Power Play: The Nashville Assassins: Next Generation Read online

  No one knows I’m being finger-blasted by Boon, and I don’t know why, but that excites me even more.

  “Anyone could catch us,” he whispers, his head dropping down closer to mine. “And I don’t care. I want to drop between your knees and suck your pussy dry.”

  “Oh God,” I mutter, my mouth dry.

  “Oh, he can’t help you, lovely. You’re all mine.”

  Yup, I’m done for.

  I feel my body tighten up, and when I shatter, everything goes white.

  “That’s right, baby. Come all over me.”

  He curves his fingers up into my pussy, pressing his thumb against my clit in the most unbelievable way. To keep from screaming, I squeeze the shit out of my tablet, and I gasp in a breath. I bring the tablet up, slapping my face with it, but I’m so far gone, I don’t care. My heart is pounding in my chest, and when I open my eyes, I drop the tablet into my lap and find he’s watching me with this primal look in his eyes. “You are incredible.”

  “Honey, is everything okay?”

  I glance up to where my mom is looking back at us. “You sound mad. Do you need my help?”

  Oh God, please no! “No, he’s getting it.”

  His lips curve. “You’re fucking right, I am.”

  I give him a dark look as he removes his hand from my pussy. When he brings his fingers to his lips, his eyes on me and a sinister grin on his face, I find I’m holding my breath. He opens his mouth, inserting his fingers into it, and just like that, he sucks his fingers clean.

  I think I come again.

  “Damn, you taste good.”

  I swallow hard. “I want to kiss you so bad.”

  He nods and then squeezes my knee. “Yup, but I have to go clean up.”

  Immediately, I feel guilty. Did I get something on him? Was I drooling? “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I wanted to come with you.”

  My jaw falls open a bit when I realize what he means. I made him come, and I didn’t even touch him. Never in my life have I experienced something so hot. I want more. I can’t help it; I yearn for it. As I watch him get up and head to the bathroom, I know this is going to be a long road trip.

  But hopefully one filled with little sneaky hookups like what just happened.

  I get up and somehow make it back to my seat. I fall back into the chair and cover up with my blanket, a foolish grin on my face. When I notice my phone is blinking with a text message, I pick it up.

  Boon: You now owe me two pairs of boxers.

  Me: What? Two?

  Boon: Yes, I just threw a pair away, and the pair you wore home. Two.

  Me: Fine, but you owe me for the pair of my panties you ripped.

  Boon: It’s a date—underwear shopping.

  Me: We’ll need to buy cheap ones, though.

  Boon: Well, of course. I plan to do more ripping.

  Me: And I’ll need to borrow more of yours, and I’ll more than likely have you coming in your pants again.

  Boon: I don’t doubt it, but only if you’re coming with me.

  Me: Done.

  Boon: You know, I have to say, you’re the first girl to make me come in my pants. You should get a trophy for that.

  Me: My parents will be so proud.

  Boon: LOL. Damn, lovely, I can’t get enough of you.

  As I read his text over and over again, I find myself feeling powerful, and I love it.

  But most of all, I love that Boon makes me feel like that.

  Chapter Twenty

  Boon

  I thought with Posey coming on the road trip, I wouldn’t miss her since she is traveling with us. I knew we couldn’t be together, together, but we’d still get to interact. I’d get to admire her beautiful face and touch her when no one was looking. I figured I would sneak into her room at night and we’d hook up. When we’d go to dinner with the team, I could sit by her and enjoy her company. I’m finding, though, on day ten of this road trip, all that wishful thinking was a load of bull hockey.

  I am dying.

  I now wish she weren’t my coach and was at home missing me like I’m missing her—and she’s only two feet away from me. We can’t hook up at night because her room is on the floor with the other coaches and connected to her mom’s room. When we go to dinner, she has to sit with the coaches. We all joke and talk, but she can’t talk to me on a personal level. When we’re on the ice, it’s Coach Adler and Hoenes. There is mild flirting but not much since our practices are so intense and condensed. It isn’t like when we’re at home and we’ve got time. No, we’re practicing to fix things, and we don’t have time to play around. I swear I can hear her yelling, “No nonsense!” in the wee hours of the morning when I want her more than I want to sleep. It’s been torture.

