Page 51 of Off-Ice Misconduct
Luke
Ace and a girl.
He was dressed to blend in with his hood pulled up, eyes covered by sunglasses, but I’d know him in the dark.
And then he fucking pulled his hoodie off andgaveit to her!
I growled. Yeah, like a crazed beast. Wasn’t he in shit with some girl over doing that? Hasn’t he learned what that means? Unless … was it the same girl? Did he change his mind about her because he knows I was in the process of pushing him away?
He doesn’t wait long, does he?
I watched from the shadows like a jealous buffoon, pacing, cursing him under my breath, letting every one of her touches fuel the shitstorm of possessiveness that was going to make me do something stupid.
Believe me, I tried talking myself into doing what I should be, heading in the other direction from McKinnon, but then he gripped her delicate hand and brought her into the building.
Is that what he really wants? Delicate hands? Fuck that. I’d be leaving a few bear-paw hands on his ass to clear things up. Ifollowed them into the cafeteria, and I wasn’t even that stealthy. He should have noticed me, but he didn’t. All he could see was her. Some might call what I was doing stalking, but I saw it as an opportunity to watch him candidly. He’s naturally flirtatious. No wonder he attracts people like bees to honey; he’s putting vibes out left and right, and she’s soaking them up.
When she left, she kissed his cheek—kissed his motherfucking cheek!—and made off with his hoodie, which as far as I’m concerned is a form of marking.
And the die was cast.
Uncle was right. Tatum doesn’t care about me; he cares about getting what he wants like a spoiled fucking brat. I’m not giving up what I want for him this time.
A guy like me doesn’t hide well, even in a sea of students, so I had to be clever. I waited till he was away from the densely packed throng of bodies, and made my move from the shadows, yanking him sideways in such a way that even his well-trained periphery wouldn’t clock me until I had him up against the stone wall of a building.
There’s no one here, and we’re deep in a corner pocket. I just have to make sure he doesn’t scream. At least, that’s what I should be doing. Instead, my mouth’s locked on a vulnerable stretch of his skin begging for my teeth. I want to mark him like he marked her, but worse. I want something permanent. Something he can’t take off. Ever.
My lips dive for his, but he stops me, shaking his head. “No kissing my lips.”
“What are you talking about, McKinnon? You’ve been begging me to kiss you. Now that I am, you don’t want it?”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to, it’s …” His gaze flips to the ground, then back to me, and I get it. He’s protecting himself. Because of what I did—what Ialmostdid. I may not have pushedhim away, but that was my intention. I hurt him, and he doesn’t want to admit it out loud.
“You’re lucky I love a challenge,” I mutter, even though my chest aches like a sucker-punch. “Any other boundaries I should know about?”
He shakes his head. “No. You can do anything else to me—anything.”
It’s an emotional boundary then and, as much as I hate it, it’s a good idea. He should protect himself from someone like me.
“You shouldn’t be so generous with a guy like me, because I will do whatever I want to you. Can I trust you to tell me if anything changes, McKinnon?” I rub my thumb over his bottom lip, lusting over what I can’t have.
He scowls. “Yeah, but if you’re gonna call me McKinnon, you have to call me the other thing, too.”
I can’t tell if he’s blushing in the darkness, but I bet he is. His eyes flicker away.
“No. You don’t hide from me. Ever. Bring those pretty eyes back up here.” I’m holding his jaw captive. He can’t turn his head away like I’m sure he wants to. I smirk when his crystal-blue gaze meets mine. “That’s a good boy. Do you want Daddy to call you princess? Is that the demand you’re making?”
Like hell will he be a spoiled princess.
His lip, the one I want to bite, trembles. “Yes, Daddy,” he breathes.
God help me. Hewon’tbe a spoiled princess is about to become my new mantra. There’s a chance he’ll make me forget sometimes.
I’ve been sucking on his neck for a while. The scant bit of sunlight that reaches us shines across the several hickeys that have formed there. I’ve marked him, he’s mine, but does he know it?
Let’s make a few things clear.
“You’re mine now, princess. We’re a thing—or whatever vernacular your generation uses to denote together. I don’t share, and you’re mine until I say otherwise—which I won’t.”
