If You Want Me (The Toronto Terror Series)

It’s been four days since Hollis caged me against the wall. Four days since I felt the warmth of his breath on my lips. God, he was glorious. Frustrated and sexy and looking a lot like he wanted to devour me.

In my fantasies, he doesn’t tell me to go to bed. Instead, he takes my face in his hands and explores my mouth with his. Then he fucks me against the wall. I’ve had no less than ten orgasms to that particular fantasy. It’s getting out of hand. But then, everything about this is.

“Aurora? You okay?” Jameson taps me lightly on the shoulder.

“Huh?” We met after class to work on one of our group assignments. The other two members left about ten minutes ago, since it’s going on six thirty. I was close to finishing this section, so I decided to stay put. I’m also avoiding dinner with my dad and Hollis again.

His brows are pulled together, eyes concerned. “You’re really flushed. Are you feeling okay?”

I press the back of my hand to my cheek. My skin is hot to the touch. “Oh. Uh, maybe I should head home.” Here I am, sitting in the middle of the university café with my classmate, thinking about my dad’s best friend. Again.

“I hope you’re not coming down with something. One of my friends in res said there’s this flu going around, and it’s been a real nightmare.” Jameson closes his laptop and slides it into his bag.

I shuffle my notes together. “Communal bathrooms and the flu sound like a special kind of hell.”

“I lived in them during first year. That was enough for me.” Jameson zips up his backpack while I do the same.

“I’m sure it was fun, though.” I slide my water bottle into the exterior pocket of my backpack.

“You’ve always lived off campus, right?”

“Yeah. My dad worried about the constant party in residence.”

“It could be that way, but mostly it was just fun to be around people my own age.”

We shrug into our jackets, and Jameson passes me my backpack. We leave the café and head toward the subway. It’s blustery today, but the cold air feels good on my overheated skin. When we reach the subway, Jameson takes his hat off and runs a hand through his hair. “Uh, a bunch of us are going clubbing downtown this weekend. I’m not sure if that’s your scene or not, but you’re welcome to join us, if you’re feeling okay, anyway.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Sort of depends on the club, but you could send me the details?” I suggest.

“Sure.” He shuffles nervously. “If it doesn’t work out, we could meet for coffee or something next week.”

“Yeah, sure. That’d be great. I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

It isn’t until I’m on the subway home that I question whether Jameson was asking me out for coffee independent of our study group. I think I totally missed that. I’m accustomed to being around elite athlete alpha males. Not uncertain university boys.

My phone buzzes as I’m waiting for my stop.

Mom

Hi honey! Checking in, how are you?

These are the moments when I wish she was the parent I told everything to, not my dad. It’s like there’s a block that stops me from spilling my guts to her. I’m not used to being so alone with my thoughts. I usually text my dad five times a day and vice versa, but we haven’t done that as much the last few months.

Aurora

I’m good! Coming home from class. Probably going to make dinner tonight for dad.

Mom

He loves your Mac and Cheese. So do I! We’re booking tickets for your birthday. Is there anything you want?

Aurora

I’m just excited to see you and North. Do you think he’ll bring me that tea that he made last time?

Mom

I’m sure he will. I’ll ask him for you. He says hi, by the way!

Aurora

Do you have plans this weekend?

Mom

We have a week-long camping retreat with some healers that I’m so excited about. I’ll be out of cell range, so I wanted to text you and tell you how much I love you and miss you before we go.

Aurora

I love you and miss you too! Have fun! Just not too much hahahaha I can’t wait to see you in a couple months.

Loving my mom is easy. She’s free and wild. It’s one of my favorite things about her, but it also means we’ll never have a normal mother-daughter relationship. My dad is my person.

I pull up his calendar on the ride home, checking his schedule. Tonight, he has a massage, which means Hollis also has a massage. It’s part of their routine. They have someone come to the penthouse. Hollis always has his first and then my dad, followed by time in the hot tub. Maybe it’s time to step out of avoidance mode.

