Page 3 of Second Goal

“Hey, little Madden.” Tyler smirks down at me like he has no clue of the tension he just interrupted. Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing, because when Blake takes a step back, glaring at the younger man, Tyler just grins at him, then chuckles, turning his attention back to me. “If you want to get out of here, there’s a few of us heading to the Marquee nightclub.”

“She’s underage,” Blake says, his words hard, intimidating, just like the look he pierces Tyler with.

Tyler chuckles, raising a brow and says sarcastically, “Okay, Dad.” He looks back at me, dark eyes full of mischief. “Don’t worry about getting carded.” He winks. “You’re with me.”

Blake’s entire body tenses. I feel it more than see it, and I can tell he’s a heartbeat away from having Tyler plastered against the wall.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was jealous. Which is insane, because Tyler Slade is a boy compared to Blake Starowics. Sure, the two match each other in height. But Blake oozes masculinity, power.

He’s also dead set on keeping me under his thumb.

I remove Tyler’s arm from my shoulder and force a smile. “Thanks, but—”

“She’s not going with you,” Blake says, stepping between Tyler and me. “Go get your jacket, Kiley. I’m taking you home.”

There’s something in the way he sayshome, like a promise of things to come that has my body betraying me. And even though I know it’s probably all in my head, the need builds inside me so intense it sends little shockwaves throughout my body. A small whimper rises in my throat, but I swallow it before I humiliate myself.

“I didn’t bring a jacket.” I hold Blake’s steely gaze, knowing there’s a power struggle going on, but not sure why, or what it means.

When Tyler starts to speak, Blake makes a noise that sounds almost feral. A sound that has the kid taking a step away and raising his hands in surrender.

“No need to get pissy,” Tyler says before turning and leaving me alone with Blake.

Our gazes are still locked, and I swear I see the same need reflected in his eyes. But then he looks away, dragging a hand through his dark hair and letting out a heavy breath.

More frustration builds inside me. “You know I’m twenty, not twelve, right? I’m not a kid. You can’t tell me what to do—”

“You want to go with Tyler?” His gaze flicks back to me.

For a moment, I think about saying yes. But Tyler isn’t who I want. And the thought of going to a nightclub, even just for the satisfaction of defying Blake, doesn’t hold any appeal.

I sigh. “No.”

“Good.” He shrugs off his suit jacket before placing it over my shoulders, then leads me out of the building toward the parking lot. When he opens the passenger side door of his gray Mercedes-Benz, his hand rests on my lower back for an instant. Even through the layers of fabric that separates our skin, his touch is fire. And so is the look he gives me.

That whimper I’d been able to swallow before comes out now in a low moan. Desperate. Needy. A sound that begs him to kiss me.

His eyes close, but then he exhales heavily. “I should get you home.” One moment there’s passion and tenderness in his gaze, the next he’s looking away, expression haunted and cold.

God, the man is mercurial.

And yet I want him.

Desperately.

More than I’ve ever wanted anything. Just one touch. One kiss.

My body aches for it.

I get in the car, pulling his jacket tighter around me, inhaling his scent.

He’s still brooding when we park in the underground parking garage, and even more sullen when we step into the elevator. By the time we reach our floor, I’m so twisted inside with emotions and shit I don’t understand that I feel like I’m ready to snap. Or cry. Which is something I never do.

Knowing Blake is watching me, I fumble with my keys and struggle to get the right one into the lock.

“Here,” he says, coming up behind me and taking the keys from my hand.

His chest brushes my back as he unlocks the door.

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