Face Off (Seattle Serpents, #2)

by Teagan Hunter

“You’re such a good girl.” Good girl. There are those words again. I try my best to ignore them and the way they make me feel—all tingly and balmy—and how they make me wish Lawson wasn’t so far away.

“Well, just know all of Seattle is cheering for you.” “Even you?” he asks, a smile teasing at his lips. Yes. “Not a chance,” I tell him, hoping the sarcasm I’ve laced in my words sounds genuine and not as fake as it does to me. “Hmm. I doubt that.” And he’s right. He’s so, so right.

He falls back on his bed, raising his arm up and tucking it under his head. I don’t look at his muscles straining against his simple gray t-shirt. Or at his dark hair that looks so damn silky even on video. Or the rough-looking five o’clock shadow that needs a shave.

A soft laugh rumbles from his chest. “What?” I ask. “Nothing.” He shakes his head, smiling at me. “It’s nothing. So stars and snow, huh? That’s your thing?” “And horror movies on Christmas.” “Of course. How could I forget that?”

He’s beaming at me, and it’s the most I’ve seen him smile since…well, The Balcony Thing. “For you, Rory, I’d gather every star in this sky and string them high somewhere only for you, just to see you smile like that again.”

“Then who is—oh. Oh. It’s a sexy phone call, huh? Is that why you’re in your panties?” “I’m not in my panties, you dick. I’m just…” But he doesn’t continue, which tells me he is in his underwear. Why did Lawson call me in his underwear? And a better question is: What kind of underwear is he wearing? Are they goofy with different characters on them? Are they plain? Is he a boxer guy or is he wearing boxer-briefs? Are they⁠— No! No. Stop thinking about Lawson’s underwear!

“Wait. Is it Rory? Is that Rory on the phone? The girl you like? Are you having phone sex with Rory?” Did Hayes just say…

“Pfft. Sounds to me like you’re into her and don’t want Hutch to know because he knows you’re a total moron and playboy and he wouldn’t want you to defile his future sister-in-law.” “Can you shut up for five seconds?” I laugh, mostly because Lawson telling someone else to shut up is hilarious.

I don’t know how long I sit there on the floor of my office hiding away from my responsibilities while I try to sort out the millions of thoughts running through my mind, but it’s far too long. And it’s all because of Lawson.

When I’m satisfied with the photo, before I can think about what I’m doing, I send it with two words attached: Even me.

That night, the Serpents win for the first time since they’ve been on the road, and for the second time, I fall asleep wearing Lawson’s jersey.

I think what surprised me even more than her hearing it was that she didn’t seem fazed by it at all, like maybe she wasn’t entirely uninterested in the idea of me being into her. I mean, she obviously knows since I kissed her, but that was weeks ago, and nothing has happened since. Maybe guys kiss her all the time. I clench my fists at the thought. Fuck, I hope guys don’t kiss her all the time. I want to be the only one kissing her as badly as I want to kiss her, which is saying something because I really, really want to kiss her.

Fuck. I don’t want to say no because I don’t want to let Paige down, but I also really, really want to see Rory. Going nearly two weeks without her is far, far too long.

Anything that doesn’t make this seem like it’s more than just me coming to pick up Daisy. Which technically, it’s not, but it also kind of is. I’ve been talking to Rory every day while I’ve been gone. Whether she wants to admit it or not, we’ve become friends.

Her eyes connect with mine, and all I can think is, You didn’t fight it when it was me hugging you, Wednesday. I’d bet my left nut she’d flip me off right now if she could.

I spin her chair around, then drop to my knees, setting Daisy down before I wrap the overworked veterinarian in my arms and hug her. And, like the last time, she doesn’t fight me on it. No, she leans into it. Hell, she even hugs me back, her arms coming around me and holding on to me for dear life as her body begins to shake with quiet sobs.

She’s snotty and warm and blotchy and definitely looks like she’s been crying, yet she’s never been more beautiful than right now. She shoves her hair out of her face, and I watch as embarrassment passes over her features.

“Hey…” I say softly. She tries to look away, but I don’t let her, gripping her chin and forcing her to face me. “Hey,” I repeat. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. That was extremely unprofessional and not to mention gross. I hate…” She shudders. “Feelings. I hate having feelings.” I chuckle. “Feelings are normal.” “No. No they are not. I hate them.” “Okay, well, hate them all you wan...

Lucas. My heart stutters at the sound of my name. It’s dumb, I know that. It’s my name for fuck’s sake—I hear it all the time. But somehow, just now, it sounded like so much more than my name. And the fact that she trusted me to cry in front of…that means something too. What? I don’t know, but I know it’s something big I can’t quite put my finger on.

Her words sound tired, but not an I’m tired of you kind of tired. It’s more the I am tired down to my bones kind of tired.

“No, but I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here and make you take one.” “I…” She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “You wouldn’t.” “Oh, Rory…” I inch closer, casting her in shadow as she stares up at me with wide eyes. “I so would.”

