Boyfriend Bargain by Ilsa Madden-Mills

30

Sugar

“Movie drinking games. Wahoo,” I say as I toss back the sip of tequila Z poured for me earlier. We’re standing in his kitchen, barely keeping our hands off each other as everyone—a few of his friends plus Taylor and Poppy—waits in the den. Tonight we’re mixing our worlds together, and we’re laughing about how interesting it’s going to be.

He grins and leads me back into the den. My eyes run over him, taking in the broad shoulders, long legs, and blond hair. He looks relaxed and I feel a burst of joy.

He turns and takes a sip of his water, watching me too, and I shiver as I think about the things we do to each other.

There’s no denying it—we have this whole when I see you, I want to get naked with you thing going on, and it’s intense and I’m giving in to all of it. I’ve never wanted a man this much. I’ve never given over so much control, and while a small kernel of me is scared, I don’t care. I’ve pushed my reservations aside for now and just…going with it.

Over the past weeks, February arrived and now it’s almost March, and he spends more time at my place than his. During the day we barely see each other because he runs, goes to class, goes to hockey, and then does more training. Toss in three days of therapy and he’s a busy guy. I’m still popping in at Mara’s in the mornings and grabbing an early night shift here and there tending bar.

But the late nights in my bed…

I’m his.

I own his darkness.

Tonight is Sunday, the guys are fresh from a win on the road, and I haven’t seen him since Friday when they left. My body is craving his.

“Get your drinks ready. Who’s ready for movie games?” Z says to the small group of people dotted around the den.

They all clap or shout.

Eric is on the couch with Eleanor, a cute girl with bouncy brown hair and a bright smile. Boone is here too, and he keeps giving Z awestruck looks. A pretty girl sits next to him, another freshman, but Boone’s all about his hero. Poppy is on his other side, and I see the heated side-eye she gives him, but I don’t think he notices. Taylor is sitting on a kitchen chair he pulled from the kitchen. Looking fabulous as usual in royal blue skinny jeans and a cream cashmere sweater that contrasts beautifully with his brown skin, he’s all about the man candy, eyes wide, a pleased look on his face as he talks to everyone. Brice, another hockey player, is kicked back in the recliner. I haven’t been around him much, but he’s familiar from the games I’ve been watching on TV.

I still haven’t made it to a home game, mostly because I’ve had to work or study. The closer it gets to law school—even though I technically don’t have one to go to yet—the more I’m pinching every penny. I’m not taking the inheritance from my father. Mara says I’m being stubborn, says I’m letting my pride get in the way, and maybe she’s right. I’d be the first to admit I’m a stubborn person, but when I think back to my childhood, all I see is him not wanting me. I don’t need his money to build a life. I don’t. I’ve been fine all these years without his help, so why start now?

“What’s the movie we’re drinking to?” Eric asks, bringing me back.

“Thor: Ragnarok, one of my favorites,” Z says. “As you may know, there’s a strong resemblance between us.”

“Boo, hiss.” Eric picks up a glass of vodka he poured earlier. “I’m the Viking here.” He pops up and does some air guitar. Completely random. Poppy’s eyes are wide as saucers. Taylor claps.

Z points at him. “For disagreeing with the game person, you must drink!”

“Bold words from someone who’s only drinking water,” Boone says with a grin.

Z slaps him on the back. “That’s so I can play the best hockey in the world.”

“You’re my Thor,” says Eleanor next to Eric, and he gives her a kiss on the cheek.

Z clears his throat. “Okay, here are the rules: we all have to drink when there’s a fight scene, something explodes, there’s a reference to another Marvel movie, Stan Lee pops up for a cameo, or Thor smiles like the sonofabitch he is. Got it?”

“Who determines the winner?” I ask, relaxing into the loveseat, leaving plenty of room for him to join me.

“We don’t usually have a winner, just bragging rights for whoever is able to keep up the longest,” says Eric. “But if you win, you get to pick the next movie.”

“Done!” I say. “Next time we should do a romantic comedy.”

Boone groans.

