Page 184 of Off Limits: The Firsts

And I say logical, because I can’t swallow that she bailed because she’s embarrassed for people to know we were together. For Callum to know we had slept together.

The question is: is that why she slept with me? To maybe slide into my life between some bouts of good sex, some pillow talk . . . where she convinces me to leave Sanderson and change to KSM?

That would mean she just slept with a potential client. That would explain why she bailed right after.

I reject the notion but hate the thought that lingers. The one that screams all I am is a client to her.

A number she wants to nail to her wall, a fat commission check she’ll win over to her side and then forget to pay attention to. First the Dartmouth game and then tonight.

It’s the easiest thing to believe.

So much easier than believing maybe I deserve her. So much easier than believing she cares for me.

Because the last time she blew me off like this was after a bout of sex, when she got dressed and walked away, visibly upset without divulging why.

I didn’t chase her. I never asked what the hell happened but just figured our time was up. It was probably a good thing because the minute I feel things, I bail too. And I was starting to feel things.

But now I’m remembering the shitstorm it made me feel and hating it.

And that’s a sign that I need to back the fuck away and head whatever shit I’m feeling off at the pass.

My life is hockey. It’s about being the best. It’s about outrunning ghosts that will forever be a part of me.

Her job is profiting off athletes like me. It’s about getting the biggest roster. It’s about acquiring them like tokens and cashing them in when all is said and done.

She’s using me, and that gives me a justified reason to be pissed and push her away when I’d fucking kill to have her sitting beside me right now, quiet and comfortable waiting for the sunrise.

But I can’t let that happen.

I don’t deserve her.

I don’t deserve anything.

She used you, Mad. She just showed her cards. She’s in this for her. She can ply you with comments about how she wants to be your friend and be there for you if you need to talk, but the endgame is you being her client.

Another person to use me.

Another person to see me as a commodity.

Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll stop wanting her as badly as I do right now.

Maybe I’ll find some other way to not be lonely.

Is this all there is?

Dekker

The subtle soreness between my thighs is the first thing I notice when I snuggle deeper beneath the covers to hide from the sun streaming through the window.

Last night is more than a distant memory. It’s more like an in-the-face reminder of a pickle I need to figure my way out of.

I slept with a potential client. A current client all but caught me in the act. And then I had a moment of panic.

A huge moment of panic that only took some tossing and turning in bed when I couldn’t fall asleep to figure out.

What I felt for Hunter—the reasons I pushed him away the last time we were together—came back clearly last night.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. How can I purport to be this strong, independent female who puts up with no one’s shit, and after I spend one night with a man, I still have those same feelings? How can I be proud of myself when he was an ass to me at the club and I turned around and did what we did? How can I do any of this when I haven’t been up front with him about why I’m here?