The Brick Wall

Chapter 69

Collins POV

There's a small voice in my head that is begging me to push Curtis away, not allow myself to enjoy the way his lips move against mine. Telling me not to find pleasure in the way his tongue is controlling my own, coaxing it out to play.

However small it starts out at, it begins screaming in no time. Words that I've told myself since the assault.

'I'm not good enough.'

'I'm broken and battered.'

'I'm used and now nothing but my future husband's trash.'

'I can't be allowed to enjoy intimacy anymore.'

'I can't be loved.'

I tell the voice to shut the hell up and leave me alone.

At least for now.

Is it possible that I could maneuver myself over the center console, climb into his lap and somehow manage not to honk the horn?

I'd sure like to find out, so I begin readjusting my body. My hand is already bracing itself against the console as I begin to gently push Curtis back against his seat. I feel like he's getting the idea as his hand finds my hip, ready to guide me over.

Just as I start to swing my right leg over, my eyes still closed, lips refusing to move off of his, there's a banging against Curtis' window. Startled I jerk my head back, but too far gone to retreat from his lap.

There stands Thaddeus and Blake on the other side of the glass. Blake looks put off while Thad's grin is a mile wide. And that's when I see it.

A cell phone. A light shining brightly off of it, pointed in our direction.

Curtis' head drops back in the seat while he mumbles curses under his breath. Words I've actually never heard him use, yet somehow they manage to make me shiver.

I mean, I'd always enjoyed the foul mouth cowboys and hockey players I read in my books. But that's fiction, not real life. Now? Seeing it first hand?

That's right, friends. I'm adding 'potty mouth' to my list of possible kinks.

One joke about sending the video off to their social media manager has Curtis throwing his door open, hopping down all while I'm still attached to his hips

His face, red and pissed, he sets me on my feet. "Give it," he instructs his captain, holding his hand out.

Thad keeps the smile attached to his face, stopping the recording. He slips his phone into his pocket, arms crossing against his chest. His head shakes slowly, side to side. "I don't think I will."

"Don't make me tackle you, Horne. You know I'll do it," Curtis warns him.

I notice Blake's glance bouncing between the two of them, his own keys spinning around a finger.

Thad still doesn't budge.

Curtis takes a step closer, his body noticeably thicker and taller than the leader of the team. "I'll make sure to break your nose, give you both black eyes and send you on your way to try and grab a bunny for the night. Good luck with that. You'd probably have to find a desperate ugly chick to lick your wounds." By the time he's finished he's nearly nose to nose with the guy.

There's a falter in Thad's grin when Blake tries to hide his own laugh behind a fist. I have a feeling he's not laughing at the thought of whether or not Curtis will make good on the threat, but more likely the hilarity of the scene he just described.

"Legends. Three rounds of pool. Loser pays the tab," he offers his teammate.

"Video deleted and no broken nose," Curtis counters.