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“So?” he prompts when the air is thick with the scent of garlic and herbs. “About that price list.”
Oh yeah, I never did answer him. “Let’s say the same as you paid me at Cupid’s Court,” I quip, tossing the peppers into a bowl.
“Hmm,” he muses, his green eyes dancing with mirth. “Minus food, rent, utilities, and—”
I hold my hand up, silencing him. “That stuff doesn’t count since I didn’t ask to come here.”
“Didn’t you?” he volleys. “Would you rather—”
“Fine, fine.” Remembering the alternative, I relent. “You can deduct that if you must. But I’m serious. I said the same to Mickey before he disappeared.”
Soren chuckles. “I thought you said he hadn’t fucked you since Cupid’s Court?”
Shaking my head, I finish the salad, tossing the veggies in the bowl so it’s mixed. “He hasn’t. But before his disappearing act, he insisted on sleeping with his fingers in my pussy, which isn’t free.”
It feels weird to stand here and talk to him about it, yet I stand my ground. Too many times I’ve run from what makes me uncomfortable, delayed things just because I didn’t feel ready. I can’t keep doing that.
Now I have Fet to think about as well, and I don’t want to set a shitty example. Sure, it’ll be years before Fet will know anything about the world, but that doesn’t mean I have to keep procrastinating.
Once dinner is ready, we eat at the kitchen table, indulging in small talk. Soren tells me a few stories about his life, nothing big or heavy. And then he explains the rest of the hockey season to me, so I know what to expect.
“We’ve only had home games this week, but next week we have to travel.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Since you’re coming with us, it would help if you’ve talked with Lucia before then. Girlfriends and partners can’t travel with the team, but I don’t want you to travel on your own.”
I know he didn’t mean to insinuate I’m a girlfriend, but my heart skips a beat all the same. Warmth spreads through my body, and I can’t stop picturing what it would be like to be theirs for real.
Sighing, I take his hand. “Soren, I need my phone. I can’t communicate with Luce on your schedule. If she’s out of town without having told me, she’s either pissed or in trouble.” My heart plummets as I recall all the unanswered texts and calls. The only reason I know she’s… well, somewhere, is because Sawyer told Soren.
He threads our fingers together, never looking away from my face. “I know,” he says simply. “But I won’t betray Mick, and he has your phone.”
We continue eating in silence, and as soon as we’re done, Soren insists on cleaning up on his own. I push back from the table, my body feeling somehow both sated and starved. I’m heavy with food, yet there’s an ache deep within me that dinner—or Soren’s skilled fingers—cannot ease.
“Think I’ll take a bath,” I say, standing and stretching languidly. “Maybe turn in early.”
“Need company?” Soren’s voice is low, teasing, but I can hear the genuine offer beneath the playful tone.
“Maybe another time, when I’ve worked out a complete price and service list.” I flash him a sultry grin, one that promises rain checks on steamier nights than this. “Tonight, I just want to soak until I prune.”
I leave him to clear up and pad upstairs to the bedroom, the scent of citrus and spice clinging to my skin like a phantom caress. My thoughts drift to Mickey, to that familiar brooding shadow he casts even in absence.
Where is he? Why isn’t he here?
The bedroom door creaks softly as I push it open. The moment my eyes land on Mickey’s laptop on my bed, I forget all about my bath and instead power it on as I’ve done every day since he left it for me. Besides using the device to talk to Jamie, and message my mom and Luce, I’ve become addicted to looking the guys up. Call it morbid curiosity.
No longer needing to type in the words “Mickey The Missile Davis” to find out what he’s up to, I click on the website I bookmarked days ago. Since it doesn’t look like he’s been spotted anywhere, I click on another bookmark for a celebrity gossip blog called “The World According to C & C”.
“The Minneapolis Sabertooths now officially house everyone that was part of Mickey The Missile’s baby drama!”
Hold on to your hats, folks, because the drama is back with a vengeance!
In a jaw-dropping twist, the Minneapolis Sabertooths have just made a deal with none other than hockey heartthrob Mickey ‘The Missile’ Davis.
Brace yourselves as we dive headfirst into the scandalous past that’s come back to haunt this icy heartbreaker.
Let’s rewind to a time when the world was rocked by the bombshell revelation that Davis wasn’t the doting daddy everyone thought he was. Oh no, dear readers, it turns out that his long-term flame, Simone Harris, was cooking up a scandalous storm behind closed doors.
