Page 52 of Pucking Revenge

Across from me, fork midair, Sara pauses for a heartbeat, then shoves the food into her mouth. After she takes her time chewing, she picks up her glass of red wine. I’ve got a game tomorrow, so I opted for water, but I poured myself a small glass of wine too so she wouldn’t feel awkward.

“Yeah, I’ll stop by and see them during the day.”

“Want me to get tickets for them? I could probably get your brother down on the ice before the game too.”

Sara drops her attention to her plate and shakes her head. “No. They’re not big hockey fans. No need to waste the seats on them.”

“They’re your family, Sar. You could spend more time with them if they came to the game, but if you don’t think they’d enjoy it, that’s fine. Will I get to meet them?”

She looks at me when she shakes her head this time, wearing a tight smile. Clearly, she doesn’t want me to meet them.

I try not to let that truth claw at me. Yes, this relationship is fake, but we’ve been friends for over a year. Why is she so against me meeting her family?

“I just—I don’t want to have to lie to them about us. But I don’t want to tell them the truth either.” She brings her glass to her lips again, but she can’t hide the way her eyes dull as her fake smile slips. “My mom would be so disappointed if she found out about the affair.”

I cup her hand on top of the table and squeeze. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Intentional or not, I slept with another woman’s husband.”

It takes everything in me not to flinch when those words escape her. If I give away the disgust that hits me every time I think about her sleeping with my uncle, it will only make her feel worse. So I take in a deep breath, school my features, and rub my thumb over the back of her hand, focusing on how warm and soft her skin is rather than the images of these hands anywhere near my uncle.

She tips her glass and downs the rest of her wine in one go, then she pulls my glass toward her. “You’re cute pouring yourself a glass so I wouldn’t feel awkward.”

With a laugh, I lean back and watch her. The wine has left her cheeks rosy. God, she looks so damn pretty sitting across from me. “True, you’ve done far more embarrassing things than drink wine by yourself.”

She rolls her eyes and tilts her head. “Ha ha. You are so funny, Brookie baby.”

I grunt at the annoyance stabbing me in the gut. “I thought we settled the nickname thing.”

She licks her lips. Her tongue is stained red from the wine, making her that much more alluring. “Oh, you want me to call you secret lover?”

My dick hardens on the spot. I try to drag my focus away from her mouth, but the sexy smile she aims at me makes it difficult.

“Should I scream that tonight while I come? Make sure your uncle knows it’s you who’s taking me to the edge.”

“Fuck, Sar.” I’m at full mast instantly, and the pain in my chest is so acute I worry I’ll need her to call the team doctor.

She stands and steps toward me, never taking her blazing blue eyes off me. “Or should I yell your name? Or maybe number thirteen?”

I clutch the edge of the table to keep from reaching out for her as she saunters past me. With a hum, she stops behind me, then her lips are grazing the shell of my ear. “Is that what the bunnies yell when you make them come?”

“Sara,” I grit out, my knuckles going white. If I let go now, I’ll reach behind me, pull her over my lap, and spank her ass for turning me on like this when she knows damn well I can’t do anything about it.

“Oh, right,” she whispers, her lips ghosting my neck, sending goose bumps rippling across every inch of my skin. “You don’t fuck during the season.”

The way she says it, enunciating the ck, makes my balls tighten. I want her so goddamn bad I might lose it.

“Brookie it is, I guess.”

Sara’s warmth disappears from my shoulder, and she shifts behind me, as if she’s going back to her spot. Without giving myself time to second-guess the move, I grab her wrist and tug her close. I slap her hand to my chest, making sure her palm is flat against my beating heart. The move is so fast her body collides with my chair and her head snaps back. When she steadies herself, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright.

“You’ll call me Saint when you come, because I’m a goddamn saint for not spreading you across this table right now and eating you until you forget all those goddamn nicknames you love teasing me with.”

Sara gapes for a moment, her lips parted and her chest heaving, but she’s finally speechless. Then she blinks once, twice, three times, and lets out a light laugh. “Saint it is.”

NINETEEN

BROOKS

---