Page 103 of Hockey Boy

Brooks skates out of the crease and taps me on the back. “You ready for this?”

I throw my weight into him, wrapping him and his bulky gear up. The guy doesn’t even budge. “I’m good, bro. Let’s fucking do this.”

Brooks releases me with a laugh and skates backward, gloved hand pointed at me. “Let’s go.”

War is by my side an instant later. “Remember, let him come after you first. You can’t make the first move.”

“You can’t either,” I remind him.

War’s grin is devilish. “Don’t you worry.”

“You remember your lines, right?”

War rolls his eyes. “To the wall—yeah, I got it.”

I smack him against the chest. “Don’t fuck with the songs, War. It’s how we win games.”

He skates away from me. “No. We win because I toss you the biscuit, Lep.”

I’m readying a quip when I catch a glimpse of pink behind his head. “Move,” I yell, waving wildly and tilting to one side to look around him.

He does a little dance, blocking my view, but when I charge toward him, he skates out of the way.

She hasn’t spotted me yet, so I speed toward the plexiglass and stop with a twist of my ankle, icing the boards. When she still doesn’t see me, right the fuck in front of her, I bang on the glass.

Lennox finally turns my way, her pink lips turning up in a big smile. “Hey, Hockey Boy. Fancy seeing you here,” she yells.

With a twirl of my finger, I motion for her to turn around, but she just raises her eyebrows coyly, as if she has no idea what I want.

Tease.

“Princess,” I growl. I need to see my name on her back. Though I’m loving the way the jersey fits snugly across her breasts. How the Bolts blue makes her irises more vibrant. As I take her in from head to toe, my jersey, a pair of white jeans with slivers of her thighs peeking out beneath the ripped fabric, I catch on a flash of blue in her hair. Amidst the pink, she’s got a tiny blue braid on each side of her head. As she slowly turns, she reveals that the braids meet at the back of her head with a blue ribbon. And she’s wearing my fucking name and number. As I take it all in, theLangfieldemblazoned across her shoulders and the 12 beneath it, my cock thickens beneath my gear.

Just as my gear gets a little uncomfortable, she turns around and winks. “Now go win the game. If you’re lucky, I’ll still be wearing this when you get back to ourroom tonight.”

I’m a simp for this girl. Despite how focused I am on winning tonight, it’s incredibly hard to skate away. So I don’t. I watch her continue on to find her seat until War literally drags me by the back of my jersey to center ice.

I’ll probably be a meme tomorrow, and I couldn’t give two fucks.

My girl’s in my jersey, I’m smiling, and we’re about to kick New York’s ass.

“Sorry, WAGs coming through,”I sing as I shimmy my shoulders, practically dragging Sara through the arena.

She apologizes to each person I push past. I’m obnoxiously excited. It’s my first game as Aiden Langfield’s side piece—I’m testing out different titles; I suppose that one doesn’t work—and it’s the first time I’m wearing his Boston Bolts jersey. I’ve heard all about the magical things that happen to women when they wear these things—orgasms on desks, sex on pianos—I can’t wait to see what the orgasmic jersey fairy will grant me.

Sara tugs on my arm. “Lennox, slow down.”

I practically growl in my pursuit of getting to the ice. The team traveled to New York last night, so Aiden and I spent the night apart. I haven’t seen him in twenty-four hours, and I haven’t had an orgasm in like twenty-four and a half hours. Your girl ishagitated.

Since Gavin and Millie’s wedding, Aiden and I have barely gone a night without fucking. Most of the time, more than once.

Practicing, training, studying, and all the otheringshe has to participate in have kept him busy, but the man still has the stamina to fiddle my skittle every night.

Except for last night, of course. And it’s been a shock to my system.

The guys are finishing warm-ups when we find our seats. I haven’t even settled in, though, before Aiden is banging on the glass. It’s like he’s got a tracker on me. The mere idea of something so psychotic has my blood heating and my skin flushing.

Clearly, I’m sick in the head.

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