“Yes! You’ve Got Mail is my favorite! Next weekend,” Poppy says.

I smile. “My future boyfriend will love to watch those movies with me.”

“I’m your boyfriend,” Z quips. “No future about it.”

“I want to see Z watch a rom-com,” Eric says with a snort, and Boone spits his drink out.

Z leans over and kisses me square on the lips. “I’ll watch it with you.”

“Pussy-whipped,” Eric calls, and Z gives him a glare.

“Language, dude. We have ladies present.”

Eric stands and gives us a bow, apologizing very dramatically.

When Z gets up to dim the lights, Eric leans over and gives me a fist bump. “Nice to have you around, babe. I won’t say too much because your man is so jealous of me and my awesomeness he can barely stand it.”

“Stop whispering in my girl’s ear,” Z says, but there’s really no heat there. He plops down next to me and tosses an arm around my shoulders.

Eric holds his hands up. “All we talk about is you.”

“Uh-huh,” Z says. “I know how you work, pulling them in with all the banter and then you pounce.”

“Whatever.” Eric laughs. “But I’m glad to have you back at the house. Been missing your sorry face at night. Long John Silver has even been trying to sleep with me. Crazy cat.”

“I like Sugar’s company better.”

“I bet.” Eric waggles his eyes.

“Watch it,” Z says, his hand on my nape.

Eric leans his head back toward the back of the house where Reece’s bedroom is. “You’ve left me here alone with Reece and Veronica. Not fun.”

“He’ll figure her out soon,” Z says, his expression hardening.

I think back to earlier when Reece and Veronica came in, mumbled brief hellos, and headed to his bedroom. I guess they’ll end up at the Kappa party later, but Z and these guys aren’t going. Those parties create anxiety for Z, and it’s one of the things he’s eliminated.

I don’t want him to eliminate his brother, though. I’m worried about it, trying to put my finger on where it stems from, besides Veronica. It’s deeper than that. At least she’s avoiding me. After the flower incident, Z told her not to ever speak to me or she’d never be welcome at his house again.

Later, after much giggling and fun, the movie ends, and it’s still early enough that we decide to crank up the music and dance. Boone pulls out his phone, hooks it up to Z’s speakers, and Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” throbs in the room. Not exactly a great dance song, so they try to lip sync instead.

Z and I sit on the loveseat and watch our friends. I lean my head on his shoulder and he pulls me closer.

“They’d make a pretty good cover band,” he says.

“Taylor would be an awesome Freddy Mercury.” The guy in question preens as he struts across the room.

Z leans down and kisses me for several moments, his lips soft and sweet. After a while, he pulls back and pushes a strand of hair out of my face, his forehead against mine. “Boone and Poppy disappeared, by the way.”

“What? They were just here,” I say, looking around the room.

“I caught them leaving out of the corner of my eye.”

Sure enough, neither of them are anywhere to be found, leaving Taylor, Eric, Eleanor, the other girl, and Brice dancing. “Where did they go?”

Z grins. “Bathroom, I think. Maybe the garage.” He gives me a smirk. “It’s a great spot.” His fingers slip under the shoulder of the red sweater I’m wearing, toying with my bra strap. “We can sneak off too.”

He bites that lower lip, and I feel myself melting.

“What do you have in mind?”

“You on your stomach with me behind you,” he whispers in my ear, the scruff from his beard sliding deliciously against my neck.

“What else?”

“I’ll take you real slow at first, but your pussy is so sweet and wet and I’ll want you hard. I’ll want to tie your hands to the bedposts and push your legs together when I fuck you.” His grey eyes find mine, smoky with heat.

Hell yeah.I stand up, legs shaky. “I’m ready when you are.”

He stands and laces our hands together then we walk out of the room, leaving them to their party.

In his room, he pulls my hair out of its ponytail and arranges it over my shoulders. Moving excruciatingly slow, he slips my sweater over my head and drops it. His gaze darkens, tracing the lines of my pale pink lace bra. His fingers turn me around and I feel the heat of his gaze on my back.

