Laces and Lace
Page 34
Lacey would much rather be lonely than have that happen again.
But for some crazy, fucked-up reason, she had thought that was all about to change. She honestly fell back into her eighteen-year-old self, planning their whole life. It was so easy, so perfect, but so obviously a mistake. As much as she hated to say it, her dad was right. Karson was no good for her.
Ugh, why did she let this happen? She should have pushed him away when he kissed her! She should have kicked him in the balls! She should have said no! She shouldn’t still love him! Why, oh why, was she still so utterly in love with him? When a sob bubbled at the base of her throat, she closed her eyes tightly as it ripped through her, shaking her body.
She loved him because she couldn’t stop if she tried, and boy, had she tried. Over and over again, but she couldn’t let him go. Yeah, he was trouble, but he was her trouble. He’d loved her with a fierceness, one that she hadn’t been able to get over in years. Even though he’d left her and she was mad, she had forgiven him somehow through the years. She couldn’t be mad at someone who, when she looked in his eyes, she knew loved her. Even when he was breaking up with her, she knew he was doing it because he had no choice, or he seriously believed his dumbass reasons, or whatever. She knew he didn’t want to. He wanted to be with her; he just couldn’t, and for some crazy notion, she believed he would come back for her. Yeah, she was mad and wanted to play hockey with his balls, but she never lost the feeling of knowing he loved her. It was her own pride that kept her from finding him and asking him why. She didn’t want to be rejected again, but for some reason, she forgot that because she allowed him to come in again and break her for a second time.
She was downright stupid.
She reached for her pillow to drown her sobs since she didn’t want her neighbor to hear her, which, really, why she cared was beyond her. It wasn’t as if she had ever even seen the guy, and she had been living there for four years. But she didn’t care about that right now; now she wanted to cry and be completely broken that she had lost Karson for a second time. There wouldn’t be a third time though, no matter what. Couldn’t be. The faster he got out of Chicago, the better.
But what if he came back?
She’d slam that door so damn hard and hope that his balls got caught in the process. She wasn’t sure why he was naked in this scenario, but he was, and she hoped she broke his balls like he broke her heart. Asshole.
Maybe she’d go to Canada or Europe? That way she’d never see him, even though that thought had even more sobs bubbling inside her. She was beyond pathetic, but she’d worry about that later. Now she would cry. Now she would feel sorry for herself and wonder why she wasn’t fucking enough. She wouldn’t dare to think it was because of her breasts. No. She wouldn’t do that. He loved her—he did—he was just a fucking coward!
Blinking through the tears, she went to drop her face into the pillow, but something caught her gaze. Wiping her eyes free of tears, she reached for the little piece of paper that was between the mattress and headboard to find it full of messy handwriting.
Handwriting she knew belonged to Karson.
Her heart kicked up in speed as she blinked away the new tears that gathered in her eyes and read the letter.
My Lacey,
I see that you still sleep harder than a rock. I swear, you could sleep through a hockey game if you really wanted, which I know you don’t when I play. Ha-ha. Your eyes are always on me.
Last night was amazing, and I wish that I could have woken up to your gorgeous face grinning at me, but I had to go to morning skate and then do some promotional shit. Believe me, leaving this bed was the last thing I wanted to do, but I really had no choice. I’m sorry, but sorrier because as soon as the game is over, we are flying out to St. Louis. I am going to try to see if I can get a flight in the morning so hopefully, if you want to, you can meet me for drinks tonight. Actually, you have to meet me if I can stay because I stole your expensive, sexy, lace panties that I peeled off your hot body last night, and if you want them back, you’ll come meet me.
Text me when you wake up and see this, since I don’t have your number and couldn’t find your phone in that suitcase you call a purse. Ha-ha.
I’ll be waiting for your text.
I already miss you.
Love,
Karson.
Well, didn’t she feel like an idiot?
(312) 543-3984: I thought you left without even saying goodbye.
Sitting in the locker room, Karson’s face broke into a grin when he looked at the time after reading the text. It was almost eleven, and it pleased him that Lacey had just woken up. He really put it to her the night before, and man, what a night it was. His body was still humming with aftershocks from the best orgasms of his life. There was something about being buried deep in Lacey Martin that drove him completely senseless. She was unbelievable, sexy, and beyond special.
He had spent the whole morning with his head flooded with thoughts of her. Yeah, it was no different than yesterday, but for some reason, he was actually playing well. He even hit the puck with the stick instead of missing it completely. It was amazing; he felt exceptional and couldn’t wait to see her again. He prayed that she wanted to see him because he needed to see her. He couldn’t get enough of her, and honestly didn’t know how the hell he had survived without her for so long.
He was a dumbass for doing so, that’s for sure. But that would never happen again. Lacey was his. No matter what. Her dad could kiss his ass; he’d give it all up just for her. Anything for her. He had spent too long without her, and it was time for that to stop. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, or even how he was going to make it work, but he was sure they would figure it out.