“I’ll go with you…on one condition.” I narrow my eyes skeptically but nod. “Okay…” “I’m bringing my cat.” I laugh. “Deal. You can bring your cat.” “Yes!” She fist-pumps the air. “But, Wednesday?” “Yes?” “Bring my jersey too.”

He’s far from what I had in my mind the first time I met him. Right away I knew he wasn’t the kind of guy I’d ever want to hang around. He oozed jock vibes, and not in the good way. But the real Lawson… Well, he’s definitely not just a jock. He’s something so much more.

He shakes his head, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. I never knew watching a guy drive was something I was into, but I’m slowly starting to realize there are a lot of things Lawson does that I shouldn’t find attractive yet do.

“Oh, trust me, Rory—I’m a bad boy where it counts.” He tosses me a wink, and it’s as cheesy as that line he fed me during The Balcony Thing—yet my body throbs at the gesture.

Even through that, I don’t miss how he’s deflecting again, like he did on our phone call when I asked him about Jaden. It makes me believe that, despite the stereotypical jock, meathead persona he puts out, it’s far from the man he really is. I like the man he really is. A lot.

“That’s quite a lot of lists. I’m surprised there’s no Ways Lawson Continues to Turn Me On list.” He grins wolfishly. “Unless there is.” “No,” I answer quickly. Too quickly.

Like, for example, Lawson could kiss me again, and I’d be stuck with him for a whole weekend trying to resist kissing him again. It sounds like torture if you ask me.

“Bringing a girl, huh? You haven’t done that since…” “I know,” Lawson says, his eyes finding mine. He’s brought other women up here? Be serious, Rory. Of course he has. Right. It makes sense. I’m not stupid. I know I’m not special. This is probably normal for him. He might do things that make him seem human, but he’s still the same playboy and this still means nothing to him.

It’s stupid, I know that, but I can’t shake the idea of him bringing other women here. This was supposed to be a weekend away, for me to finally relax; now, all I’ll be able to think about is which surface is safe to touch and did he properly disinfect it after he was done.

We pile back into the SUV, and I try my hardest not to be turned on by Lawson putting his arm on the back of my headrest and turning around to reverse. He has a perfectly good backup camera he could be using. Does he know how hot that move is and is just doing this to torture me?

Those damn eyes that are impossibly gray meet my own, and I briefly wonder if there will ever be a time when I look into them and don’t feel like my breath is being stolen from my lungs.

“I’ve never brought anyone else here,” he continues. “Just you and just her. I don’t share this place with people who don’t matter.”

He looks silly standing there loaded down with our things, but when I offer to help, he refuses, saying he’ll come back out for the groceries. Normally I’d argue, but I’m too eager to see the inside of this cabin he promises is better than this view.

Funny, because I perform surgeries on animals and am known for having steady hands. When it comes to Lawson, though, it’s a different story.

I reach down farther, sliding my fingers deeper and deeper, but there’s still nothing except the heat and hardness of his sculpted thighs. I know hockey players use the hell out of their legs, which means they’re probably fairly strong, but holy hell. I was not expecting them to be like this.

“I just figured you wanted to feel me up.” “I hate you,” I tell him, spinning around and unlocking the door. He laughs lowly at my back. “You wish you did, Rory. You wish you did.”

“Yep. I have to keep in shape somehow.” He pats his stomach, which I know is perfectly cut.

“I’m not really a steak person.” I pause. Fuck. I didn’t even think about that. She bursts out a laugh. “I’m kidding. I love steak. The bloodier the better, please.” Oh, thank fuck. “A woman after my own heart,” I tell her, dropping some extra butter on top of each slab of meat.

But seeing Rory here, watching her read in that big leather chair or trying to reach something in the cabinet, I suddenly want to rip everything out and start over, build a place for me and for someone else too.

She still misses, and I laugh, which causes her to shoot daggers my way over her shoulder before turning back to the task at hand.

Her back is pressed against my front as she slowly lowers to her heels, her ass rolling over my cock, which has been straining against my jeans since I picked her up from her apartment earlier.

Hell, I feel like it’s been straining even longer than that, maybe since I first met her last year in the bar of The Sinclair hotel. All I know is that she’s under my fucking skin. I feel like I could burst at any second, and it’s taking everything I have not to.

She takes them from me, but I don’t let go. I can’t. If I let go, I’ll have to move, and if I move, I just might die if I’m not touching her anymore.

Rory actively presses her ass against me, and my cock eats up the attention. I eat it up too. I grip the counter, my arms caging her in.

Like how I want nothing more than to press my lips to her exposed neck. Grind my aching dick against her more. Sink to my knees and see just how sweet she tastes. But I do none of that.

No, I don’t because I want Rory to be the one to fold. I’ve already kissed her once. Now, she’s going to be the one to come to me. I’m one hell of an opponent in the face-off circle, and this is one draw I’m not going to lose.

She noticed I refilled her hot chocolate? She was so wrapped up in her book, she didn’t even budge each time I brought a fresh cup over. I guess she was paying more attention than I thought.

I’m in desperate need of another drink, but I’m too fucking scared to stand. There’s no way she’s not going to notice the bulge in my sweats.