Hothead by Stella Rhys

15

EVIE

So, move-in was a total disaster.

And he wasn’t even home yet.

But within the first two hours of arriving, I’d broken the fridge, tripped up the alarm and failed to tell the alarm company the right password when they called, so the police wound up coming. They took one look at me in my panicked state, wearing twelve-dollar bottled kale juice from the fridge that I’d spilled down my shirt when the alarm sounded, and laughed their asses off for a solid minute.

And for some reason, as they laughed, I thought it an appropriate time to ask whether they knew what the heck I’d just done to the refrigerator, and why was it beeping like that? Was it broken?

“I’ve never seen a fridge like that, that looks like a time machine,” the lady said.

“You might want to fix it before Mr. Maddox gets home,” her partner chuckled. “I don’t think he needs anything else to deal with after tonight’s game.”

Shit.

“Why? What happened?” I asked before they basically laughed some more, reminded me to get the password for the alarm company, and left.

A quick search of “Empires score” on my laptop showed me that they lost tonight, 17-4. Holy God. I didn’t know much about baseball, but I knew that was bad. MADDOX STUMBLES IN DISASTROUS FIFTH INNING was the only headline I saw before clicking the hell out.

Of course, clicking out brought me to my open Facebook tab, and a reminder that I should probably unfriend Mike.

He rarely posted anything unrelated to work, but twenty minutes ago he’d posted a status that read: Baltimore SPANKED NY tonight! There goes your big win streak Empires #sorrynotsorry #someoneisoverpaid #damyoureallyblewit

“Seriously?” I hissed at my screen because one, he wasn’t even a Baltimore fan and two, his stupid passive aggressive hashtags were clearly directed at Drew and three, he spelled the word “damn” wrong.

What an ass.

I was still frazzled and wearing kale juice when I typed a dirty, bitchy, completely inappropriate reply to his post that I really, really wished I had the nerve to actually post.

Just do it. He deserves it. Hit enter, the devil on my shoulder urged me wickedly the second Iain finally texted me back.

“Thank God,” I exhaled, but then I read his text.

IAIN:Unfortunately I don’t know the answers to any of these questions but I’m sure the fridge is fine and the alarm company will understand. Just breathe and remember the password in case there’s a next time. I let Drew know to come home early to address any further issues you might have.

“No! No, no, no, no!” I yelled at my phone, typing back a dozen different replies and settling on none to actually send because it was probably inappropriate to ask Iain what he was thinking texting Drew when I texted him specifically to avoid talking to Drew. I already felt dumb for caving and texting him about our new rule today, and even dumber since he didn’t respond, so the last thing I needed was for him to be informed that I “needed” him home.

Ugh.

I wasn’t even unpacked yet.

Dragging my feet upstairs, I went into the guest room where I’d left my bags and pulled out something clean to change into. I was in the middle of yanking my top on when I heard the elevator humming up to the entrance of the penthouse downstairs.

Drew was home.

I ran out of my room eagerly before realizing that I wasn’t sure if I was even eager to see him. We hadn’t spoken since that bizarre and incredibly hot night that almost felt like a dream at this point, and he was no doubt in a crappy mood over tonight’s epic loss.

On top of that, Iain had texted him something about me and all the stupid issues I’d been having in his home, which I now realized were pretty trivial, and the last thing Drew needed to deal with. So I felt kind of bad about that.

And I felt even worse when midway down the steps, the elevator doors opened and Drew’s eyes were pinned immediately on me.

“Hi,” I breathed out, freezing in place as I took in the sight of him looking hard, steely and hotter than I was comfortable with in a white crew neck and grey sweats.

God, that body.

He said nothing to me, instead striding silently into the kitchen and tossing his wallet onto the counter. He eyed the still-beeping fridge and conveyed the utter lack of emergency it presented by taking a swig from his water bottle and returning a few texts before walking over to it. Then with a look at me, he hit some button that I swore I’d hit ten times to try and shut it up, and the damned thing stopped beeping.