Rix is washing dishes from her meal prep side hustle when I get home. A brand-new bouquet of peonies sits on the island. Tristan strikes again. She glances at the clock. “You’re coming in late.”

“I was working on a group project.” I didn’t tell her what happened with Hollis in Vancouver, but my coming in late all week says what I won’t.

She tips her head. “I’m heading to Tristan’s soon to cook dinner together, unless you need a little girl time?”

“You enjoy getting railed into next week. I was thinking about going to the pool for a swim.” It’s what I do when I need to think.

She rinses a mixing bowl and sets it in the drying rack. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just need to burn off some energy. All the sitting around is a lot.” I miss the hustle that came with working in the office alongside Hemi and Tally. We were such a great trio, and we were always on the move. I go down the hall to my bedroom to change.

Rix gives me an appraising look when I reappear a few minutes later in my bikini, coverup slung over my arm. “That’s quite the bathing suit choice for laps.”

“Is it too much?” I’m feeling antsy and anxious, like my skin is too tight.

“If you’re swimming with your dad, yes. If not, no.”

“Cool.” I slide my arms through my coverup. “Message me if Tristan’s patience wears out and he comes here.”

“Oh, that won’t happen. I’ve already told him under no circumstances is he to come over here, or else.”

“How’d he take that threat?”

“About as well as can be expected.” She grins deviously. “Enjoy your swim.”

“Thanks.” I shoulder my bag, leave the apartment, and take the elevator down to the pool. It’s empty when I arrive. Laps in a bikini aren’t the most practical, but clearly, I had a plan when I made this poor wardrobe decision.

I’m not disappointed. Half an hour into my swim, Hollis walks in. When I reach the end, I flip over and start a backstroke. He walks the edge of the pool in time to my measured strokes. Just like in the hotel room, he’s shirtless, all those defined muscles and his half-sleeve on display. He’s standing in front of me when I reach the end.

I pull my goggles up, resting them on my smiling banana swim cap, and grip the edge. His toes are close to my fingers. I tilt my head back and let my gaze climb his thick, muscled legs. Heat blossoms in my belly, traveling up my spine and into my cheeks as I remember the way he caged me against the wall in the hotel room. How his nose brushed mine. His lust-soaked gaze. The intense ache in my chest and between my thighs.

It’s a common theme these days, and it’s only exacerbated when Hollis is physically around. He’d been glaring at me all evening while Essie’s friend—Brandon? Brayden? I can’t even remember his name—flirted with me. That guy was nice enough, but his wasn’t the attention I’d wanted.

“How was the massage?” I ask.

“I’ll probably be sore tomorrow, but it was what I needed.” Hollis’s gaze moves over my face, then dips lower, beneath the water. “How long have you been down here?”

I lift one shoulder. “Half an hour maybe.”

“Not the most practical swimwear for laps,” he observes.

“I like the challenge of trying to keep it from falling off,” I reply.

His brow arches. “You’re a fucking problem, Princess.”

“I know.” I extend a hand. The ladder is only a few feet away, but I don’t even have to ask for help. His chivalry kicks in, and his fingers close around mine.

The electric zing makes my breath catch and goose bumps rise along my arm. The same reaction echoes across his skin. I brace a foot on the edge of the pool and a hand on his shoulder as he pulls me out of the water in one smooth motion. As soon as I’m steady on my feet, he releases me.

Neither of us moves. We just stand there, eyes locked, all the words I want to say stuck in my throat.

“Come on.” He inclines his head toward the hot tub.

I cross my arms, as if it will protect me from whatever is coming. I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling young and stupid and like I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve.

Hollis and I have, by design, only been alone for a few minutes at a time since all this began weeks ago, and unless someone comes down to use the pool, we’ll have a full forty-five minutes of me, him, and the giant elephant in the form of my out-of-control crush. He must read my uncertainty on my face.

“That’s why you’re down here swimming laps in a bikini instead of your one-piece, isn’t it?” Of course he knows what bathing suit I usually wear for laps. We’ve been down here plenty of times together in the past. But the weight of the last few weeks makes the air heavy and the energy between us charged.

