Page 57 of Fault Line

No, that would be ridiculous. I’m not her boyfriend, and I have no claim over her. She’s a grown woman who can do whatever she wants.

Despite telling myself that partial truth, I can’t help but feel a sense of possessiveness over her. I don’t want anyone else to touch her, to have her moaning the way she does for me. It’s a selfish thought, I know, but I can’t fucking help it.

I flop back onto the bed, feeling the weight of the loss pressing down on me. It’s not just the game we lost tonight, though . . . it’s everything.

It’s the fact that I’m here, in a hotel room, hundreds of miles away from the one person who makes me feel the most alive—a feeling I don’t often experience outside of the rink.

It’s the fact that I can’t stop thinking about her, even when I know I shouldn’t.

I close my eyes, willing myself to fall asleep. Maybe in my dreams, I’ll be able to forget about everything else. Or maybe, if I’m lucky enough, Kaia will be there with me, her soft body pressed against mine, her breath hot on the shell of my ear.

But as the night wears on and the sounds of my teammates’ revelry die down, I’m unable to drift off. Sleep usually comes easily to me, but not tonight.

No, my mind is too full with thoughts of Kaia fucking Karras, too consumed with the memory of her body writhing beneath mine—squirming, panting, and breathing out my name.

I know this is pointless. I know I should be focusing on hockey, on my teammates, on winning games, and coming out on top. But at this moment, all I can think about is her.

And so, I lie there in the darkness, my mind a jumbled mess. I don’t know what the future holds for the two of us. But what I do know is that, at least for right now, Kaia’s all I can fucking think about.

* * *

As the weekenddraws to a close, I quickly recover—feeling pretty damn good despite our loss. The team’s morale is high, and I’m confident that we’ll come back stronger in our next home game.

But even with that part sorted, my mind keeps wandering back to last weekend.

All I can think about is the way it felt to move inside Kaia—to finally fuck her, to own her body, to earn her gasps of pleasure. It’s so fucking addictive between us, both inside the bedroom and out, and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.

But I can’t let myself get caught up in this shit, whether or not I want something more with her ... or whether or not she’d even dare to entertain the idea. Right now, we’ve got a good thing going, and I’m content to leave it at that.

The future will take care of itself.

Come Monday, I spot Kaia across the room in our first lecture of the day, sitting in her usual seat beside Elio. At least, he looks to be in good spirits for once. But something’s different about her today, something that makes me a little uneasy.

She looks exhausted, drained of energy, like she’s barely holding on. I try to catch her eye, but she blatantly avoids me.

As the lecture ends and Elio disappears from sight, I make my way over to her, hoping to check in to see how she’s doing. But as I approach, she tenses up like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hey,” I say, my voice soft and gentle.

She nods in response, but her body language is tight, defensive.

“You look like shit,” I blurt out, cringing at my own words as soon as they leave my mouth.

“Thanks, Beck,” she mutters, her voice raspy and hoarse. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” I backtrack, poorly attempting to fix my mistake. “I just meant that you look like you could use some rest.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, but I can see the fatigue etched into every line and corner of her face.

“Come on, Karras.” I stick my hands in my pockets, restraining myself from running fingers across her flushed skin. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”

“Barely.”

“Let me take some notes for you in our next class,” I offer, hoping to ease her burden. “I can cover for you tomorrow too. But you really should go home and get some rest.”

“I don’t need your help,” she snaps back, her hostility catching me off guard.

I hold my hands up in mock defense, brow furrowed. “It was just an offer.”

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