Mile High (Windy City Series Book 1)

“What…” I stumble, still in a confused stupor. “What are you doing?” I pull my body away from Zanders’ once we make it outside the bar. Part of me liked the weight of his arm on my shoulder, but most of me is beyond confused as to what is going on.

Zanders seems almost as stunned as I am by his little public display as he stands frozen right in front of the busiest bar on the main street in Nashville.

The buzz of live music echoes from every honky-tonk on the street.

“Holy Shit! It’s EZ!” someone yells, pulling out their phone and snapping a picture of the star hockey player.

“Zanders!” More pictures, more flashes.

“Fuck,” Zanders mutters under his breath, dipping his head down, trying to hide a bit.

“Is this your newest?” a random onlooker asks. My head snaps in his direction when I realize he’s referring to me. “She doesn’t look like your usual type.”

My eyes widen at the statement as my body warms, embarrassment flushing me. I can feel the weight of a dozen sets of eyes on me, not to mention the endless flashes of camera phones.

As quickly as possible, I turn in the opposite direction and run, needing to get away from this scene.

“Stevie, wait!” Zanders calls out, chasing me down. And because he’s tall as fuck, and his legs are practically tree trunks of muscle, he catches up to me in no time.

“Stevie,” he says again, gently pulling my arm back to follow him down a dark alley behind the bar. “Come here. Shit. Stop running away from me all the time.”

I yank my arm from his grasp, entirely flustered by this whole situation. “Can you not say my name out loud while all your fans are taking pictures? I don’t want to be plastered online next to all your puck bunnies.”

Realization hits me as I turn away from him, pushing my hair away from my face. “Oh shit. I’m so screwed. I’m so, so, so screwed. I’m going to get fired.”

“What are you talking about?” Zanders asks.

“I can’t be seen with you.” I motion towards his stunning body that’s barely outlined thanks to the small light hanging off the building above his head. “I’m going to get fired.”

I begin to frantically pace the small alley, afraid to go back on the main strip, worried his eager fans will be there ready to take even more pictures.

“Stevie, chill.” Zanders pulls my hands away from my hair as the cold metal of his gold rings shocks my flushed hands. “Why would you get fired?”

“Those pictures,” I blurt out. “I can’t be seen with anyone on the team. I’ll lose my job if I’m caught fraternizing.” My tone comes out frantic, the words stringing together.

“Wait, really?” Zanders’ face is covered in surprise and maybe a little bit of…disappointment? “You can’t hang out with us?”

“No! Oh God, no.” Concealing my face with my hands, regret floods me as I continue to pace the narrow alley. I should’ve never come out tonight. The whole evening has been terrible since Hannah and Jackie showed up at my hotel. Neither of them gave a shit that I was with them. They just wanted to use me as an in with the people I work for. The guy wearing those cowboy boots that I could tell he purchased today couldn’t even treat me like a human. I was in no way, shape, or form attracted to him, but I was trying to be friendly by holding a conversation, though it was clear he didn’t want to be stuck with me.

And now those pictures. Oh God, those pictures.

Looking up, I find Zanders frantically texting away on his phone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m handling it.”

“Handling what?”

“Those pictures.” He puts his phone back in his pocket. “My PR team is on it. Anything that makes it online will be taken down just as quickly.”

“They can do that?”

“I pay them a lot of money to do shit like that, so yes. It’s taken care of.”

Taking a deep breath, my shoulders drop in relief. “Thank you.”

The last thing I want is to be associated with Zanders’ reputation by people thinking I’m another one of his random hookups, but more than that, I can’t lose my job. It’s not even because it’s something I love doing or feel passionate about, but because of its flexible schedule, I get to spend any time I’m home doing what I am passionate about. And that’s spending all my free time at the dog shelter. I can’t think of too many other jobs where I can be home and off work for weeks at a time.

“What happened to the whole ‘you never lie’ thing?” I ask out of nowhere, still utterly confused and completely flustered by what just happened. “Whatever that was in there seemed like a lie to me.” I motion towards the bar.

Zanders shrugs. “Sometimes, a small white lie is necessary to get what I want.”

“Get what you want?”

“Yes. Get what I want. And what I wanted was to get you away from those people. They’re not your friends if that’s what you thought.”

“I know they’re not. I just…I have a hard time…” Me explaining that I have a hard time making genuine friends because most everyone I meet wants to use me to get close to my brother would involve me telling Zanders who my brother is, and I don’t want him to know yet. “Never mind.”

Zanders stays quiet, allowing me to continue if I want, but instead, I furrow my brows in confusion, my eyes narrowing into slits as I stare at the beautiful specimen in front of me. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Zanders pops his shoulders, shyly looking away from me, which seems new. This guy doesn’t have a shy bone in his body.

“Last I checked, you’ve been trying to make my job miserable all season, and we can’t stand each other,” I continue. “So, why look out for me?”

That bit of shyness instantly shifts as Zanders’ hazels dart to mine, full of hunger. “You think I can’t stand you?” He takes two leisurely strides towards me as if he were stalking his prey. “If I can’t stand you, why can’t I stop pushing that damn call light on the plane, knowing you’ll show up right to my seat?”

Um, because you’re hell-bent on making my job a living nightmare.

“If I can’t stand you”—he takes another step forward, closing in on the gap between us—“then why can’t I get you out of my head? Why can’t I stop wondering what you might taste like?”

His eyes fall to my lips. Said lips part to say something, but words have evaded me.

“If I can’t stand you”—Zanders inches forward, leaving absolutely no room between our bodies, his large frame overpowering me—“then why has my only thought of every minute of every day for the last week been me wondering what it would feel like to fuck you?”

He stands over me, his eyes darting between mine, trying to read me, but I have no idea what I’m thinking right now.

