Page 128 of Breakneck Hockey

“Details. The way he’s looking at you—God—it’s giving me shivers.”

“Fuck off, dude.”

He doesn’t fuck off. He’s Jack and he’s gonna fuck with me. I can’t even moan and complain about it because I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to do the same.

“He’s still using you like a chew toy, I see,” he says, rubbing his thumb over Sutter’s favorite gnawing spot on my collarbone. He sucks me there so much, there’s gonna be a permanent stain one day.

“Aaaaand, got it. I know the tattoo.”

“What is it?”

“Not telling. I’m waiting for the declaration.”

“There isn’t gonna be a declaration. We don’t do that shit.” If Sutter and I do end up as boyfriends, which is a big fucking if, we’ll be on our deathbeds still in denial over it.

“Nah. You’re wrong. There’s gonna be a declaration. There’s always a declaration.” He plants a wet kiss on my cheek and moves on, but it’s too late. Sutter’s already up and on his way over.

Possessive bastard.

But now I’m the one with shivers.

“What the fuck was that?” he growls into my ear.

I roll my eyes but allow his beast-like arm around my shoulders. He hops onto the kitchen counter, dragging mebetween his thick legs backward, surrounding me with his smoky aftershave. Ugh, now I just wanna rub myself on him. He drops his arms so they’re hugging my collarbone and he can rest his lips on my neck to stake his claim.

His face lies against my hat, which is actually Jack’s hat. I’m seeing how long it takes for Sutter to notice. Merc noticed right away and while he gave us—me and Jack—dirty looks, he didn’t do anything about it. I have a feeling Sutter will do something about it.

If he ever notices.

“He’s under the radical illusion that we’re going to declare ourselves.” I’m not going anywhere trapped as I am, nor do I want to. I lean back, sinking into him.

“The only thing I’m declaring is my bare dick in your ass, kitten.” His teeth nip at my nape. “Tell Jack to keep his fucking lips and fingers off you, or I will.”

That does all kinds of things to my insides.

Logan and Rhett breeze in the door, bringing the chill air with them. Rhett insisted they needed to watch the snow from the deck. Theo races toward Rhett and jumps. Rhett’s arms are out just in time to catch him.

“What mischief are you up to?” Rhett says.

“Nothin’. You promised we could play Uno.”

“Alright. Get the cards. I’ll partake in that forsaken sport with you for a little while.”

“Yay!” Theo’s feet pound through the kitchen and into the living room.

“Uno’s a card game, not a sport, Rhett,” Sutter corrects.

“You’ve never played it with a Meyer.”

“Sounds fun, actually. Deal us in,” I say, speaking on behalf of Sutter.

“What are you making me do, Alderchuck?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. But if the way Meyers play Monopoly is anything to go by, this could turn into a bloodbath.”

Rhett’s unusually good at dealing with the over-exuberant Theo Meyer. Little Lorelei joins us, making a home as close to Rhett as possible. It’s a good thing Theo’s not twenty-one. I could see him counting cards in Vegas. He’s somehow able to work out what each of us has in our hands. He forms an alliance with Rhett, who’s quick to pull Sutter with them, and I’m the one picking up never-ending amounts of cards.

“That’s a twelve-card pick-up for you, Alderchuck,” Sutter says.

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