule that used to seem perfectly fair makes me cringe. That’s a lot of punishment for one mistake. I’m not sure why I didn’t realize that before. I lost my last job because of someone else’s mistake. I think I lost perspective.

The brush of Rookie’s arm against mine as he sits in the seat next to me snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Looks like we’re travel buddies again.” He gets comfortable, leaning his head back into the seat.

“It does.” I nod.

The seat in front of me shudders as Blaze flops into it. He turns around, and before I can read his face, he turns back in his seat.

“You must be looking forward to getting home and getting away from all these guys.” Rookie keeps talking.

“Uh, I guess.”

“I have three sisters,” he rambles, but I stop listening because Blaze gets out of his seat and plants himself in the aisle next to Rookie.

“Move,” he says plainly.

“What? Why?”

“Because, man. You don’t try to date your parole officer.”

“More like I’m trying to date your parole officer.” Rookie smiles, but Blaze doesn’t.

“Move,” he repeats, and this time Rookie listens.

“Fine, man.”

The edges of Rookie’s ears burn red as he and Blaze do a square dance in the aisle to switch seats.

Blaze plants himself next to me, and Rookie pulls out some earbuds and his phone.

“Whatever,” he mumbles under his breath, sticking the distinctive white plastic in his ears.

Tilting my head, I raise my eyebrow at Blaze, hoping to say “Really?” without speaking a word.

Blaze shrugs.

There are way too many potential listening ears on this bus. I can’t really say anything without revealing his dirty little secret and confessing my ultimate broken rule. Pressing my lips together, I pull my phone out of my bag and wiggle it in the air at him, my eyebrows arched high. I type my message out to him: Jealous?

His screen lights up, and luckily his phone is on silent. We’d be a couple of amateurs to be texting back and forth with the notification bell alerting every person on this bus.

Blaze: I don’t do jealous. Just protecting what’s mine.

Fuck. It’s hard to act calm and cool when he can see my lips twitching up.

Me: Who said I’m yours?

I know I can’t back my words up with my face, so I keep it hidden. Staring down at my screen, I avoid his eyes but can still feel the intensity of them burning into me. He slips his hand, discreetly, over my thigh. His fingertips squeeze into my sensitive skin, and he types the shortest text message ever with his other hand.

I fight the feelings swirling up inside my belly. I ignore the flash of heat that climbs my skin. My eyes focus on my lit-up screen.

Blaze: Me

It’s two little letters. One measly word. And it’s enough. The bus ride drifts by in meaningless conversations, half-watched videos, and dozed-off dreams. When we finally get back to Westbury, the campus lights sparkle against the inky darkness. Arriving in the parking lot beside the arena forces us from our bubble. It rudely ejects us from the comfort of our cocoon and separates us in the frosty night.

Kaylee and Hattie and Etta are all waiting with a bunch of other girls. I say hello, but their attention isn’t on me. They’re happy to see the men they missed. The men they love. I walk to my cold car and pretend I’m not jealous. I pretend I don’t already miss him. I pretend that home is the place I’m still going to and not the place I just left behind.

22

Actions & Words Blaze

Prissy walks across the parking lot to her car, and I watch her take every step. Not just because of the way her ass fits in those jeans, but, fuck yeah, it’s for that too. It’s also because I wish I could go with her, or that she could come home with me. Maybe loneliness isn’t about being alone, because I’ve never felt lonelier than I do watching her walk away.

I reach into my inside coat pocket, pulling out a fatty I’ve been saving the entire drive home. I pinch my lips around it and start to spark up my lighter when Canuck pulls it out of my