Page 55 of Falling for the Pucking Bad Boy

“You manage it well,” I compliment. “A lot better than I would.”

“Well, just so you know, we support you both with this. There are no hard feelings here. But, if you fuck him over, we’ll be having another kind of conversation. He’s a good guy. He might have a reputation, but I’ve never seen him act this way before with anyone. Which is vulnerable for him and an act I thought I’d never see, to be honest with you.”

“I’m…flattered.”

“You should be.” He pushes his chair back and rises to his feet, towering over me, and I know a subtle challenge when I see one. “Don’t go breakin’ my boy’s heart, alright?”

I’ll try not to, I say to myself, but I respond with a nod.

Faced with Cyrus's towering presence, I feel his protective instinct, a palpable force trying to protect his brother on the ice and his friend.

His words hang between us, a blend of warning and implicit trust for me, someone he doesn’t know.

I then muster up my resolve. "I have no intentions of breaking Wells’s heart. I…like him. A lot.”

Cyrus scrutinizes me momentarily, looking for any hint of insincerity. He must find the honesty he's looking for because his posture relaxes just a fraction, his stance a little less like a soldier.

"Good," he states. "Because the team's a family, and now you're a part of that. We take care of our own. And we hate drama.”

“Only on the ice, got it.”

“Even then…” With a nod of acknowledgment, Cyrus heads back to join the others, leaving me to contemplate the unspoken promise I've just made.

It's clear now that with my connection to Wells, I've unwittingly woven myself into this team’s fabric, a fiercely loyal and unexpectedly welcoming community. And I’m starting to realize that, maybe, I’ll belong here too.

Wouldn’t that be something?

***

“Not bad, Killer. Not bad at all,” I say as I enter the posh hotel room. The room is simple but elegant. Black leather couches are centered in a large entertainment room. There’s a huge TV, a billiards table, a full bar, and a view of Boston to die for. The low lighting sets the mood for our time together, and I cannot wait to have his hands all over me.

I turn around to say something else, but before I can utter a word, his lips are on mine.

His scent is intoxicating, and I’m quickly lost in his embrace. He pulls his lips away from me, and my eyes remain closed, hoping the break will be short. “Would you like a drink?” he whispers in my ear.

I catch my breath and open my eyes to see him smiling down at me.

“Just some water, please. I think I had enough alcohol at the bowling alley.”

“You got it.” He rushes into the kitchen and pulls out two bottles of water. He grabs two glasses from a cabinet.

“Oh, I can just drink from the bottle.”

“Oh no, you can’t,” he chides as he walks over to me. “We’re not in the bowling alley anymore. This is top shelf, baby,” he continues as he hands me the glass.

“Thanks.”

I walk over to the leather couches as I take a drink. He follows closely behind me as I put my glass on the coffee table.

“Watch this,” he smiles as he takes the remote off the table and clicks it into the air. Suddenly, we are surrounded by dim, purple light, and I am in awe of the view again.

“Impressive!” I smile at him.

Grabbing his hand, I walk him to the window to admire the city.

“Isn't Boston beautiful?”

“It is. But I'm not interested in Boston right now.”

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