Saving the Beast, page 23
Reaching out, I poke her forehead. “So lifelike, but you must be a robot replacement of my girlfriend. Especially for someone who once told me that hockey was a bunch of oversize humans wearing blades on their feet and chasing after a ball.”
Now, she’s the one staring at me in shock. “Y-you called me your girlfriend.”
“Are you not my girlfriend?” I ask her smoothly and intertwine my fingers with hers.
She looks down, smiling. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Raising our connected hands, I guide her chin up. “You guess? Maybe you just need a little reminder.”
Her cheeks burn, and she giggles.
Dropping her hand, I slide the palms of my hands along her jaw and tilt her head toward mine. She looks up at me, and her breath hitches.
Trailing my lips across her cheek, I plant a soft kiss before moving on to the other one. Once she melts into my hands, I slowly press my lips into hers and remind her exactly what we are. I slide my tongue along the seam of her lips, and she parts them. I take full advantage, tasting every inch of her mouth. But before I get too carried away, I pull back and kiss her forehead.
“Did that help?” I ask her, wiping her bottom lip with my thumb.
She nods, then shrugs, biting back a grin. “Ehh, maybe you should try again.”
Grabbing her hand, I pull her along with me toward my truck. “Funny.”
Opening the passenger door for her, I offer my hand to help her, but she stares me down while getting in on her own.
I laugh. So stubborn.
Closing the door behind her, I go around and get in on my side.
Reaching my hand into the back seat, I grab the gift box I’ve been dying to give her all day, a little something I put together. “This is for you.”
“For me?” Her face falls, and she looks up at me with doe eyes.
Placing it in her lap, I say, “Yeah, of course.”
She looks down at the gift and then back up at me. “You didn’t need to get me anything. I don’t have anything for you.”
Grinning, I chuckle. “That’s why it’s a surprise gift, not a gift exchange. It’s nothing crazy, just open it.”
She carefully lifts the lid and pulls the tissue paper back.
“Griffin!” She swoons and pulls out the Legends jersey with my name on the back.
“I thought you could wear it to the game this weekend,” I mumble as she holds it up.
“I would love to!” She leans over the console, puckers her lips, and closes her eyes. “Thank you.”
I give her a quick kiss before saying, “There’s more.”
“More?” she questions before looking back into the box and digging beneath more tissue paper to find the envelope I taped to the bottom. She grabs it and tears it out without looking inside. “Griffin, what is this? I don’t want it.”
She shoves the envelope at me, and I push it back.
“You don’t even know what it is yet.”
“I know that it’s probably more than I can give back to you,” she whispers and looks away.
“Hey.” I slide my hand over hers. “I don’t want anything back. I just want to see you smile. That’s it, seriously.”
She looks up at me, and I can’t resist taking in every tiny detail of her pretty face. She turns her focus back onto the little blue envelope and reaches inside, grabbing the slip of paper.
“Griffin, w-what is this?” she whispers.
“It’s symbolic, really, because I’ll send you the digital version. I just wanted you to be able to open it,” I explain as she reads it.
She peers up at me, and I find her eyes welling with tears. “Is this to go visit my dad?”
Nodding, I quietly say, “Yeah. I know you miss him, so I thought that you could fly out and visit him for a few day—”
She throws her arms around me and hugs me tightly. “Thank you.”
Kissing her head, I say, “You’re welcome.”
Our home crowd goes insane, cheering for us as we take the ice for puck drop. I haven’t seen Blair in her seat—at least since I snuck a peek at the crowd earlier. I take one last glance where she should be—on the glass and next to our bench.
My chest flutters when I see her. She’s on her feet, screaming along with the rest of the crowd. Her eyes find mine immediately, and her lips tip into the biggest smile.
I take a mental snapshot, knowing that in this crowd of thousands, that girl—my girl—is smiling just for me.
She does a twirl, showing off her jersey that hangs down to the tops of her thighs. That’s it. That’s officially my favorite thing to see her in. I personally think she should wear it every damn day. Nothing is as attractive as her wearing my last name, like a sign to the world that she’s mine.
The ref blows the whistle, and I force my attention on the game, setting up for puck drop. The second it’s airborne, Asher kicks it to Elias, and we take off toward the net. Elias passes it to Malik, who dekes out the defender and flies down the empty lane, handling the puck with finesse. He slides it far left, and the goalie takes the bait, following his movement. But in one quick motion, Malik kicks the puck across the ice and backhands it right into the net between the goalie’s leg and his blocker.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” I shove Malik and shake his shoulders with praise.
We all cheer for Malik’s early goal before skating to the bench to celebrate. Since we haven’t been on the ice for very long, Coach keeps our line in, and we set back up at center ice.
Setting momentum is essential, and scoring off of the first possession says a lot about where we plan on taking the rest of the game.
They win the face-off, and I skate backward into their zone, watching the puck while simultaneously staying locked on to the player to my right.
He’s given the puck, and I jab my stick at it and poke it away. But his teammate recovers it and throws it back up to the player near the blue line.
