If You Dare: A Hockey Bully Romance
If You Dare: Chapter 24

Wes

In the locker room, I snarl, “Where’s Trey?”

Luke’s spine straightens at my tone, but Brody doesn’t notice I’m out for blood. He points to the other side of the locker room, and I stomp in Trey’s direction. Luke’s on my heels, ready to break up whatever fight’s about to go down.

Once I get my hands on that asshole, he’ll never lay another finger on Violet.

He’s still shirtless when I find him bullshitting with some of the other guys, that cocky, insufferable grin across his face. Like a fucking coyote that just raided the chicken coop.

I grab him by the shoulders and throw him up against the lockers. The crash of flesh on metal gets the other guys jumping to their feet, some running toward us, but none of them dare to intervene.

“The fuck, man?” Trey spits.

“Yeah, the fuck, Trey?” I get in his face. Only got a couple inches on the guy, but I’ll still ragdoll him if he makes a move. “Where do you get off cutting a girl to ribbons?”

His snarl turns wicked. “Same place you do. Balls deep.”

I pin his throat to the locker with my forearm, veins bulging beneath my skin. Every fucking cell in my body longs to sink my fist into his nose, beat him until he can’t walk, but Coach would have me off the team in a second. I can’t throw away everything I’ve worked for to teach him a lesson.

“You keep your fucking hands off her. You hear me?”

“I was just,” he chokes out, “following Captain’s orders.”

Luke grips my shoulder. “Come on, Novak. Ease up.”

I dig my arm deeper into Trey’s neck, fear finally flashing in his eyes and making him scramble, tearing at me to get off him.

“Your captain didn’t order you to cut her up.” I snarl my next words directly in his ear so he hears them loud and clear. “You ever lay another fucking finger on her, I’ll rip every limb off your body.”

Trey smacks my arm like he’s tapping out of a wrestling hold. I finally release him, and he gulps down air before bracing his hands on his knees.

“Everyone keeps their hands off her,” I shout to my team. “Forget about Violet Harris.”

What happened between Trey and Violet in that bathroom was a fucking mess. Trey might’ve been the one to cut her up, but I guarantee he wasn’t the only one in on it. Knowing Trey, half the team was egging him on. He lives for the attention—that’s why he’s still so butt hurt I got captain.

“Why forget about her?” Trey pants, straightening. “You hate the bitch. You’re the one who told us to run her off campus.”

“And now I’m telling you to forget about her,” I snap.

“You getting soft? Or falling in love with some pussy?”

Something tells me if I confess the truth—that I’m forgiving Violet, that I’ve been in love with her since just about the first time I spoke to her—Trey will only become a greater danger to her.

“I’m handling her myself. You don’t know where to draw a fucking line, Trey. You don’t think shit through. You know what would happen to the team if you’d gotten caught?”

He rolls his eyes like the arrogant piece of shit he is. “I wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

“Another girl could’ve walked in anytime, dipshit. You didn’t follow my orders. So you’re out. You’re all out. I’ll handle this on my own.”

It was stupid getting them involved in the first place. This has always been between me and Violet.

Trey shakes his head, jaw ticking. “Whatever you say, Captain.”

Violet

Aneesa buys my lie that I had a meltdown and spontaneously chopped off my own hair, but she tsks at what a shitty job I did before grabbing a pair of scissors to fix it.

“Of course you know how to cut hair too,” I tell her. It should be illegal to be this perfect.

A few girls come and go from our floor’s shared bathroom, most of them chatting amiably with Aneesa and doing their best to ignore me.

“You’re welcome.” When she’s finished, Aneesa rests her hands on my shoulders. “Honestly, I think I like this better. You look good with short hair.”

I touch the ends, finally daring a peek at my reflection. To my surprise, Aneesa is right. My hair brushes against my shoulders in a perfectly symmetrical bob, framing my face and turning my jaw and cheekbones delicate.

“Chloe would love this. She told me if I kept refusing to do anything with my hair, I should just chop it off.” I freeze. This may be the first time I’ve brought up Chloe casually to Aneesa. To anyone since she died.

Aneesa flashes an easy smile. “She sounds like she knew what she was talking about.”

Relief floods through me as I return her smile. I can’t remember the last time I felt anything other than devastation and sorrow at the memory of my best friend. “She did.”

Part of me wants to tell Aneesa about Wes too. Confide in her about our conversation in the restroom. How Wes looked at me when he spotted the jagged haircut Trey gave me. How he couldn’t drag his gaze from me even if he wanted to.