I remove my swim cap, running my fingers through my hair so I don’t wring my hands.

He sighs softly, but his expression remains stoically neutral. “Come talk with me.”

He turns and walks toward the hot tub. My gaze moves in a hungry sweep over his broad back. For a moment, I imagine what it would feel like to dig my nails into his rock-solid hockey butt while he sank into me. Would he be a gentle lover? Possessive? Dominating? All the above?

I follow him, stepping into the bubbling water. It’s deliciously warm. He stretches his arms across the edge, and I sit to his left, a few inches from his fingertips.

“How’s school?” he asks.

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“I know what I want to do, and I’m ready to start my career,” I say.

“Don’t wish the semester away,” he says gently.

“I’m not. I’m just done with university life.” I could apply for a master’s program, but I want to be where I fit in the best, and that’s working for the league.

“University was some of the best years of my life,” Hollis says.

“Yeah, because you played for the university team and every girl wanted to sleep with you. I’m the daughter of a professional hockey player. It’s a lot different for me,” I remind him.

We’ve talked about this plenty of times, especially during my first year, when I learned the hard way that my popularity was tied to my dad’s fame. I dated a guy who had friends on the school hockey team for a couple of months. I figured it was fine because he wasn’t a player, until he started pushing to meet my dad, and then I realized it wasn’t me he wanted to date. It was my last name.

“Has that been tough for you lately?” he asks.

“Dad’s twentieth anniversary with the league is this year, so he’s gotten a lot of media attention. Most of the time my classmates are cool, but there’s always some awkwardness when someone gets all fanboy. Working with Hemi was great, because she gave me free rein on community-outreach projects. But going back to regular classes…” I drag my fingers along the surface of the water and sigh. It’s a reminder of how different my life is. “I used to want to fit in with my classmates so badly.”

“Not anymore?” he asks.

“It’s not realistic. I don’t know what it’s like to grow up in a normal house with a mom and a dad who have regular jobs. My mom lives her nomad life and works as a healer. My dad has always been a professional hockey player. I’ve always lived this life, but most of my classmates can’t and don’t get it. I can’t be my most authentic self around my peers, but when I’m with the girls, or you, or anyone else on the team, I can just be me.”

“It’s good to have people in your life outside of this world, though. It gives you perspective and helps keep you grounded.”

“I know. And I have a few friends in my classes who are cool about everything, but we have a lot of group projects this year, and when everyone talks about their weekend plans, it’s what club they’re going to, or a party at someone’s house, and I’m over here flying on a whim out to Vancouver with my friends for a game. It’s not relatable.”

At the beginning of the semester, I made the mistake of talking about the club we’d gone to for the new year. It’s an exclusive place, and the tickets were expensive. That’s all it took to change the way people see me.

“What about that guy your dad mentioned? James or something? He’s interested in you, isn’t he?” Hollis’s eyes are on his fingers, which tap agitatedly against the edge of the hot tub.

I don’t want to talk about Jameson. Not with Hollis. “All university guys want to do is hit the club, go to parties, or Netflix and chill. And when I say Netflix and chill, I don’t actually mean watching a show and chilling.”

Hollis narrows his eyes. “I know.”

“So you can see why I’m not jumping at the chance to date university guys.”

“It’d be better than my spare bedroom, don’t you think?” Hollis clamps his mouth shut, like he didn’t mean to say that. It almost makes me laugh.

I’ve done exactly as he’s asked. I change the sheets, and I wash and put away the used set before he comes home from away games. I leave no evidence behind.

“At least I know what I like and I can always get where I need to go.”

Twenty-year-old boy-men have such fragile egos. They’re not used to being directed, or guided, or a woman who asks for exactly what she needs. They watch too much porn and don’t read enough romance.

He shifts, like he’s uncomfortable. He brought it up though.