At that point, I pretty much wanted to turn on my heel and go back upstairs, but I forced myself to at least attempt to break our three-day silence before going to bed. He was clearly a seasoned pro at intimidating others, but if I was going to be living under the same roof as Drew Maddox, I refused to be scared of him.

I watched him pay attention to everything but me as I joined him in the kitchen. I thought about what Aly had said the other day, what I’d texted him today, and nodded silently to myself.

Yeah. Definitely. No fucking this moody prick. Now, soon or ever, I resolved as I drew in a deep, inaudible breath and worked up the nerve to break the silence.

“So. Have you eaten yet?”

It was all I had in my arsenal since “how was the game” was out of the question. Plus, it had always been my daily greeting to Mike after I got home from work. It helped me figure out whether I needed to take care of him or whether or not I could go shower and do my own thing.

I rested my palms on the countertop to convey casual calm, but my toes were tapping away in my slippers as I waited for Drew to respond to my question. He took his sweet time, opening the door of the freezer and taking out what looked like an ice pack before finally speaking.

“Password for the alarm is Christopher,” he said coldly. “Memorize it.”

Okay. I see how it is.

This was probably how he started the ice-out Aly was talking about, but I wasn’t having it.

“Who’s Christopher?” I dared to ask, earning myself a look from Drew as he made his way over to the living room.

“No one you’ll ever meet, so don’t worry about it.”

God.

I rolled my head back and shared a can you believe this guy look with the ceiling, because I had no one else to gripe to. Still, I wasn’t letting him break me. I was going to remain unflappably civil and find a way for us to leave off on a decent note before going upstairs. This was where I was sleeping for the next three months, and I wasn’t about to let it become a toxic environment. I was too old for that shit.

“Look, Drew, I know you had a rough night,” I started as I trailed him to the living room. “But I just wanted to say that before all the fridge and alarm drama happened, when I first walked in here, I realized just how grateful I was to be out of that apartment and living in this city,” I said, stopping him in front of the couch. “And since I still have energy and you’re probably wiped right now, I’d be happy to do something for you to make your night easier. I can cook something, I can run to the store. I saw a twenty-four hour place around the corner. If you need something, you can let me know.”

Drew hit me with another look.

“I’m not your ex, Evie. I don’t need to be coddled.”

“I wasn’t implying that, Drew,” I said, trying to be patient. “I was just trying to do something nice for you.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re living together now. We can’t just ignore each other. We have to try to strike a balance together.”

“Strike a balance?” He was about to sit down but apparently something I said piqued his interest. “You mean between being strangers and people who fuck in the back of cars?”

I swallowed the instant knot in my throat. This was his first mention of what happened the other night since it happened, and it took a second for me to gather myself.

“Yes,” I finally said. “Although…” I had to work up the nerve to go on. “I think we both know we didn’t… fuck. And that we definitely shouldn’t. We should keep it simple between us from now on. Civil to friendly at home. Romantic in public. No sexual touching of any kind. Right?”

It seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to say considering it was exactly what was stated in our contract, but when I looked up at Drew, there was a hint of a sneer on his lips.

“Right,” he said, though with a mocking undertone.

“I mean if we’ve known each other for two weeks, Drew. I think it’s possible for us to dial things back to a happy medium,” I said in a positive tone, despite my absolutely pounding heart. “If not, we’re just giving up on the contract, and I know neither of us wants to do that now. Right?”

“Right.” His eyes burned into mine, his lips barely moving as he said it.

Relax. Breathe. Be positive.

“Okay. So,” I exhaled, trying to reset. “Is there anything I can do for you now before I go upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Drew muttered.

Then without warning, he reached up behind his head, gripped his back collar and peeled his shirt clean off his torso.

Whaaat.

The. Fuck.

Is happening.