How he held me while I cried. Murmured that he doesn’t want me hurting anymore.

I want to confide in her about all of it. The evidence on my stomach of Trey’s attack. What else he threatened to do to me with that knife.

But Aneesa will definitely run to report the incident if she finds out. Even if I only report what Trey did, Wes will inevitably get wrapped up in it. He’ll suffer too. And despite everything he’s put me through, that’s the last thing I want to do to him.

I just want all the suffering and pain to end.

The text from Wes comes when Aneesa and I are heading back from the dining hall to our dorm room.

Come to the beta theta pi party.

Another party. There’s no way I want to go to that. I don’t think Wes has any evil plans for me, but I’m sure the rest of the Devils will be there. Trey will be there. Who knows if he’ll stop at cutting up my stomach this time.

My hands are unsteady while I text back.

Why?

I want to see you.

Wear something sexy.

Who else will be there?

Don’t worry about them.

I told them to leave you alone.

You’re mine now.

My heart pounds, but I try to keep my voice casual. “Hey, Aneesa? Do you want to go to a party with me tonight?”

She frowns. “Please tell me you’re not talking about the Beta Theta Pi party.”

“What if I am?”

She sighs. “You know Wes is going to be there. If you go, he’s definitely going to do something to you.”

“I think that’s behind us now, actually. We talked and . . . we’re moving forward.”

Aneesa’s features contort. “You don’t actually believe that, do you? He’s been tormenting you for months, Violet. This is just another trick.”

No. Not after that conversation in the bathroom. Not after he cleaned the blood off my stomach and held me while I cried, murmuring reassurances into my hair. Wes is different now. Things have changed between us.

I’m almost sure of it.

“That’s why you should go with me,” I tell her.

“I can’t go. I’m heading home for the weekend,” Aneesa says, and the small bubble of hope in my chest pops. “And you better not be going either. In fact, you should go home this weekend too. Talk to your mom—try to mend things with her. I know it’s bothering you.”

I shrug. “I’m fine with it.”

While not totally true, I have managed to compartmentalize enough to bury Mom’s disappointment deep enough that I sometimes forget about it altogether. Forget that this time last year, she was calling or texting every day to make sure I was still alive and to tell me all about our neighbor’s latest antics or—when she and Mrs. Novak met—about the funny memes and gifs they’d sent each other that day or the hilarious stories they shared while wine-drunk.

Aneesa squeezes my shoulder, forcing me to meet her wide, deep brown gaze. “Just promise me you won’t go to that party tonight.”

My heart skips with the lie forming on my tongue. “Fine. I have a lot of studying to do anyway.”

“I’m glad.” She nods her approval. “Nothing good can come from you being around Wes Novak.”

I’m stiff in Aneesa’s black dress. She let me wear it to the last party, so I’m sure she won’t mind if I borrow it again. Especially if I wash it and she never finds out.

A slow-moving line blocks my way into the frat house. A few of the Devils are passing out red plastic cups.

As soon as I spot their jerseys, I want to run in the opposite direction, but my desire to see Wes wins out. I’m aching to watch his eyes light up when he notices me in this dress.

Once I get further up the line, Trey’s predatory gaze lands on me.

I balk. He flashes his notorious devilish grin before holding out a red plastic cup to me. Like he didn’t have me pinned up against a bathroom wall yesterday, slicing into me. Those wounds still fresh and tender beneath my dress.

His palm snakes around my shoulder, fingers digging in just deep enough to inflict pain. “Back for more, pretty girl?”

Wes’s words ring in my ears. Fight back. For a wild second, I imagine throwing my drink in Trey’s face.

But then I picture the rage that would contort his features, and I clutch my drink in both hands. I square my shoulders. “I’m not here for you.”

I shake off his touch and keep my head high as I stride away, even as nausea roils in my gut and I brace myself for him to attack me from behind. Maybe hold that knife against my throat this time. I don’t dare glance over my shoulder, but his assault never comes as I disappear into the crowd of warm, gyrating bodies.

Maybe the Devils really are listening to Wes’s order to leave me alone. Relief flows through me, relaxing the tight muscles in my shoulders.

In the massive dining room, I manage to get some space to catch my breath. The place smells like old coffee and burnt toast. I sip at my beer, nerves pestering me.

“You came.”

I spin, drink sloshing dangerously close to the brim as Wes approaches through the dimly lit room. “You told me to.”