They pass it around, trying to make a play to collapse our defense, but they are unsuccessful, and we take possession. We strategically skate it out to the neutral zone and across the center line before chucking it across the rest of the ice toward their goal so we can change our lines up.
Our domination on the ice continues all the way into the middle of the third period. The score is four to zero. Their team is pissed off and just trying to start shit at this point to try to ruin our game.
“Psst, Hawthorne.” One of their players tries to get my attention before the ref drops the puck, but I ignore him.
They gain possession and race toward the net, but I manage to stay between our goalie and them the entire time. The guy I’m glued to dumps the puck behind him and skates to my right.
Keeping an eye on him and the puck, I see their next move before it happens and line myself up to smash this guy into the boards.
Digging into the ice, their players send the puck his way, and he catches it on his stick. But it doesn’t matter because I crash into him hard as hell and flatten him against the glass.
“Fuck!” the guy cries out as he falls to the ice.
One of their guys immediately rushes me and throws a punch, but I block it with my hand, a smile stretching across my lips. It was a clean hit—a big hit, but still clean.
“Too much of a pussy to fight back?” he chirps at me, but I just shake my head.
“You’ll have to do better than that.” I laugh and look at his jersey to find his number. Twelve.
He gets in my face, and my fists tingle, wanting to smack the stupid off of this guy’s face. “I heard a rumor from a buddy of ours. Do you think you could get us a private dance with that tutor of you—”
My hands are wrapped in his jersey, and I swing him around like a rag doll into the glass before he even finishes his last word.
Pressing my cage against his, I growl, each word hissing between my lips. “Say it again. See what happens.”
He laughs as one of the linesmen skates over and pulls us apart.
“All right, guys, don’t do anything stupid,” he warns us as he skates between us.
“I’ll leave that up to this guy. As long as he doesn’t open his mouth, we’ll both be on our best behavior,” I inform him before skating away and resetting for the drop.
I glance over at Blair, and her brows are pinched and worried. I shake my head, letting her know I’m fine.
“Oh, is that her?” number twelve, my newest enemy, asks as he skates up to me, positioning himself for the face-off.
“I’m only offering mercy because of her right now. But if you look at her again or so much as mention her”—I meet his gaze and watch his face falter when he sees the seriousness in mine—“I will make good on my word.”
He shrugs and smiles. “Yeah, well, you can sure try.”
The puck falls between the two players on the dot, and they fight to win the battle and get the puck to their teammates.
Number twelve skates in front of me and waves his glove at Blair, sealing his fate.
“What did I just fucking tell you?” I shout at him, and usually, I would say it’s lucky for me that the puck glides onto his stick just now, but what I’m about to do to him won’t be debated about for penalization.
I throw my stick to the ice and race after him, flicking my gloves to the ground and ripping off my helmet.
Shockingly, he finds the balls to do the same.
His words replay in my head like a rage-fueled mantra as I grab on to the collar of his jersey and smash my fist into his jaw. He grunts in pain, and I swing back, repeatedly landing hit after hit into his face. Pulling back, I drive my fist into his ribs, right between the pads.
He can’t even maintain his balance, but I hold him up for the both of us.
Dipping into the pit of anger that always dwells in my chest, I release it, landing relentless blows into his face until red paints my knuckles.
“Do you have anything else to say?” I ask him as a ref steps in and tries to pry my hands off of him.
He stays quiet, and I smile from ear to ear and get in his face one last time. “Let this be a warning. Anyone who talks about her will be lucky if their biggest problem is picking their teeth off of the ice and not being carried out on a stretcher when I’m through with them. Do you understand me?”
He nods, and I release him. He stumbles but eventually catches himself.
I would feel bad, but in my defense, I gave him plenty of warnings not to go there. I told him exactly what would happen if he kept opening his mouth. He just decided to keep going. Now, he faced the consequences.
Malik skates beside me with a shit-eating grin, and I resist the urge to check on Blair. I don’t want her to be scared of me or disappointed for taking that too far. But I had to set a precedent that she is off-limits. Word will spread, and if anyone else makes the same mistakes number twelve did tonight, they are a special kind of stupid or cocky enough to think they can beat me.
Malik smacks my ass with his stick and smirks. “I thought she was just your tutor?”
Glaring at him, I shake my head before a smile breaks onto my lips. “Yeah, well, she’s not. She’s my girl. Simple as that.”
Malik nods in approval and lifts his stick, pointing at something in the crowd. “Well, I’m happy for you, man. And apparently, so is she.”
“What?” I ask as I follow Malik’s stick to find Blair on her feet, cheering along with the crowd as they chant my nickname.
“Beeeast! Beeeast!”
Ifeel like every girl in the lobby is staring at me as I stand in Griffin’s jersey and wait for him after the game. I’m probably just being paranoid, but as I scan the room, I’m starting to feel like it’s not paranoia at all.
The door I’ve seen a few players come through swings open, and Griffin walks out, his face relaxed, but the second he sees me, his lips tip up into the biggest smile, and I can’t help but mirror it. A small group of kids and girls dressed in the tightest outfits imaginable swarm him, but he only pays attention to the two kids at his feet, holding up Sharpies and asking him to sign their jerseys.
