Page 54 of The Fake Out

“It gets worse,” Blaise muttered.

“How?” Ayden asked. He looked visibly angry, and that shocked me. Ayden and I had a playful banter with each other, so I didn’t expect him to be so angry for me.

I couldn’t look at any of the Holmstrom men right now. I felt their pitying looks burning into me.

Blaise didn’t sense my discomfort. “He has a baby.”

“He has a…oh shit! V, I’m so sorry,” Ayden said.

“Baby?” I asked Blaise in a quiet voice. “Can we go? I don’t want to talk about this.”

His face fell when he looked at me, but I caught his dad’s look instead. He narrowed his eyes at us, staring back and forth between us like he had sussed out what we were playing at. I tore my gaze away from him, shame crashing over me at what Blaise and I were doing.

“Sorry, sweets. Let’s go,” Blaise said.

I walked out of the bar and down the street, not caring if Blaise kept up with me or not. I wasn’t angry at him for bringing it up; I just didn’t want to talk about my ex or the fact he left me because he got another woman pregnant. I willed the tears to stay inside. I was supposed to be dead instead and not have feelings.

Blaise enveloped me in his big body, pulling me to his chest and banding his arms around my waist.

“I’m sorry,” he said. God, such a simple touch from this man made me feel instantly better. He pulled back and wiped my face with his rough, calloused hands. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Blaise?”

“Yeah?”

“Make me feel better?”

He smirked. “Always, sweets.”

I tipped up my head and kissed him. He met me halfway and kissed me back. He broke the kiss, but only so he could nose across my neck. “You’re wearing my jersey.”

I nodded. “You want it on my floor?”

“No,” he growled as he nipped at my neck.

“No?”

“I want to fuck you in it.”

“Your place or mine?”

“Mine’s closer.”

I didn’t even argue. I was horned up for this man, and I went with him to his place without a second thought.

We barely made it out of his car as we stumbled up the steps and into the row house. He lifted me up into his arms, carrying me up the steps while I kissed his neck and tried to get his tie off. I laughed when he kicked the door to his bedroom shut and dropped me on the bed.

“You like me in your jersey?” I asked.

He nodded as he shed his suit jacket, his ocean-blue eyes burning with his desire for me. “You came to my game and are wearing my jersey,” he breathed out huskily. He made quick work of his suit, shedding it until he stood there naked in all his glory. God, his body was like a work of art, and I wanted to worship it.

I licked my lips and crooked my finger at him. “C’mere, big guy.”

I reached for the hem of the jersey, but his hand reached out to stop me. “No. I said I want to fuck you in it.”

He got to work unbuttoning my jeans and peeling my thong off. This must have been a weird hockey player kink because I thought he’d want to see my tits at least. I lifted the jersey up and spread my legs so he could see how wet I was for him already.

“Want you now,” I begged.