Bound by Obsession (Shadowed Souls #2)

5. Chapter Five

“ W ell, that was a bust,” Huxley slams the precinct doors open. He’s down the stone steps, his movements jerky and fists balled. I can hear what his mind is thinking as if he were screaming it in my face. I told you we should have come last night. We should have been here.

As if I was supposed to know Wyatt would be let out before eight in the morning and whisked away. The officers wouldn’t give us any information on what exactly happened, just that a lawyer had posted his bail and taken him ‘home’. I can’t imagine Nixon would send a lawyer with the instructions to take Wyatt to the one place he’s been telling us to avoid, but I’ve given up questioning these things. I’m just being pushed from pillar to post these days, along for the ride if nothing else.

Despite sleeping like the dead last night, exhaustion is heavy in my body. I’m lethargic, struggling to voice to those around me that I’ve had enough. I’m done. In the space of half a year, I’ve lost all of those I relied upon. I can’t even get in contact with Meg, her end of year responsibilities at college most likely keeping her busy.

And although the Shadowed Souls are doing their best to keep my spirits high, they’ve never known me like this. The girl who needs to take a step back and wallow in bed, to read and escape from reality until she’s resolute enough to resurface. It happens sometimes; a coping mechanism is what Keren would call it. I just know it as a young child who spent hours, sometimes days, locked away and needing to rely on her own imagination to keep going. Faced with the uncertainty I’m currently living in, I just need time.

“Well,” Garrett stretches his lower back by sticking his crotch too far forward, “I don’t know about you guys but I need to burn off some steam.”

“Where are you going now?” Axel groans as Dax mutters, “Someone get this guy a leash.” Now there’s a suggestion. Garrett has already started walking away, turning mid-step to face us still standing by the police station.

“There’s a gym nearby. What do you say, you sexy beasts? Fancy working up a sweat with me?” Garrett wags his eyebrows at us all. I bite down a smile, hating how easily he does this to me every time. One minute I’m contemplating falling into literary limbo, and now I’m biting my inner cheek and acting as if I wouldn’t follow Garrett to the ends of the earth. Wherever he goes, whatever he’s doing, it’s sure to be one hell of a ride.

I take a few steps in his direction, much to his delight, when Huxley’s sharp tone stops me. “You can’t seriously be going to work out at a time like this? Wyatt is fuck knows where and we need to be on high alert for…” I glance back at Hux. He does his very best not to look at me and fails, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. For my apparent stalker to stop hiding and make his next move. The ball is in his court.

“Relax, big guy,” Garrett doesn’t seem to notice any tension between the rest of us. “The second those photos hit the morning papers, Nixon would have dragged Wyatt out of his cell so fast, he’ll need a chiropractor to fix his whiplash. I have no doubt Wyatt is getting an ear-full and drinking whiskey for breakfast. He’ll come back to us soon enough.”

Huxley doesn’t seem convinced but doesn’t argue any further. His gaze returns to mine, as if to say, ‘you should be on my side’ . I cross my arms, my hip popping to the side.

“Have you got any better ideas?” I ask, preparing for this fight. It’s been a while coming, and as much as I’d hoped we could avoid it altogether, it’s becoming apparent we’ll need to hash it out soon. Garrett closes the distance between us, dragging me into his side.

“If it helps, this particular gym has a basketball court which I happened to reserve this morning. I thought there would be five of us to play, but it looks like you’ll have to substitute for us, Peach. I guess an unskilled Hughes is better than none.”

“Rude,” I purse my lips. Garrett’s smile grows wider. “I have a very particular set of skills which makes me a nightmare for people like you.” His laughter echoes around the street, a full bellied sound which dislodges the birds from the sidewalk’s planted trees. Turning, we’re then walking in time with each other’s steps.

“And what kind of person am I, Peach?” Garrett murmurs into my ear. His raw voice spirals through me, my core clenching on instinct.

“A self-centered jackass with more confidence than sense,” I manage to deliver evenly. I expected him to reel back and deny it, but instead, he presses even closer, the crease of his smile against my neck.

“God, you make me so hard.”

***

Exiting the female changing rooms, I can already hear the repetitive sound of a basketball bouncing. I wrestle the tags out of my workout shirt and shorts, having just purchased them in the upstairs sports store. Tossing them into a trash can and tackling my hair into a high ponytail, I emerge onto the court in time to see Dax dunk the ball into the hoop. Regaining control of the ball, he dribbles up and down the court while I enjoy the view far too much.

