BREAKING THE ICE: FALLING FOR MY BULLY

Chapter 3: Responsive

Lily's POV

"Answer it," Drake said, his voice low with amusement. "Or he'll come looking."

My phone buzzed on the dash, Jax's name glowing in the dim cab. I was still trying to catch my breath, pulse unsteady, the aftershocks working through me in slow waves. Drake leaned back against the seat, watching me with that dark satisfaction he wore so easily, wiping his hand on his jeans without looking away.

I hit accept. "Hey. What's up?"

"Where are you?" Jax's tone was clipped. "We need to talk. About Drake."

I glanced sideways. Drake's eyes stayed on me, heavy and unhurried. "I'm just out. Can it wait?"

"No. Get home." He hung up.

Drake let out a low, quiet laugh. "Big brother's on the hunt." His fingers brushed my thigh one last time, deliberate. "Better not keep him waiting, mouse."

I slipped out of the truck on unsteady legs. The cool air hit me and did absolutely nothing.

Jax was in the lobby when I got back, arms crossed, jaw set. He looked me over once — the loose hair, the color still in my cheeks — and his eyes narrowed.

"You look different," he said. "Again."

Emma was out when we got upstairs. Jax paced while I sat on the edge of my bed, working to keep my expression neutral.

"What's going on with you?" he said. "New clothes, skipping study groups, and now you're showing up flushed at ten o'clock on a Tuesday."

"I've been working out. Trying to get stronger."

"Bullsht." He stopped pacing. "I saw you at the game, smiling at the ice like you had some kind of secret. And people are talking, Lily. Saying my sister's mixed up with someone she shouldn't be."

My pulse jumped. I kept my face still. "People make stuff up when they're bored."

He sat beside me, voice dropping. "Look, I know how bad the stuff with Sarah has been. I know you want it to stop. But don't do something reckless just to feel like it's fixed." He paused. "If this has anything to do with Drake—"

"It doesn't." The words came too fast.

His expression shifted. "Why'd you say his name?"

A knock at the door — Emma, home earlier than expected. The conversation died there, unfinished, but Jax's stare followed me the rest of the night.

I got better at the in-between. Texting back at the right intervals, showing up to the things that mattered, keeping my face arranged just right. Drake and I moved through the next week in snatched hours — early mornings at the gym, evenings that started with training and ended somewhere else entirely.

Midweek he took me to the woods for a run, the path cutting deep enough that we were out of sight of everything. The sun pressed through the trees in slanted bars, sweat building fast. My new tank clung to my skin, and I was aware in a way I hadn't been a month ago — the new muscle in my legs, the way I moved differently now, less like I was trying to disappear.

He ran just behind me, close enough that I could hear him breathing. Then he surged ahead, laughing, taunting me to catch up.

I did. I don't know where it came from, but I tackled him sideways into the trunk of a wide oak, and then somehow the positions reversed — his body pressing me into the bark, one hand braced by my head, looking down at me with an expression I felt in my stomach.

"Caught you," he said, and kissed me.

It wasn't soft. It was teeth and pressure and his hand pushing under my top, thumb rolling over my n****e until I gasped against his mouth. My hips moved on instinct, seeking friction. He gave it, rocking into me, letting me feel what I did to him.

"Mine to shape," he murmured against my throat. His teeth grazed the skin there, just firm enough to sting.

The walk back was slower. His hands found reasons to correct my form — palms at my hips, fingers too close to my inner thigh. I let him. Every time.

Later that week he took me to a lingerie store, moving through the racks with calm certainty and dropping things into my arms without asking. In the fitting room he slipped in behind me, eyes dark in the narrow mirror, his chest at my back.

"That one," he said quietly. His hand curved over my hip, fingers pressing flat against the lace. "Wear it tomorrow."

I wore it.

Campus had shifted in ways that were hard to quantify. Guys held doors and held eye contact. A guy from my history lecture asked to borrow my notes and smiled in a way that lingered. Sarah caught me in the bathroom, her sneer arriving half a second late, her words landing with less force than they used to. I held her gaze until she looked away first.

Jax pulled me aside after practice. "You're different," he said, studying my face. "Confident. It's good, I just—" He stopped. "Drake's been running his mouth. Saying things I don't like."

Thrill and unease twisted together. I told him not to worry about it.

The party was Jax's idea. A frat house on the east side of campus, music bleeding through the walls before we even reached the porch. I'd been there an hour when Drake appeared, his team arriving loud and inevitable. His eyes found me across the room in the way they always did — like the crowd wasn't there.

He made his way over without hurrying. Took my wrist and guided me toward a dim corner, his hand warm at the small of my back.

"Missed this," he said, mouth brushing my ear. His hand slid to my outer thigh, fingers finding the hem of my skirt. I exhaled against his shoulder, head dropping slightly. His grip tightened, possessive. "Every guy in here has been watching you."

"Drake—"

"They can look." His lips moved against my jaw. "But this is mine."

From somewhere across the room, Jax's voice cut through the music. "Lily? Where'd you go?"

Drake went still. His mouth stayed in my ear. "Tell him you're busy," he said quietly.

"Or I will."