I change the subject and let him off the hook. “You’ve been playing clean, but I know you’re working hard off the ice to make it that way.”

His shoulders relax a little. “I know the importance of keeping my knee in good condition after that surgery. I’ve still got a year left on my contract, and I’m hoping for an extension.”

This is the kind of conversation I’m used to. We’ve always talked about personal goals and career expectations. “You put in the work last summer.”

“Thanks to you always dragging me down here to do laps.”

I hated seeing him so down after his knee surgery, so I made it my mission to help as much as possible. “All my annoying you was effective. You’re having an amazing season.”

“You never annoyed me. You were the kick in the ass I needed.” He smiles wryly, probably remembering how I’d steal his TV remote and refuse to give it back unless he got off his ass and joined me in the pool. Everything was different then. My secret crush was still a secret, and I wasn’t hiding things from my dad.

“Well, you’ve had an incredible comeback. You keep playing like you are, and they’ll definitely extend.”

He nods. “That’s the goal. I just need to make sure I don’t re-injure.”

“You follow all the rules, do all the work and then some. And even when you’re ready to hang up your skates, you’re more than a pretty face who’s amazing on the ice, Hollis. Whatever direction you decide to go, you’ll always have options.”

He smiles a real, genuine smile, and it makes him so beautiful my heart can hardly handle it. “Always looking on the bright side.”

“Can’t go through life hiding from the rain clouds.” I prop my cheek on my knuckles. “But I also understand the worry about what life could look like with a second serious injury.”

He nods. “I’m not twenty anymore. Things don’t heal the way they once did,” he replies.

“You’re only thirty-three, though.”

“Says the twenty-year-old university student,” he notes pointedly.

I sigh. I knew eventually we’d circle back to this. “I’ve watched rookies turn into star players. I’ve seen careers rise and fall. I get that I can’t understand exactly, but I can empathize in a way a lot of other people can’t.” I feel like I’m trying to pitch myself to him, which is stupid, but still I add, “I’m not a little girl anymore, Hollis.”

His eyes move over my face. “I’m well aware.”

I don’t want to be told, yet again, why I can’t have what I want. I start to stand, but Hollis’s fingers close around my wrist.

“Tell me something real and true.” His voice is deep, gritty. Like this is a struggle for him, too. Like he hurts the same way I do. We used to play this game last year, but it feels different now.

I sink back into the water and shift so I’m facing him. “I miss how easy it used to be between us. But everything has changed, and there’s no way to shift it back.” And even if I could, I don’t know that I’d want to. “I’ve missed this part of us.”

His expression softens, and everything I feel reflects back at me. Before he can respond, I continue. “I’m changing. I have changed, and sometimes I don’t know how to fit into my own skin anymore.” I swallow my fears and say the things I want to, because holding on to them is starting to be painful. “My dad’s family calls me Peggy, and the team and my hockey crew call me Hammer, which I get. It’s a reminder that I’m Hammerstein’s daughter, but neither of them feels like me. They’re parts of me, but they don’t feel authentic. I’ve always felt like Aurora. And maybe it’s silly, because it’s just a name. But Peggy was my great-grandma, who we all loved, but I don’t want to be an homage to someone else’s memory. I don’t want to be defined as the great-granddaughter carrying on a name, or as Hammerstein’s daughter. I just want to be me, and I want that to be enough.”

And when I’m with Hollis, that’s how I want to feel. Seen. Like the me I want to be matters.

His eyes are knowing as he absorbs my words. “Do you want me to call you Aurora?”

“Or Princess. You’re the only one who calls me that.” Secretly it makes me feel special, but I worry if I say so, he’ll stop. Especially now, with how uncertain everything feels. “It’s your turn to tell me something real and true.”

He rubs his bottom lip, eyes fixed across the room at the cityscape beyond the windows. “It’s hard for me to separate you now from the teenager you used to be. I know you’re not the same, that you’re not that girl anymore—not at all. But I feel like that’s supposed to be how I see you, and it’s fucking with my head.”