Wearing loose shorts, white sneakers and nothing else, I drool over the rippling muscles of his abdomen. With each twist of his tanned body, his chest flexes and pulls taut. Even the hardness of his calves are affecting me as he runs across the wooden surface. His icy blue eyes latch onto mine, halting his solo game as he catches the ball and walks towards me.

“Have you been staring at me?” He cocks a brow, coming close enough to force my head back. I copy his playful smile, pushing the butterflies aside. Dax never ceases to affect me this way. In the rare moments we get to be alone, it feels like the whole world fades away, leaving just the two of us. His full lips are a few inches away, reachable if I were to tiptoe, but I’ve never been one to play easy-to-get.

“Of course not. I was just wondering how you don’t have any game, considering you play for a team.” Throwing his head back on a laugh, his Adam’s apple bobs. I clamp my mouth shut in fear my tongue will get ideas of tracing over his smooth skin. Stroking his fingers along the length of mine, Dax beckons me onto the court.

“Well, well, Little Swan. You have the talk, but let’s see if you can back it up, shall we?” Bouncing the ball towards me, I catch it easily and dribble it in a circle around him. I stop when we are face to face again and smirk.

“What?” I cock my head at his raised brows. “Did you really think I lived in a manor with its own personal court, and never practiced shooting a ball?” I mock, turning to throw the ball towards the hoop. Bouncing off the backboard, it slips into the net with a satisfying ‘swoosh’. Grinning to myself that I managed to pull that off with an audience, I don’t hear Dax move until his whisper breathes into my ear.

“No using the backboard in my rules.” His hands smooth around the front of my T-shirt, holding my waist as he presses his body against my back. Suddenly hot for a very different reason than excursion, I focus on keeping still. Dax places small kisses behind my ear.

“Dax,” I breathe heavily.

“Yes, Avery?”

“Is this you finally pushing to the front of the line?” I lean back into his chest, savoring the warmth that seeps into me. I haven’t forgotten what Dax said at the roller disco, how he’d be content holding himself back and letting the others take center stage. He’s given me space to explore and settle into their dynamic, but I want more. I want to see his selfish side. “I’ve been waiting.” Dax’s chuckle vibrates through my back.

Shifting his hands, one trails up the inside of my arm before coming to rest lightly across my collar-bone while the other winds around my body to hold me in place. “If I catch you using that backboard again, traveling with or carrying the ball, there will be punishments.” He mutters seductively, grinding his crotch against my ass.

“Are we expecting Garrett, or did you drug and stuff him in a locker?” I push back and roll my hips. Two can play at this game. Dax groans quietly.

“I don’t need Garrett to enforce punishments. I’m capable enough all by myself.” Proving his point, Dax’s hand at my collar bone dips south, into my sports bra. He rolls my nipple tightly, tugging until I whimper. My head drops back, exposing my neck to his mouth. “And to answer your other question; the last time I saw them, the guys were arguing in the shop about which shade of green goes best with Axel’s eyes.” I smile at this.

“Even Huxley?” I ask, managing to keep the quiver from my voice. Dax moves onto my other breast, grabbing me roughly. I gasp. Finally . This is the Dax I’ve been needing, one who takes what he wants instead of waiting for me to ask. Taking his hand, I dip his fingers into my short’s waistband.

“I think he needed an outlet for his frustrations. He was strictly Team Olive.” Those long fingers find my clit as if they’ve memorized the way, shifting in small circles. I push up onto my tiptoes then, wanting every inch of my body connected with Dax’s.

“And what about you?” I turn my head into his neck. His fingers enter me slowly.

“I don’t necessarily care for the color green.” He shrugs, too invested in following the cues of my body. I turn, momentarily dislodging his hands. Those devilish fingers are straight back where I want them, Dax’s other hand now cradling my ass.

“No. Do you need an outlet?” I blink up, my eyes growing hazy with need. Dax’s mouth remains an inch from mine, his fingers skating over my pussy. The heel of his palm applies delicious pressure to my clit and unashamedly, I bear down into him.

“Are you offering me one?” Dax wets his lips. He watches me intently, absorbing my every expression. He has me a writhing mess of need already and he’s barely done anything.