He says something to them, but I can’t quite make it out. Whatever he says makes the kids smile so hard that I worry it might hurt their little faces. He signs both of their little Hawthorne jerseys, and when he’s done, they spin around and take off for their parents, happy as ever.
Griffin’s eyes lock on to mine as he dismisses the few girls ogling him like a piece of meat and walks through them, making a beeline straight to me.
“There’s my girl,” he calls out, still a few feet away from me, and I watch as each of the puck bunnies’ faces twist with repulsion.
He drops his bag to the ground and spins his baseball cap around on his wet hair before grabbing my waist, lifting me high above his head, and sliding me down his body, pinning me against his chest.
“Griffin,” I squeal as he lowers me just enough to claim my lips with his.
“Mmm,” he groans as he releases my mouth and returns me onto my own two feet.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask him, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, already missing the sensations of his kiss.
He snakes his arm down mine and intertwines our fingers, nodding. “Yeah. Did Lumi already head out?”
I reply, “Yeah, he’s going over to see Paul.”
Griffin mockingly sticks his bottom lip out. “Oh no, you mean I have you all to myself tonight?”
I giggle as we walk outside, and the cool air feels so good. I know I was just inside a cold rink for hours, but the burning glares from the onlookers in the lobby had me sweating.
“Yeah, I bet you’re really beat up about it,” I tease him as he leads us to his truck, hand in hand.
The hair on my neck rises, and a cold shiver runs down my back. I feel so uneasy and caught off guard that I don’t hear what Griffin says.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask him to repeat himself.
He pinches his brows. “I just said that I am definitely not upset about it, but forget that. What’s wrong?”
Shaking my head, I try to force the concern away. “Nothing. I just … I don’t know. I felt like we were being watched. But it was probably just one of the girls back there who were looking at me like they wanted to kill me.”
“They could try. But they’d have to go through me first, and that could prove impossible when it comes to protecting you,” he says, soothing all of my anxiety away and making me swoon.
Rolling my eyes, I smile. “So smooth.”
He shrugs and opens my door for me, further proving my point.
Once I’m safely inside, he throws his bag in the back and gets into the driver’s seat.
He starts the truck, and I reach for the volume immediately and turn it up, hearing one of my favorite songs blare through the speakers.
I start singing along to “The Love I Give” by RHODES. Griffin smiles as he pulls out of the parking lot and takes us home, watching me sing and dance to the music. I continue blessing him with a free concert the entire ride—it’s not my fault that great songs keep playing—and he loves every second of it.
Griffin locks up behind us when we get inside, and I start heading upstairs to change.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, his voice deep and playful, stopping me dead in my tracks.
Spinning on my heel, I walk backward toward the stairs and answer him with sass dripping from every word, “Going to put pajamas on, duh.”
He kicks his shoes off and throws his bag to the floor, stalking toward me like a cat hunting its prey.
“Oh, really? How about we make a deal first?” he mumbles, taking another slow and steady step toward me.
Standing my ground, I can’t help but bite on his bait. “And what, my warden, is your offer?”
He glides toward me effortlessly and catches my chin in his hand. “You run. I’ll chase you.”
“Hmm. And then what?” I ask. My breathing is shallow as heat floods my core.
“That depends.” His fingers slip beneath my jersey and lightly grip my waist. “If you beat me to my bedroom, I’ll let you change into those cute pajamas. Besides, I love those matching sets you wear.”
“And if you win?” My voice is light and airy.
His fingers glide across my stomach before he dips them into my jeans. “If I catch you, then I’m going to strip your clothes from you.”
“And then?” I push him, forcing him to say my desires out loud.
He bends down and kisses me gently, tenderly, in the most seductive way. “Then, I will kiss my way up and down every inch of your perfect body.”
Well, if that’s the case, this race will be over rather quickly. But I think I’ll have some fun with it first.
Sticking my hand out between us, I agree to his terms. “Deal.”
He smirks at my outstretched hand and removes his fingers from my pants before shaking mine. “All right, my little prisoner. You get a five-second head start. Ready, set, g—”
I tear my hand from his grasp and take off up the stairs.
“Ahh!” I squeal as I grab the railing and race as fast as I possibly can.
Obviously, I would rather him catch me than for me to win, but I still want to beat him to the top of the stairs at least. I’m too competitive to lose by a landslide.
“I guess you get six seconds, you cheater. You’d better run fast!” he calls after me before counting down. “Five. Four. Three …”
I tune him out and fly up the second set of stairs after the landing, bursting through the east wing entrance.
I hear his feet hit the stairs right as I come to a stop in front of his door and turn around, waiting for him.
Moments later, he reaches the double doors, slightly out of breath, with a look of desperation in his eyes that sends tingles from my head to my toes.
“What are you doing?” he questions me as he takes the last few steps my way.
Grabbing the front of my jeans, I undo the button and zipper before pushing them down my legs and pulling them off completely. Without a word, I throw them at my bedroom door before looking back at Griffin.
His eyes eagerly travel up me, from my feet to my eyes, and I can practically feel his gaze caressing every inch of me.
