Chapter 4

I don’t even remember how we got from that cramped, beer-smelling bathroom back to Jaxson’s off-campus apartment, but when I finally peeled my eyes open, the bright morning sun was slicing through the heavy blackout curtains, and I was buried under a mountain of dark, expensive-smelling sheets.

My head was pounding a steady, brutal rhythm against the mattress, a leftover souvenir from the cheap frat beer, but the dull ache in my lower back and the soreness between my legs told me exactly what had happened after we left that party.

I shifted slightly, and immediately, a heavy, muscular arm draped over my waist tightened, pulling me flush against a broad, bare chest.

Jaxson was awake. I could feel the steady, deep rumble of his breathing against my spine, and the rough scratch of his morning stubble was resting right against the back of my neck.

For a second, I just lay there, my heart doing this stupid, nervous flutter in my chest, waiting for him to pull away.

I fully expected him to suddenly realize what a massive mistake he’d made, to roll out of bed, throw some clothes at me, and tell me we were never speaking of this again.

That’s what guys like Jaxson Mercer did, right? They took what they wanted in the dark, and then they built a wall of ice in the daylight.

But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted closer, his large hand sliding up my bare stomach to rest flat against my chest, his thumb lazily tracing the line of my collarbone.

"You're awake," he murmured, his voice thick and gravelly with sleep, vibrating right through my back.

"Hard to sleep when you're using me as a body pillow, Captain," I shot back, trying to inject some of my usual bratty bite into my voice, even though my throat was still raw from screaming his name just a few hours ago.

Jaxson let out a low, rough chuckle that sent a fresh wave of heat straight to my groin. He finally pulled back just enough to look at me, his blue eyes dark and heavy, completely stripped of the cold, untouchable captain persona he wore on the ice.

He pushed himself up on one elbow, the sheet falling away to expose the hard, scarred lines of his torso, and he just stared at me for a long, quiet moment.

"Listen to me, Jules," he started, his tone shifting, becoming serious and grounded. "What happened last night... that was just stress relief. We’re on the same team, we’re under a microscope, and if anyone finds out about this, it’s a disaster for both of us. So, this stays in this apartment. It’s a dirty secret, and it doesn't leave this room."

I swallowed hard, nodding slowly because I knew he was right, even if his blunt words stung a little. "I know how this works, Jaxson. You don't have to spell it out."

"I'm not done," he interrupted, his gaze dropping to my lips before snapping back up to my eyes, his expression hardening into something fiercely territorial. "Because while this is just physical, and while no one else can know about it, I need you to understand my rules. You don't hook up with anyone else. You don't let anyone else put their hands on you. And when we're out in public, you don't look at other guys the way you looked at that lacrosse prick last night."

My breath hitched, my eyes widening as the sheer, unfiltered possessiveness in his voice washed over me.

He wasn't just claiming my body for the night; he was claiming my attention, my time, and my loyalty, even if he refused to call it by its real name.

"You're awfully demanding for a guy who just said this is just physical," I whispered, tilting my chin up to challenge him.

"I'm demanding because I know what I want," he growled, leaning in until his face was inches from mine. "And right now, I want you to agree to my terms."

"Fine," I breathed out, a slow, wicked smile curving my lips as I reached up to trace the sharp line of his jaw. "I agree to your rules, Captain."

I kept my voice steady, but behind my eyes, a completely different game was starting.

He thought he could just use me for stress relief, thought he could keep me locked away in the dark and control who I looked at, but he was dead wrong.

I was going to play his game, I was going to let him think he was the one in control, but I was going to make him fall so hard for me that he’d beg to break every single rule he just laid down.

I was going to break his cold, guarded heart, even if it killed me.

Jaxson’s eyes narrowed slightly, like he could sense the defiance brewing behind my smile, but before he could call me out on it, his gaze dropped to my neck.

He reached out, his rough thumb pressing gently against a dark, purple bruise blooming right over my pulse point—a nasty hickey he’d given me in the bathroom last night.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave as his thumb stroked the sensitive skin. "I left a mark. The coach is going to kill me if he sees that at practice."

"Then you better fix it," I taunted softly, my heart rate spiking as his eyes darkened with a familiar, hungry heat.

Jaxson didn't say another word. He just shifted his weight, caging me beneath his heavy frame, and buried his face in the crook of my neck.

His hot breath ghosted over the bruised skin for a second before his mouth closed over it, his teeth scraping lightly against the tender flesh.

I let out a shaky gasp, my hands flying up to tangle in his short, messy hair as his tongue soothed the bite, right before he sucked hard, claiming the spot all over again.