“Always,” I vow. A small smile passes over Dax’s features, making him all the more handsome. How did I get so lucky? The hand on my ass jerks me impossibly forward, closing every gap between us. The movement jostles his hand over my cunt, which is already soaking wet. Crashing our lips together, Dax’s kiss is short, leaving me chasing for more.

“I wish I could give you what you’re yearning for,” Dax says into my ear, our cheeks pressed firmly together. “But unfortunately, I was recently told I don’t have any game.” In the next second, he’s halfway across the court retrieving the ball while I’m left stumbling for stability, clenching my thighs and panting. Oh, that bastard played me like a freaking fiddle.

“Go get him, Peach!” Garrett suddenly calls out. He, Axel and Huxley are sitting in the middle of the bleachers, varying expressions of lust and curiosity settling on their faces. I blush furiously. Not only did they watch what just happened, including my rejection, without my knowledge, but now they want to watch me play a sport I’m no good at. Gritting my teeth, I huff through my nose.

Never one to back down from a challenge, like the one shining in Dax’s eyes, I step between his asshole-ish smirk and the hoop. I’m getting all sides of Dax today. Keeping my eyes focused on his body language, I notice a slight tremble in his right knee. Ballet training sure comes in useful for noticing weak ligaments. Following my instincts, I lunge right while he fakes left and steal the ball from right beneath his huge hand. The shock on his face makes me laugh as I step out of his grasp and shoot the ball straight over his head. The orange sphere circles the hoop twice before dropping through the middle. The guys in the bleachers roar with cheers and laughter, Garrett reclining on the bench before he falls off it.

Collecting the ball, I round the court while bouncing it beneath my palm and resuming the position Dax was just in. He swiftly changes tactics, which somehow isn’t against his own rules. Pretending to yawn, he stretches one arm behind his head while the other hand trails down his washboard abs to the waistband of his shorts. Pushing the material down slightly to reveal a hint of curls nested underneath, my mouth goes dry at the display. Holy mother of heavy balls, he looks hot. He almost succeeds in unhinging my focus, using every tool in his arsenal and my libido is his target. Biting my lip hard, I do what any logical, rational person in this situation would.

Throwing the ball into his gut, Dax grunts as I retrieve the ball from the ground and continue to make my way to the hoop. Lifting the ball above my head with one hand to aim, Dax plucks it from my grip and chuckles as I attempt to get it back. Lowering it back into my reach, I try to swipe it but he’s too fast for me, twisting around to shoot the ball straight into the net.

“Nice recovery,” I praise. Dax is the image of self-assurance. On the court, he’s the boss. The king even. I deflate my shoulders. “Too bad you just scored in my net.” Dax’s face falls and again, those howls of laughter echo around the arena. I’m fairly certain Garrett is close to laughing out a lung.

I run towards the ball, until Dax grabs my waist and tosses me aside so he can get there first. “No fair!” I shout, not that I’m surprised. Everything about this mini one-on-one has included foul play. But if that’s the way he wants it, I’m only too happy to deliver. I grip the hem of my T-shirt and pull it over my head. A black sports bra that enhances my cleavage distracts Dax long enough for me to lunge at him, after a different type of ball this time. I grab his crotch, resulting in a high-pitched yelp.

The ‘thump, thump, thump’ as Dax drops the basketball is music to my ears, having the intended effect. Feigning innocence, I pretend not to feel his cock beginning to harden. Did I just unleash a new kink?

“We have something in common, you and I,” I grin menacingly. Genuine fear crosses Dax’s face and I almost take pity on him. “When you break my rules, you also get punished.” Before I can carry out any further squeezing, tattooed arms band around me from behind. Garrett holds me tight whilst Axel carefully extracts my hand from Dax’s testicles.

“I love watching you dominate all of the balls on the court, Peach,” Garrett chuckles into my ear. “If I’m a good boy, do I get my turn to be manhandled too?” Twisting myself free, I look him over and cock a single brow.

“Nah, you’d enjoy it way too much,” I grin, brushing our arms as I pass by. Huxley hands over my discarded T-shirt, an unspoken truce between us. At least, I hope it is. My smile grows wicked, the power I’m gifted by their lingering stares bordering dangerous. “I’d prefer to watch you all sweat for me.”

Like Garrett, their eyes track me the entire way to the bleachers, hungry like predators. Despite reclining into the seat, I sit proud and gesture for their game to begin. Watching them fumble over each other, a mess of horniness and testosterone, is comical but I manage to keep a straight face. Just about.