I didn’t even try to avoid staring. I straight up let him watch as I checked out his unbelievably wide, hard pecs and those perfectly chiseled abs. And those tattoos. God. They were hot enough peeking out from under the sleeves of his shirt but with him completely undressed, they were that much sexier. They punctuated the raw masculinity that was his ripped, hard body, and it was physically impossible not to imagine what that body was capable of beyond athletics.

Ah-ah, Evie. No more touching his penis, no more touching his penis, no more touching his penis, I reminded myself of Aly’s rule as I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth, taking a second to find my words again.

“Is… there a reason you’re stripping?” I finally asked, watching the lines of his six-pack deepen as he leaned forward to grab the ice pack off the table.

“You asked what you could do for me,” Drew started tersely, forcing my eyes on his biceps as he reached across his chest and pressed the ice pack to the back of his shoulder. “And what you can do is rewind this night back a few hours so I’m still at the stadium instead of skipping my post-game massage to tend to your ridiculous non-emergencies.”

I clenched my jaw, annoyed with my own lack of a response for that. I wanted to blame Iain, but that was immature so I simply held my tongue as I watched Drew sink into his seat on the couch, stretching his neck and wincing with pain as he took care of his soreness.

Still holding an ice pack to his shoulder, he used his free hand to work the muscles on his legs, digging the heel of his palm down his hamstrings, along his calves. I eyed his hand. Bruised knuckles. Taped fingers. He was basically hurting all over.

Geez.

“Look, I can do that for you,” I blurted without thinking.

The out-of-the-blue weirdness of my offer was confirmed by the odd look Drew gave me.

He kept his eyes on me for several seconds, still massaging himself before asking, “What?”

“Massage you,” I said, my cheeks burning because it sounded so damned sensual even when I didn’t mean it that way. “Not in a weird way or anything,” I added, making the situation a hundred times more awkward. Come on, Evie. You already said it. Just own it. “It’s just I’m known among my group of friends as the go-to girl for this. I got good at massage therapy growing up because my sister… had these aches,” I said hastily, trying to skip over the mention of Kaylie. “So anyway, I know how to handle muscle pain. It’s just an offer, Drew.”

He stared up at me, his lips curling into a sneer.

“Could’ve sworn you just made a new rule about how we touch each other behind closed doors.”

“Massages don’t have to be sexual. I just told you I gave massages to my sister, for God’s sake, and you get rubbed down every day by presumably a dude you’re not sexually attracted to, so.” I shrugged, smiling a bit because the huff of air he let out sounded something like laughter. “I don’t know, Drew, I’m just trying to be nice. I’m trying to help.”

“Fine. Then do it.”

I blinked in surprise.

“Fine,” I said, just to disguise my own uneasiness.

Really though, Evie. What were you thinking?

It seemed like an obvious thing to me at the time. He was hurting. I was good at this. I wanted to make up for the mess that was tonight.

But I could feel my heart beating out of control as I prepared to kneel in front of Drew’s wide-parted legs. There was no smile on his face but I read the look of amusement in his eyes as I stood over him, trying to figure out if there was a less sexual position I could do this in.

Of course, the answer was no.

So after about twelve seconds of hesitation, I got on my knees. Before I could even let myself process how much it looked like I was about to blow him, I held his ankle with one hand. With my other hand, I cupped the back of his calf, applying pressure as I pushed my thumb up the line of where his bone and muscle came together.

He groaned in such pain I snapped my hands back.

“That hurt?” I asked apologetically. He blew out a long breath.

“Yes, but it felt good.”

I bit my lip, taking a second to shake off the throaty breathlessness of his voice.

“I should keep going?”

“Yes.”

So I did, keeping track of his every twitch and groan to get a better understanding of what felt good or not. I put all my focus on those powerfully muscled legs, looking at nothing else but my own hands because I knew Drew was watching me.

His attention was rapt on me, and it felt like he was trying to figure me out. I wasn’t just good at massages – I was fucking stellar. A “miracle worker” according to Aly, Mike, Hillary and a dozen other friends who’d experienced my back rubs.