  It’s infuriating. It’s as if God has her on a string, and he’s dangling her above me to taunt me. I can almost touch her, but nope. That damn fisherman from the State Farm commercial is there, pulling her away, saying, “Oh, you almost had it.” But I don’t almost have it. I don’t have anything, and I miss Posey. I miss her so much. I just want to sit in a room with her and talk. We haven’t talked face-to-face since the plane ride. Yeah, she goes over plays, but it’s not the same. I want my Posey.

  I want all of her.

  I’m just so proud of her.

  Her plays have been kicking some major ass. We’ve scored five times out of the seven power plays we’ve gone on. It’s been awesome. I even scored a goal after a gutsy dive that earned me a cut on my chin, but the puck went into the back of the net, so all is well. We’ve won all our games but one, and in all reality, we should have won that one too. But we got on the scoreboard quick, were winning two periods, all laid-back. Then boom, they scored and beat us in the third period. Oh, the ass-chewing from Coach was insane. We have one more game, and then we head home. I can’t wait. I’m ready for my bed and for Posey to be in it.

  Naked.

  Wearing only a smile.

  Two days, and then we’ll be home.

  Across the table, Posey is looking prettier than ever. She’s fully annoyed since she’s had to stay dressed up the whole trip. She hates doing her hair and makeup. And while I love to stare at her either way, I wish I could do it freely. Tonight, though, in the lights of the patio, she looks like an angel. She’s wearing a long-sleeved white dress that hugs her body to her knees. She has on royal-blue shoes that Shelli has informed her about four times now, if she damages, she dies. Her hair is down, wavy in a sorta messy but sexy style. She’s applied her regular dark makeup, and she looks good enough to eat. Way better than this porterhouse I have.

  I lean on my hand, watching her as she laughs, and honestly, I’m at the point where I don’t care if I get called out for it. I love the way her eyes sparkle in the lights. We’ve only been able to FaceTime, and it isn’t enough. I need more. I need to be able to touch her, kiss her between sentences. Like, right now, I want to reach across the table and grab her face, lick her lips, and then kiss them. Damn it, I miss her, which is insane since she’s right across the table from me.

  “So, I’m skating back, my dad coming toward me to show me how to block. I went to do a simple poke check, but somehow, instead of pushing the puck away, I got him right in his balls. And boom, he’s on the ice. He said he would never be able to father children again, but then Quinnie came, so I feel he was being dramatic,” Posey says, laughing. She’s captivating. Everyone around her laughs, and I’m jealous they get to interact with her.

  “You’re staring,” Wes says in my ear, and I nod as I look back at him.

  Before I can answer him, though, Shelli leans into Aiden. Since they are out in the open, she gets to be with him. She comes to dinner with us, out drinking with us, and they even get to go on dates. No one questions anything. No one. I am green with envy, and I don’t even care. I swallow as Shelli leans on her hand. “I am thinking a pink bow tie for you and a gray one for Wes.”

  She also only talks about the wedding. It’s mind-nu
mbing. “Yay.”

  Shelli grins. “It’s gonna be a great time.”

  I nod. “Do I have a page?”

  She cocks her head. “What?”

  “Do I have a page in your book?”

  Aiden’s eyes widen. “Don’t bring that thing up!”

  “Shut up, Aiden,” she snaps, smacking him. She eyes me then. “How did you know about the book and its pages?”

  “I saw you showing it to Coach Adler when we were flying out to Vegas. I was just wondering what picture of me you used on the models.”

  Wes perks up. “Wait, I get to pick what model I am? Can you put me on Liam Hemsworth’s body? I am man enough to say that dude has a nice body.”

  I blink. “We don’t admit those things, dude.”

  “Shit, I do. Gets all the girls. Then they start thinking threesomes with me and Mr. Liam. It’d be hot.”