“I’m an adult. I have been for a while,” I say softly.

“I know. I’ve been trying not to notice for a while.” This time, his gaze lingers on my lips.

“I haven’t made it easy for you lately.” I bite the end of my fingernail.

“No, you really haven’t,” he agrees.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“No you’re not.”

I shake my head. “You’re right. I’m not. And I am sorry about that.”

He tucks my hair behind my ear. I lean into the touch and turn my head, lips brushing his wrist. Not on purpose, but on purpose all the same.

“Princess.” The word is guttural. Pained.

“Please, Hollis.” I rest my cheek in his warm palm, and he doesn’t pull away. An ache is heavy in my chest and pulsing between my thighs.

His eyes close, and for a moment, I fear he’ll turn me away. Again. But when they open, there’s such longing. And conflict. So much conflict. But he moves closer and leans in. “I shouldn’t,” he murmurs.

His calloused fingers are gentle against my cheek. His eyes move over my face, and my heart ricochets around in my chest. I don’t dare move or breathe or say a word.

This is really happening. Hollis is going to kiss me. Finally.

His lips brush over mine, and I’m melting and on fire at the same time. That insidious ache flares between my thighs. Heat rushes through my veins as he pulls my bottom lip between his. He angles my head and parts my lips with a soft stroke of tongue. And I moan. God, I moan. At the velvet warmth of his lips, and the sure way he kisses me. My leg bumps his under the water, and his other hand cups my face as he pulls me closer.

No fantasy can compare to this. To him. Seductive strokes of tongue, his warm, soft lips moving against mine. It’s so tender and sweet. So perfectly right. It’s the kiss to end all kisses. I’ll never be the same after this. His deep, needy groan sends a delicious shiver down my spine. I skim his ribs under the water with tentative fingers, afraid to break the spell but desperate to touch more of him. He angles my head further, tongue sweeping my mouth in rhythmic waves that make my toes curl. I’ve never been kissed like this. The rush of desire is dizzying.

I curve my hand around the back of his neck, needing him closer. I want to climb into his lap and wrap myself around him. I want his hands on my body, our bare skin touching. I want his fingers between my thighs, relieving the awful, glorious ache that expands with every passing second. I want more. Of him. Of this. I suck his tongue and whimper when he does it back. The sound he makes—part groan, part animalistic growl—makes my body hum with need.

I skim the back of his hand and trail the length of his arm. “Please, please.” I don’t know what I’m asking for, but I need something. I can’t get enough of the pull of his lips, the gentle way he holds my face and yet commands my mouth with his.

I slide closer, leg pressing against his. I feel electrified, desperate for touch. For him to relieve this maddening, overwhelming throb that amplifies with every masterful stroke of tongue and nip of teeth. I’m seconds away from climbing into his lap.

And then suddenly his lips aren’t on mine anymore.

My eyes open, and his expression makes my stomach drop. Lust and longing are still very much present, but the guilt is an anvil to my hummingbird heart.

“Fuck.” His gaze moves to the side. “That was not⁠—”

“It’s okay, Hollis. We’re not doing anything wrong.” It doesn’t matter if I’m right, that we’re both adults who can make adult decisions. We’re reading from the same book, but we’re on different pages. He still sees me as his best friend’s daughter, and I see him as the man whose bed and heart I want to be invited into.

“That was a mistake, Aurora.” He pulls himself out of the water. “We can’t happen. Not ever.”

I desperately want to find a way to fix this, but as I take in his wet, tense form, and the very impressive erection tenting the front of his swim trunks, I already know I can’t.

Worse though, is that any questions I had about my feelings for Hollis have been put to rest. I can’t pinpoint how long I’ve felt this way, but the horrible, paralyzing pain in my chest confirms it. I’m in love with him.

I sit in the hot tub for several minutes after he’s gone, trying to process what happened. It started as the best kiss of my life and ended as the worst. Not because of the kiss, but because of the way Hollis looked like he’d already stepped in a steaming pile of regrets within seconds of it ending.