“I really want to fuck you, sweetheart,” he softly adds.

My mind floods with disbelief, but at the same time, a jolt of genuine confidence runs through me. This guy, who every girl in North America would probably throw themselves at, is choosing me. Sure, he’s choosing me simply for one night, but still, I didn’t expect that.

Regardless, I’m not losing my job over an athlete who will forget I exist as soon as it’s over.

“Well, I can’t stand you,” I say in hopes it’ll help me put the boundaries back up.

Instead, a deep chuckle comes from his smirking lips before he bites down on the bottom one. “I don’t believe you.”

His thumb traces my cheekbone, but even though his touch ignites my entire body with warmth, I don’t take back my statement.

“Besides,” he continues. “Let’s say that is true, and you can’t stand me. Hate sex is the best sex anyway.”

I keep my focus glued to the gold chain around his neck, knowing I can’t look him in the eye. Behind the shiny metal, the black swirls of his tattoos blend with the deep shade of his skin. It’s all so perfectly distracting.

“What do you say, Stevie?” Zanders lifts my chin with a single finger, pulling my distracted gaze back to him. “One wild night.”

His lips are lifted into a sinister smirk, a devil’s promise in his eyes.

Do I want to? Hell yes. Should I? Absolutely not.

His reputation is the first red flag, reminding me of the promise I made to myself—that I’d never hook up with an athlete again. They’re bombarded by groupies, jersey chasers, just hoping for their turn. But God, you can bet he knows exactly what to do, and nobody has properly gotten me off in a while. Sure, there’s the purple toy back in my hotel room, but imagine the real thing.

I want to say yes. My vagina wants me to say yes. Say yes, Stevie. It’s only one time.

“No,” my brain speaks for me. “I’m good.” Followed by a condescending pat on his chest as I take a step back and away from him.

There’s no genuine confidence in what I’m saying or doing right now. It’s all an act because I’m freaking the fuck out.

Zanders’ lips tilt in an amused grin. He raises his chin slightly as his mischief-filled eyes stare down at me, and I’m pretty sure me saying no is precisely what he expected. He likes that I don’t give into him, but I’m starting to like it less and less.

“Open offer,” he says, taking a step back and casually tucking his hands into his pockets. “You just let me know when you’re ready to give in.”

Never sounds good. Never is what my brain wants me to say.

“How about never?”

“Never?” he repeats, brows lifting as he tests me.

I swallow. “Mm-hmm.”

“So”—he takes slow commanding steps towards me once again, but this time I retreat at the same pace until my back hits the brick wall of the bar behind me, his muscular body pinning me to it—“you never want me to kiss you?” His lips are lingering just above mine, and I can almost feel their softness and warmth from here.

Contemplating for a moment, my eyes dart to his lips as he sweeps the bottom one, wetting it with his tongue.

I continue to be mesmerized by the movement as I shyly shake my head to tell him no.

Well, that’s a bald-faced lie, Stevie. 

My heavy breathing and rapidly rising chest are vastly contradictory to the slow, steady inhales and exhales flowing through Zanders’ body. Though we’re pressed together so tightly, you might not know where I stop and he starts if it weren’t for our entirely different pace in breaths.

His body is large and commanding, suffocating in the most delicious way.

There’s a firm pressure resting right above the apex of my thighs, causing my entire body to ache, finally feeling what I’ve only been lucky enough to see.

He tucks my curls away from my face. The pad of his broad thumb gently trails the shell of my ear, ghosting over my endless gold earrings as an unwelcome shiver of need runs up my spine.

“And you never want me to touch you?” he softly asks.

My mouth falls open, needing to fill my lungs with oxygen, but this outdoor alley is currently depleted of any.

Touch me? I want him to touch every inch of me, but if my body’s current reaction to feeling him with his clothes on is any indication, I don’t think I could handle his bare touch.

“No,” I whisper the lie, though the crack in my voice conveys the exact opposite of my words.

Zanders’ lips slightly lift in amusement, but he recovers quickly.

He removes his fingers from my ear and neck, placing them in his pockets. “Okay, sweetheart.” He takes a step back from me, giving me room and doing exactly as my words said, even though I didn’t mean them.

And now my body aches for the pressure he left empty.

“But when you decide to stop lying to yourself, you’re going to have to beg me to fuck you…”

I stay silent, completely frozen in this moment.

“On your knees,” he adds, his gaze trailing every inch of my body. His attention lingers slightly longer on my mouth, his statement referring to it.

He takes another step back from me, the tension easing in the air. Zanders takes a deep breath, ultimately shifting from the devil dripping in sex to a perfect gentleman as he holds his arm out for mine to loop around.

“Now, let me walk you back to your hotel.”

I cautiously eye him with distrust.

He playfully rolls his eyes. “I’ll stay a good block away from the front door so your coworkers don’t see me.”

That’s not what my pointed glance meant, but let’s add fraternization to the list of why Zanders walking me back to my hotel is a bad idea.

“I just want to make sure you get home okay.”

His soft smile is sweet and genuine, so I loop my arm around his, allowing him to guide us back to my hotel. He takes quite a few back streets and alleys, which he says is to avoid any fans, though I do note it adds a good twenty minutes on to our walk together.

And the whole time, my body burns with a need I’ve never felt before.

Zanders stays across the street as I walk into the lobby of my hotel. As I open the door, I glance back over my shoulder at him. His 6’5′ frame is commanding in his tailored-to-fit outfit, and his posture is stiff as he watches me. I offer him a small wave before dipping into the hotel and refusing to look back at him, worried I’ll change my mind about tonight.

When my head hits my pillow, I can’t help but ask myself, “What the fuck just happened?”