“Is it irrational that every time I see this, I’m pissed at the guy who saw your bare back to give you this tattoo?” he says as his lips brush my shoulder.

“No.” I love how greedy he is for me.

His kisses are soft and achingly tender as he rubs my shoulders, his hands caressing as he touches my chest from behind, not quite in the places I want him, but just enough to keep me squirming. He removes my bra and cups my breasts, making me gasp. I’m pushing at my leggings and underwear and kicking them across the room.

He chuckles at my rush and leads me over to the bed. “Lie on your stomach.”

I do, keeping my head turned so I can see him undress. He watches me watch him, his movements languid and slow as he takes his shirt off. I bite my lip at the sculpted muscles there, the rock-hard abs that lead down to the deep V at his hips. He unzips his pants and pushes them down.

Stalking toward me, he passes by his nightstand and clicks the light off, and for a second, I see a flash of something desolate on his features as he looks at the piece of furniture. Then he blinks and shuts it down.

“Z? You okay?” I prop myself up on my arms.

He gets in next to me on the bed, and my hands take his face, soothing the lines there. He sighs. “Yeah. Just…sometimes…I don’t know.” His grey eyes search mine as if he wants to say more, wants to tell me something.

Instead he kisses me and moves behind me until I’m forgetting that lost look on his face. I’m a limp mess by the time he’s massaged his way to my arms and fingers, giving the most finite attention to each body part.

“Do you have any idea how lovely you are?” he says, and something in his voice gets to me. I toss my head back and look at him, and I don’t think he meant for me to do so because there’s a scared expression on his face.

“What is it?” I turn around more.

He swallows, his throat bobbing. A long breath is released from his chest. “Nothing.”

I turn and crawl to him and kiss him. His arms come around me and hold me tight, so tight, and we kiss until I can’t think, until that expression I saw on his face is gone. Soon, his hands are pushing me down to my stomach and he’s tying me up and I’m breathing hard, waiting for him to make me his…

And that’s all we know for a long time.

* * *

It’shours later when something wakes me up.

My eyes open and blink around the room, getting my bearings as I try to figure out what happened. It’s still dark outside, but my body feels as if it must be close to dawn.

There’s a groan next to me where Z is flailing around on the bed, his legs jerking. Loud bellows come from him, and I give him a gentle shake.

“Z, you’re having a bad dream.” I keep my voice low, not wanting to startle him, but he doesn’t hear me. My hand touches his shoulder. “Z…wake up.”

He flinches, his eyes shooting open wide as he jumps straight out of bed and blinks rapidly.

“It’s me,” I say, getting up and putting my feet on the floor. Feeling around in the dim light, I grab my glasses that I set on a chair next to the bed last night. I see one of his HU T-shirts and my underwear so I snatch those up and slide them on too.

He just stands there, looking dazed, his chest heaving.

“You’re shaking,” I say as I walk over and click the lamp that’s on his nightstand.

He blinks at the light.

Fear pricks at me when I see the pain on his face.

“Bad dream?” I ask. Willow? is the question on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t bring her up. We’ve spoken about his nightmares, but he’s never had one with me. I have a morbid curiosity about them, but mostly, I haven’t asked. He keeps things to himself, and I trust he’ll tell me everything eventually.

He seems to come to, his eyes focusing as he looks at his phone. “It’s four.”

“That’s super early. Let’s go back to bed.”

An agonized expression crosses his face. “I can’t. Once I’m awake…it won’t get out of my head…” He stops and rubs his jaw.

I sigh, nodding. I pad into the kitchen and head to the sink, fill a glass with water, and take it back to him. He’s sitting on the bed when I return, his head bowed in his hands.

I put the cup in his hands and he blinks at it, as if he forgot I was here, and then he takes a sip and puts it down on the nightstand.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” With a heavy breath, he stands and snatches up last night’s clothes. He puts them in a hamper then goes to his dresser, picking out new clothes. “I’m getting out of here for a while.”

“Where?”

“For a run.” He pulls on a long-sleeved black running shirt and athletic pants.

“The sun isn’t even up.” I know he runs early, but I’m here today and that hasn’t happened before.