  We all sputter with laughter, but I find myself looking over to where Posey sits. She’s watching me, and I don’t know, but I feel like she wants to be with us. Or maybe I just really want her. I reach into my pocket, bringing out my phone. I text her just as she reaches for her phone. We’re basically pros at texting each other now.

  Me: I wish you were down here with us.

  Posey: Me too. Does Wes really want Liam Hemsworth?

  Me: Probably. He’s weird.

  Posey: That’s funny, though.

  Me: A little funny. What are you guys talking about?

  Posey: 401ks. I have to get mine started when I get back.

  Me: I’m bored for you.

  Posey: I appreciate it. I think I’ve aged ten years.

  Me: Well, you’re insanely hot tonight.

  Posey: Even ten years older? That means I’m older than you.

  Me: Mm. Be my cougar, baby.

  When I look over at her, she’s grinning, puckering her lips at me. She is really lucky there’s a table between us, our careers are important, and it’s frowned upon to put her on my plate and eat her.

  She pushes back her chair, tucking her napkin under her plate. “Excuse me.”

  Mrs. Adler looks up at her, concerned. “You okay?”

  She nods. “Yes, Mom. I’m fine.”

  Yeah, she is.

  I watch as she walks away, but before I can excuse myself, I look over to find Shelli watching me. She perks a brow, and I perk one back. “Yes?”

  She leans in. “Are you staring at my sister?”

  I scoff. “No, I was looking at the bar. I’m thirsty.”

  She eyes me suspiciously. “I don’t believe you. Aiden,” she says, leaning into him. And he, of course, almost gobbles her up in his arms. Lucky bastard. “Does Boon like Posey?”

  Aiden looks at me, and while he doesn’t know shit and my next thought has nothing to do with the situation, I can’t help but wish he’d get a haircut. He looks like a damn hippie with his hair in that bun. “I don’t know. He hasn’t mentioned anything to me, but I’m not his best friend like Wes is.”

  Now all eyes fall on Wes. But my best friend is a strong dude. He likes dudes like Liam Hemsworth, for goodness’ sake. Wes shrugs. “Don’t think so. I think he might be gay.”

  This asshole.

  “Hey, if you are, I support you,” Aiden laughs.

  I hold my hand up to Aiden. “Please, keep your rainbow tape in the bag. I’m not gay.”

  They all laugh.

  Well, Shelli doesn’t. Her bright-blue eyes are on me, intent and intrusive. “I think you do like her.”

  I shrug. I won’t confirm or deny. I don’t want it getting back to Posey that I said no. That would cause issues. Instead, I’ll stay silent.

  Shelli’s eyes are full of mischief. “It would be okay if you did. I get it. She’s beautiful, hella smart, and a genius on the ice. I don’t know how she hasn’t been scooped up yet.”

  “Wait, is she available?” I glance over at Colton, one of our forwards, and glare. I want to scream Fuck no, but I press my lips together. “I always catch her looking at me with these intense, sexy eyes on the plane.”

  This idiot—he sits in front of me! She’s looking at me.

  My best friend pipes up, “No, dude. She’s looking at me. She’s in love with me.”

  Why do I call this man my best friend? I gawk at him, and he shrugs as if he’s saying, “What? I’m deflecting.”

  “Okay, I’m out on that one,” I say, getting up. “I need to piss and get a drink.”

  “Grab me a beer,” Wes says, and I set him with a look.

  “To bash you over the head with?”

  He grins. “I love when you get rough, Daddy.”

  More laughter follows, but I feel Shelli watching me. I ignore her and head inside. I don’t have to go far before I find Posey, leaning on the bar. She’s swirling her finger along the condensation on the side of a glass of water, and I’m confused. Why’s she over here? I step up beside her—not close enough to give away that I want her, but close enough that I can smell her sweet, floral perfume. I lean on my elbows, and she smiles over at me. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I say, and when I make sure no one is around, I bend down, pressing my lips to hers. She leans into the kiss, cupping my jaw and sending me into overdrive. I pull back before I’m unable to and look her over. She looks a little pale. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just feeling run-down.”

