Page 34 of Pucking Revenge

Oh shit. The girl has a crush on the new star. She may only be twenty-six, but he’s twenty-three. The Bolts recruited him while he was still in college. He helped us win the Cup last year while getting his degree online.

“All right. Let’s head to the game.” I zip up my bag and tuck it under one arm, then turn for the door. “Oh.” I whip around so fast the ends of my ponytail whack me in the face. “Since you’ll probably hear all about it when we get there, I might as well tell you now. I’m dating Brooks.”

With that, I rush out of the bathroom, leaving her shrieking in excitement after me.

Not gonna lie, this is kind of fun.

It’s not hard to come by a Langfield jersey. Especially number 13. Brooks, unsurprisingly, is a fan favorite.

Normally I wear a suit to the games. I keep it professional like the team does before and after every game. Tonight, I’m in jeans. The casual clothing will totally piss Seb off, but it won’t make him nearly as angry as the number emblazoned on my back.

I almost said no when Brooks suggested the revenge dating scenario. A ploy like this is typically beneath him. The man is so buttoned up and proper and, well, good. The revenge plan is something Lennox and I would have cooked up in college, but these days, I’ve risen above that kind of pettiness. Or so I thought.

When I waltz down the hallway outside the locker rooms, decked out in a blue jersey over a long-sleeve white shirt, I can’t contain the huge smile that consumes my face knowing how pissed Seb will be.

“Case! What are you doing wearing Langfield’s jersey? You know you’d look so much better with Warren on your back.”

I spin around, ready to hit the right winger with a witty comeback, and almost stumble over my own feet. Just outside the door leading to the locker rooms are War, Aiden, and Brooks. It’s the way Brooks is standing, I think, that short circuited my brain—feet planted wide, hands in the pockets of his dress pants. Or maybe it’s how his suit strains against his shoulders as he studies me. Lips parted—like he too has lost his words—green eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them and laser focused on my tits.

Stupefied, I drop my chin and follow his gaze. Oh. It’s on the jersey. Definitely the jersey. Why would he be looking at my tits?

“Turn around.” The command he grits out sounds like sex talking. Like literal sex just dripped down my leg and spoke those words.

With a thick swallow, I scan the hall to make sure he’s talking to me, unable to believe my sweet Brookie would use that tone with me.

Aiden’s lips twitch, and War’s gaze bounces from me to Brooks and back again.

Brooks? He’s frozen in place, like I’ve ensnared him in a trap I didn’t know I’d set and he’s tracking my every movement. My every breath.

He moves closer, and the wide hallway narrows. With every step he takes, the space continues to shrink and my body heats another degree.

“I said turn around, Pumpkin.” There it is again, that tone full of nothing but sex.

Holy fuck. My best friend has a sex operator voice.

Would he be up for recording himself for me?Ugh. I’ll have to ask later, because he’s so close I can see the way his chest is heaving with every breath.

“It’s like you want to be punished.” His voice is softer now, but not any less alluring.

With one hand, he grasps my wrist and tugs me closer. Then he steps around me, his dress shoes clicking on the concrete floor. His grip is tight but not painful as he circles me, still holding me in place. Then his free hand is between my shoulder blades, his heat soaking through the jersey into my skin. He slides it down my back slowly, warming me as he goes, until he grips my hip.

“Fuck, you look good with my name on your back,” he rasps against the sensitive skin of my neck, sending goose bumps skittering down my spine.

The gentle kiss that follows is so surprising I suck in a breath.

Is it possible the oxygen is restricted down here below the arena? I’m suddenly dizzy. Overheated.

I pinch the fabric of my jersey and pull at it, desperate for air. “God, did they turn up the heat in here?”

Aiden covers his mouth to muffle a laugh.

War is watching us with wide eyes, like we’re a damn circus act. “It’s freezing down here. It’s always freezing down here.” He shakes his head. “What the fuck is going on with you two?”

Brooks tightens his hold on my hip and pulls until my back is flush with his chest. “She’ll only be wearing Langfield on her back from now on.”

Holy shit. Who is this man? I twist at the waist, since he’s yet to release his hold on me, and come face to face with the cockiest fucking smirk I’ve ever seen. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely,” he mutters.

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