But for some crazy, fucked-up reason, she had thought that was all about to change. She honestly fell back into her eighteen-year-old self, planning their whole life. It was so easy, so perfect, but so obviously a mistake. As much as she hated to say it, her dad was right. Karson was no good for her.
Ugh, why did she let this happen? She should have pushed him away when he kissed her! She should have kicked him in the balls! She should have said no! She shouldn’t still love him! Why, oh why, was she still so utterly in love with him? When a sob bubbled at the base of her throat, she closed her eyes tightly as it ripped through her, shaking her body.
She loved him because she couldn’t stop if she tried, and boy, had she tried. Over and over again, but she couldn’t let him go. Yeah, he was trouble, but he was her trouble. He’d loved her with a fierceness, one that she hadn’t been able to get over in years. Even though he’d left her and she was mad, she had forgiven him somehow through the years. She couldn’t be mad at someone who, when she looked in his eyes, she knew loved her. Even when he was breaking up with her, she knew he was doing it because he had no choice, or he seriously believed his dumbass reasons, or whatever. She knew he didn’t want to. He wanted to be with her; he just couldn’t, and for some crazy notion, she believed he would come back for her. Yeah, she was mad and wanted to play hockey with his balls, but she never lost the feeling of knowing he loved her. It was her own pride that kept her from finding him and asking him why. She didn’t want to be rejected again, but for some reason, she forgot that because she allowed him to come in again and break her for a second time.
She was downright stupid.
She reached for her pillow to drown her sobs since she didn’t want her neighbor to hear her, which, really, why she cared was beyond her. It wasn’t as if she had ever even seen the guy, and she had been living there for four years. But she didn’t care about that right now; now she wanted to cry and be completely broken that she had lost Karson for a second time. There wouldn’t be a third time though, no matter what. Couldn’t be. The faster he got out of Chicago, the better.
But what if he came back?
She’d slam that door so damn hard and hope that his balls got caught in the process. She wasn’t sure why he was naked in this scenario, but he was, and she hoped she broke his balls like he broke her heart. Asshole.
Maybe she’d go to Canada or Europe? That way she’d never see him, even though that thought had even more sobs bubbling inside her. She was beyond pathetic, but she’d worry about that later. Now she would cry. Now she would feel sorry for herself and wonder why she wasn’t fucking enough. She wouldn’t dare to think it was because of her breasts. No. She wouldn’t do that. He loved her—he did—he was just a fucking coward!
Blinking through the tears, she went to drop her face into the pillow, but something caught her gaze. Wiping her eyes free of tears, she reached for the little piece of paper that was between the mattress and headboard to find it full of messy handwriting.
Handwriting she knew belonged to Karson.
Her heart kicked up in speed as she blinked away the new tears that gathered in her eyes and read the letter.
My Lacey,
I see that you still sleep harder than a rock. I swear, you could sleep through a hockey game if you really wanted, which I know you don’t when I play. Ha-ha. Your eyes are always on me.
Last night was amazing, and I wish that I could have woken up to your gorgeous face grinning at me, but I had to go to morning skate and then do some promotional shit. Believe me, leaving this bed was the last thing I wanted to do, but I really had no choice. I’m sorry, but sorrier because as soon as the game is over, we are flying out to St. Louis. I am going to try to see if I can get a flight in the morning so hopefully, if you want to, you can meet me for drinks tonight. Actually, you have to meet me if I can stay because I stole your expensive, sexy, lace panties that I peeled off your hot body last night, and if you want them back, you’ll come meet me.
Text me when you wake up and see this, since I don’t have your number and couldn’t find your phone in that suitcase you call a purse. Ha-ha.
I’ll be waiting for your text.
I already miss you.
Love,
Karson.
Well, didn’t she feel like an idiot?
(312) 543-3984: I thought you left without even saying goodbye.
Sitting in the locker room, Karson’s face broke into a grin when he looked at the time after reading the text. It was almost eleven, and it pleased him that Lacey had just woken up. He really put it to her the night before, and man, what a night it was. His body was still humming with aftershocks from the best orgasms of his life. There was something about being buried deep in Lacey Martin that drove him completely senseless. She was unbelievable, sexy, and beyond special.
He had spent the whole morning with his head flooded with thoughts of her. Yeah, it was no different than yesterday, but for some reason, he was actually playing well. He even hit the puck with the stick instead of missing it completely. It was amazing; he felt exceptional and couldn’t wait to see her again. He prayed that she wanted to see him because he needed to see her. He couldn’t get enough of her, and honestly didn’t know how the hell he had survived without her for so long.
He was a dumbass for doing so, that’s for sure. But that would never happen again. Lacey was his. No matter what. Her dad could kiss his ass; he’d give it all up just for her. Anything for her. He had spent too long without her, and it was time for that to stop. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, or even how he was going to make it work, but he was sure they would figure it out.