  “Go to bed.”

  “I might,” she says, letting out a long sigh. “My mom is driving me up the wall about it. I might skip out. I haven’t even eaten.”

  “Maybe you should?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. I think I’m coming down with something.”

  “Have you talked to the trainers?”

  “Yeah, Ryan, my cousin, looked me over—”

  “Wait? Ryan is your cousin?”

  She grins. “Yes.”

  “Jesus, your family is huge and really intertwined with this team.”

  “Yeah, it’s all family here,” she laughs. “But he said I’m fine on paper. If I don’t feel better by the time we get back, I’ll go to the doctor.”

  “Okay, please do.”

  Her lips tip up a bit. “Worried about me?”

  “Greatly,” I admit, running my pinkie along her arm. “I must say how pretty you are tonight.”

  A sweet blush fills her face. “You’re too good to me, Boon.”

  “Always.”

  Her eyes darken as she leans on her hand. She looks so tired. It is her first trip, and maybe it’s too much for her. I know she doesn’t like the hotel beds. They freak her out, and she even slept on the couch until I told her bed bugs can live there too. I’m pretty sure this is my fault. “I’ve got an idea.”

  “Ooh, a naked one?” she asks with a wink, and I grin. I’m learning she’s rather bold when it comes to sex, and I absolutely love it. I love a woman who tells me what she wants. Usually females are embarrassed by the fact that they want to come. Not Posey. She’ll be the first one to climb on my face and ride it to get off.

  Shit. Now I’m hard, and I forgot my idea.

  “Focus, Boon.”

  I grin. “We should go to a spa when we get back. A mud bath and relax and shit. I bet this was a long trip, took a lot out of you.”

  She nods. “Maybe. My mom thinks my meds need to be adjusted. I’m coming up on a year since they’ve been changed.”

  “Huh?”

  She pats her fingers to her throat. “Thyroid, remember?”

  “Oh! Yeah, my bad,” I say, and then my worry from before turns to full-blown anxiety. “You’re okay, though?”

  She touches her pinkie to mine, our eyes locking. “I promise, I’m fine.”

  “You’d tell me?”

  “You’re the first one I’d tell.”

  I exhale heavily. “Okay.”

  “Also, speaking of telling someone first,” she starts before licking her lips. “I think I want to move out of my parents’ house. Will you help me find a place?”

  �
�Yes. My house.”

  She snorts. “Boon…”

  “I have a room. I’ll even bust out a wall so I can get to you easier.”

  “No privacy, huh?”

  I wave her off. “Privacy, srivacy. Who needs it?”

  She sets me with a look. Not an upset or annoyed one, but a “Come on. Someone has to be rational here.” expression. “Really, Boon? We’re like two weeks in. We are nowhere near ready to move in together,” she informs me. She’s probably right.

  For me, it feels like I’ve been with her forever. We talk constantly, and the stolen kisses and sneaky touches are perfection. I haven’t slept with her in a hundred days, and I still want to talk to her. That has to mean something. I like the thought of rolling over and her being in my arms in two seconds, though. It would be amazing—pulling her into my arms, kissing her, and falling completely into her.

  “Doesn’t it—” I stop myself, and she tilts her head to the side. “Never mind.”

  “No, what?”

  “No. I’m not saying that. For some reason, I get explosive diarrhea of the mouth when it comes to you.”

  She sputters with laughter. “That’s mighty graphic.”

  “You make me mighty stupid.”

  She beams. “Not stupid. Cute.”

  “Ha, whatever,” I say, still feeling stupid.

  “Were you going to ask me if it really feels like we’ve only been together for two weeks? That it feels like longer?”

  I meet her gaze, my heart skipping a beat. “Exactly that.”

  “I do. It does. But you’ve come off a bad relationship, and I was infatuated with a guy who didn’t even care if I stubbed my toe. I don’t want to rush this and get to the finish line yet. I want to enjoy the run, enjoy us, if that makes sense.”

  I hold her gaze. She’s right, but I’d run over that finish line with her and with my arms in the air because I won the ultimate prize.