Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Yes and yes. I do whatever the fuck I want.”
My problem has been simple, for my whole life.
I always know too much.
When you’re a quiet, shy, smart kid growing up in a world where everyone else is loud, you see things.
Notice things.
Witness things when you really shouldn’t.
When I was younger, I never knew that information could be more dangerous than a weapon. But I know it now.
Niko Berlant isn’t just trying to fight me because he’s purely psychotic.
He’s fighting me because I know something about him.
And for some reason all I can do is stare at him.
His slash of black hair falls to one side of his face. The glacier blue of his eyes focuses on me like he’s aiming to kill. Niko has the kind of eyes that always look like they have a tiny bit of eyeliner along the top row of lashes, yet it’s all completely natural; thick, dark rows of lashes above deep-set, sleepy blue eyes.
Bedroom eyes.
The kind that every intensely hot model is blessed with, and the reason I knew he had a real shot at becoming one.
He’s gotten more tattoos, too. I’ve seen them in his videos, and they’re hot as fuck, even if I think it’s crazy to get tattoos on the back of your hands.
Seeing him like this produces a reaction in me I haven’t felt in nearly a year, since the last time we were out on the ice. The weight of his body on mine causes every nerve in my body to activate. Close contact, after going for so long without enough touch.
And I’ve been hard since the moment his hands landed on me.
Not surprising, because I swear I could get hard from a goddamn breeze blowing on my pants in the right way lately.
I need sex like I need air, and I don’t care if I fuck someone or get fucked, because that’s how desperate I am to finally get rid of my own torrid little secret.
I’m a virgin, yet everyone thinks I’m a hookup king.
All false rumors.
Because I’ve never done a goddamn thing.
Niko still keeps his legs straddled around me, pinning me as I struggle to prop myself up on my elbows. He’s still trying to assert dominance.
The other Onyx guys have noticed us by now, and they’re walking over.
“What the fuck?” Noah says from the other side of the room as he heads over. “What’s going on here?”
“Get off of him,” Roman roars, not far behind Noah. Roman enjoys acting like every Onyx member’s personal bodyguard.
But it’s like Niko doesn’t hear them at all.
The feral look on Niko’s face is still aimed right at me. As the crowd forms around us, I’m almost expecting him to start choking me.
“Still won’t get off me?” I ask. “You trying to fight me or force yourself on me, Niko?”
I try to move my arm a little more and he jams my wrist back down against the hardwood floor.
I wince a little, turning my head.
One of the big speakers that fills the room with music is right next to my face, and Niko leans over me, talking near my ear.
“Keep acting like you could take my cock. Know what it’s like to have nine inches inside you?”
“Jesus, Niko.”
No. I don’t know what it’s like.
Really fucking wish I could find out.
“So you have your little piece of information,” he says, peering at me. “But are you going to tell your frat bros what you did to me?”
I need to get him the hell off of me.
If he moves his ass a little lower, there’s a risk that he’ll feel how hard my cock is, just from this.
He cannot know he has that kind of power over me.
I struggle underneath him. “Get off of me.”
“Hey!” I hear Weston shout, and I see his arm come down around Niko’s torso, trying to pull him off.
Niko is uncontrollable, though.
He leans close to my ear again, talking so near to me that nobody can hear him above the bassy music.
“Do they know you fucking drugged me at our final game? Slipped that molly in my electrolytes because you just had to get your win? Made it impossible to play hockey, Ashford.”
He really still thinks it’s true.
It’s bad blood from nearly a year ago, and he’s still convinced I was the one who drugged him. Whoever the fuck dosed him with ecstasy during the final game of the season caused him to lose the game, to me.
He acted like I was the one who did it.
Both of us knew I didn’t. I had no access to drugs. Even if I did, I would never drug anyone for any reason.
But… the molly also made him say things to me, after the game. Things I will never forget. And that’s just another reason he’s straddled over me now like he wants to rip me apart.