He’s already closed the distance between us, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love when you do as you’re told.”

I want to ask if I’m forgiven. If he’s been touching me and kissing me and making me come because he still wants me just as much as I want him.

Despite everything we’ve done to each other. Despite all the damage and hurt we’ve caused. Neither of us has been able to shake those feelings away. To withstand that magnetic pull toward each other.

But I’m still too scared to ask, because I’m terrified to know the answer.

“Why did you invite me here?”

A mischievous grin spreads across his gorgeous face. “To make you wear that dress for me.”

His eyes eat me up before he presses my body against him and squeezes my ass. His hot breath envelops my ear. “You want to come on my cock tonight?”

I take another long gulp from my cup. The liquid courage helps me nod, form the breathy words of my assent. “Yeah. I do.”

“Beg me,” he growls low in my ear, his husky scent wrapping around me in a delicious embrace.

I let out a shaky breath. “Please, Wes.”

“Please what?”

“Please . . . fuck me.”

He gives my ass a rewarding slap. “That’s right, little flower. You’re learning.”

A thrill of anticipation skitters along my spine as Wes leads me upstairs by the hand. He’s touching me in public. Not caring who sees or what anyone thinks.

My heart sings, and maybe my eyes would mist again if I could feel anything other than delight and anticipation at being led upstairs by Wes Novak.

Trey’s hungry stare follows us up the steps from where he’s still passing out drinks. I can’t possibly hear him over the shouts and music and laughter, but I swear he mouths, I’m next.

Now the feeling skittering down my spine is fear.

Wes finds an empty bedroom and flattens his hand against the base of my spine, pushing me inside before locking the door behind us.

I can hardly breathe, torn between wanting this with every fiber of my being and knowing I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve happiness or forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, Wes,” I whisper as he grabs my hip. “I’ll say it every day if I have to.”

“I know,” he murmurs.

He grabs the red plastic cup I’m still holding and places it on a dresser behind him before running his hand through my hair and bringing my mouth to his. The kiss is tender but insistent. His lips moving over mine until his tongue parts them, sliding against mine and making my entire body thrum.

When I pull away to catch my breath, I finally ask the question that’s been gnawing at me. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”

His eyes fall briefly shut and he exhales audibly through his nose. “I’m trying.”

I’m not forgiven yet. Not fully. But he’s trying, and that’s all I can ask for. More than I deserve.

He guides me to the bed. My knees buckle and I fall back onto the mattress.

Wes climbs on top of me and hauls my dress up to my chest, exposing my breasts and panties. My head starts to spin. I didn’t feel this way last time, but maybe it’s just the beer kicking in.

“You’re so perfect. Fucking made for me.”

My heart nearly breaks. I feel like I’ve finally gotten the old Wes back. A glimpse of who he was before Chloe’s death broke him. Before I broke him.

Now it’s my job to help him put the pieces back together.

He squeezes my tits. “I fucking love these,” he growls.

Cool air brushes against my peaked nipples before he sucks one into his mouth, making me gasp and clutch at his hair. The warmth from his mouth and the wet stroke of his tongue makes the space between my legs weep.

“Wes,” I gasp, pulling him closer. He sucks my nipple deeper into his mouth, so hard I nearly wince.

The room spins for a second, and a small dose of panic shoots through me. I didn’t drink much, but maybe I drank enough to be sick.

“How bad do you want me, little flower?” He drops my nipple and moves to the other, and I hiss when he latches on. His cock drives up against my clit and I cry out, the pleasure sudden and intense. I feel his low chuckle all the way to my toes. “That bad, huh?”

He drops to his back beside me and tugs me toward him. “Sit on my face.”

“What? I thought you wanted to—”

“Sit on my fucking face, Violet. Now.”

Another order I don’t dare refuse. Wouldn’t dream of. Warmth pools between my legs as I straddle his chest.

His huge hands grab my ass and push me forward until I’m nearly falling onto his face. My pussy collides with his mouth, and he licks up the cotton panties between us.

He kisses and nibbles, the sensations sharp against my sensitive and aching clit. My mind starts to slip and I grip onto the headboard, trying to anchor myself to this bed, to this moment, to Wes.

Except the whole world is spinning now, flickering in and out.

“Violet?” His voice, full of concern, but like he’s speaking through water.

I’m staring up at the ceiling now, the mattress soft but cold beneath me without his warmth. His face, distorted above me, as his lips form my name again.

The last thing I see before my eyes fall shut.

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