No one would expect this kind of strength from my slender hands. I knew that, and I knew Drew was getting reluctantly curious about me. I could feel him wanting to know where this skill came from without having to ask, but after another few minutes of silence, he caved.

“Why are you so good at this?” It was slightly more accusation than compliment.

“I told you. My sister.”

“Why did she have aches?”

“I don’t know. She just had… bad legs.”

“Was she elderly, this sister of yours?”

I looked up at him and narrowed my eyes.

“She was sick,” I said curtly. “Also, I know you love giving me a hard time, but people have real feelings and real sore spots, and maybe you should just read the room sometimes and recognize when you shouldn’t ask any more questions. You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to talk about certain topics.”

I didn’t look up to see his reaction, and it was silent for another few minutes.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I replied, though only because the mention of my sister took my attention off my nerves. I wasn’t normally happy to talk about her. Just her name raised my blood pressure. But apparently, massaging a shirtless Drew Maddox raised my blood pressure even more, so somehow, the topic of Kaylie tonight was almost like a vacation.

“What was she sick with?”

I looked up at him, wanting to give him shit for his persistent curiosity. But I didn’t.

“She was a heroin addict,” I said, focusing on the pressure I was applying to his muscles. “Whenever she tried quitting, the withdrawal symptoms included muscle aches. Leg cramps in particular for her.”

“You were the younger one?”

“Yes. By four years.”

“How old were you when you started helping her with the cramps?”

“Exactly twelve.”

“Exactly twelve?” Drew repeated. “How do you remember that?”

“Because her first overdose was on my twelfth birthday.”

I remembered because Mom had hyped me up for a big surprise the whole day before, but on the morning of my birthday, I woke up to an empty house that remained empty all day.

I wouldn’t find out till Mom got home at night that she’d taken Kaylie to the ER first thing in the morning, for her first overdose in a year of using. Mom had stayed a few hours at the hospital before getting in her car and driving furiously to the middle of nowhere, screaming and crying the whole way, and eventually stranding herself with no gas or phone. She was so tired by the time she got back that she couldn’t handle all my questions and tears. She just closed her bedroom door on me and went to sleep.

“She quit after that?” Drew asked.

I looked up at him, still so suspicious of him when he asked questions about me. I really couldn’t imagine that he actually cared about anyone’s story. My theory now was that he was using the grim topic of Kaylie the same way I was – to distract from the overly sexual nature of what we were doing.

“That was her first try. There would be many others. In fact, she’s in the midst of another try right now.”

“How often do you speak to her?”

“Never. I moved out when I was seventeen and I’ve been no-contact with her since,” I replied, trying to sound cold and casual, as if I didn’t carry guilt with me every day.

I knew I succeeded because without even looking at Drew, I could see his eyebrows lifting up high. I was sure he was judging me. I felt like I deserved to be judged.

But when he spoke, he reminded me of his own relationship with his family.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, his words kind but his tone harsh. “People act like blood means more than your own sanity. But it doesn’t.”

I didn’t look at him as I moved my hands up to his thigh, right above his kneecap.

“I know. And I tried to help for a long time,” I defended myself, because I always felt like I had to. “She stole from me, hit me, spit on me, and I’d take it because she was sick. She didn’t ‘mean it.’ But even after she broke my arm, my mom defended her.”

“How the fuck did she defend that? And how the fuck did she break your arm?”

The genuine anger in Drew’s voice made me look up in surprise, but it was nothing compared to the fiery blaze of his stare. Okay, so it wasn’t so much sympathy for me as rage for the world.

“Well.” I looked back down, using both hands to work the seemingly impenetrable muscle of his lower thigh. “My mom kept saying she couldn’t help it, and to remember when Kaylie and I were best friends. But after six years of this and being thrown down a fucking flight of stairs one day when I wouldn’t give Kaylie any more money, I said I was done. I wasn’t going to keep waiting for the day she went back to who she was. As much as I loved her, as much as I still miss her, she’s not there anymore. It’s not her. And I can’t let her bad decisions dictate my life anymore.”