“I’ll wear a reflective vest.” He pulls on socks and then shoes, tying the laces harshly. “It clears my head.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” I mean, I can’t skate worth shit, but I can run, and for some reason, I don’t want him to be alone. “I have some clothes and shoes in my car that might work, and if you give me a jacket—”

“No,” is his swift reply. He pauses and brushes his eyes over me. “Look, I’m sorry to leave you, but I want to be alone. You can stay as long as you like. At least your truck is here.”

My fingers pluck at the edge of his shirt, which falls to mid-thigh. “When are you coming back?”

He grabs a knit hat from a dresser drawer. “Later. I’ll probably head straight to the gym and get in a workout and shower. Then I have class, and then…” He stops and stares at me, a frown on his face. “It’s getting to be crunch time with our games, Sugar. I’ve got to keep up the work and keep everything cool. No stress. Feel me?”

I frown. He likes to do things a certain way because it helps him feel more focused. Still, I’m left winded by his easiness at leaving me, especially since I didn’t see him all weekend.

I feel a prick of fear.

Something awful and terrible feels right around the corner, but I just don’t know what it is.

“Sure.”

Then he’s brushing his lips against mine and he’s out the door, closing it behind him. I hear him going out the front of the house, and I plop down back on the bed. “He didn’t even say bye,” I tell Long John Silver when she jumps up beside me. She hisses, stalks off, and claws at the door until I reopen it and let her out.

I mumble under my breath as I dig around on the floor for my pants. There’s no way I can go back to sleep, and maybe I need my own space.

After going to his bathroom to fix my hair, I shove my arms in my coat and walk out of his door. I turn the corner to the kitchen and see Reece sitting at the table in a pair of leopard print underwear. His face is…weird…and I don’t think he sees me, so I clear my throat.

“Don’t mind me. On my way out,” I say politely.

He jerks his face toward me in the hallway and flinches when our eyes meet. “He woke me up.”

“He went for a run,” I say, stopping in front of him.

I see an expression on his face, perhaps pity. He shakes his head as if clearing it and narrows his gaze at me. “Do you know where he runs after a nightmare?”

I do, sort of, but I keep my mouth shut. Z likes his privacy.

His gaze is unwavering. “He goes to see where she’s buried.”

My nose flares.

“You should ask him more questions, you know.”

“Like what?” I stand there, waiting, feeling that trickle of foreboding inch up my spine.

“Have you ever seen a photo of Willow?”

“No.”

“She was beautiful.”

He plays with the HU Lions salt and pepper shaker set on the table, his eyes staring out the bay window next to the table. “I was in love with her, you know. Sometimes I thought it was reciprocated, but you could never tell with her. She’d string me along when she and Z would fight, and I always held out hope…” He stops and grimaces. “She kissed me the night she died, but it was a pissed-off, getting back at Z thing. My lips were the last ones to touch hers.” He stares down at the table, the salt shaker in his grip. “She was going to have his baby, but I would have done anything to have her as mine.”

I blink, struggling to keep up. Does Z know all this? Is this why they aren’t close?

“You’re nothinglike her,” he grinds out. “I mean, sure you—”

He stops, his lids closing.

My heart drops. I keep my mouth shut and wait. Just wait.

“I hear him thrashing around in there, reliving that night. He…I…we saw her on the rocks. She was thrown from her car.”

Dread gathers within me and questions teeter on my lips, but I know this isn’t an appropriate time. “I’m sorry.” No other words are adequate. None. “Maybe you should talk to Z.”

He flinches, his eyes coming back to me. Anger colors his face as he takes me in and opens his mouth to say something but then presses his lips together.

“What?”

He glares at me. “I wish you would go away. You remind me of…everything.”

His words are like bullets and my chest clenches, trying to make sense of them. I tug my coat around me, feeling cold even in this warm house. I shake my head, not knowing how to respond. He’s grieving, obviously still working through something, and I can’t argue with that right now.

I walk past him to the front door and open it. A sharp, crashing sound breaks the silence as I shut the door. The salt shaker, presumably.