“Of course,” Drew said, his voice almost gentle. By his standards at least. I looked up at him. “You have to take care of yourself before you can take care of anyone else,” he muttered, wincing and groaning in between as I worked up to the middle of his thigh.

I couldn’t help but smirk a little.

“You’ll hate knowing this, but those were the exact words Mike said to me when he convinced me to cut them out of my life.”

“You’re right, I do hate knowing that,” Drew shot back fast. But then he relaxed again, rolling his head back and sucking in a long, deep breath between his teeth as I pushed the heel of my palm along his hamstring. “God, Evie, that feels so fucking good.”

The gravel in his voice shot straight between my thighs. Suddenly, I recognized the sheer proximity of my hands to his cock, and it made me bite my lip. Clearing my throat, I tried distracting myself with an unpleasant subject.

“Well, just because Mike gave me good advice before doesn’t mean he’s got a lifetime pass. He’s still an asshole who – oh shit!”

My sharp gasp jolted Drew, and I caught a half second of his confusion before scrambling to my laptop and trying to remember if I’d actually hit enter.

Before Drew came home, I had been seething over Mike’s Facebook post. I’d written that dirty, snappy comment just to blow off steam and make myself laugh, but I hadn’t actually hit enter.

Right? I would never, Itold myself just as I hit the space bar, woke up my laptop and stared at a good thirty-six notifications staring at me at the top of the page.

“Oh God,” I breathed as I realized that I would never did not actually apply, because apparently, I very much would. My eyes were wild as I reread his post – Baltimore SPANKED NY tonight! There goes your big win streak Empires #sorrynotsorry #someoneisoverpaid #damyoureallyblewit – followed by my reply:

Guess that means someone else is getting spanked tonight. Not that I mind ;) #loveit #heshotwhenhesmad

Oh.

My God, Evie.

I had no other words for myself as I knelt in front of my screen, hands clasped over my mouth while taking in all the likes, loves, shocked emojis and sassy GIF replies under my insane comment – some of them from Mike’s own coworkers.

Omigodomigodomigod.

“What?”

The second I heard Drew’s voice, I slammed my laptop shut.

“Nothing!” I said, though when I turned around, Drew was sitting forward, as if he’d just been reading over my shoulder. I squinted at him. I knew he’d looked, but I couldn’t tell if he’d read everything on my screen, so I kept my narrowed eyes pinned to his vague smirk as I returned to massaging his legs. And after ten seconds of quiet, I concluded that he hadn’t seen a thing.

But just to be safe, I kept his mouth shut by throwing myself into massaging the hell out of him, using all the strength in my body to push, rub and knead his thighs till I was breathless and he was growling from the pain.

“Trying to hurt me, little girl?” he snarled.

“I thought you said it hurt but felt good.”

“Kind of like being spanked?”

Oh God. My heart slammed in my chest. Okay, so he did see the comment, I breathed, trying to play it off and gather myself. But when it was clear that I wouldn’t, I looked up at him, cheeks burning.

“That was clearly for show. Just to shut him up,” I said as amusement danced in his eyes.

“So you have no interest in getting spanked.”

“That clearly breaks our no-touching rule. I think we both know that.”

“I could use a paddle to avoid actual contact.”

“So… do you want me to finish this massage or do you want me to go to my room and ignore you till the end of time?”

“Finish me off,” he smirked, breaking into a full grin when I whispered ass under my breath and returned to the massage.

But at this point, it was impossible for me to rub my hands all over his body without wanting to combust into flames. Drew’s gaze was fixed tight on me as I avoided looking up, still breathless, my chest still heaving from using all my strength on him. Both physically and mentally, I was faltering, getting weak, and all I could do was remind myself that he’d get cold and frigid if we caved and had sex.

Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it, I chanted on repeat. Don’t even look at him.

But just as I thought the words, Drew reached into his sweats and grabbed his cock.