Page 36 of Iced Out

His laughter rings out as he leans in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, “Really? Cause I’d love to get a taste of your animosity.”

I push him away on instinct, now more annoyed than turned on at the cavalier way he carries himself. Cocky bastard.

Pulling at the sheets on my bed, I slide in without looking at him and mutter, “Just shut up and go to bed.”

I hear his deep chuckle from behind my back when I roll over, setting another round of irritating lust through me before he clicks off the light.

“Aye, aye, Cappy.”

Twelve

Quinton

Anticipation has been churning inside me at an all-time high this week, and not just because of the games against Fall River the next two days. It should be the main reason for my intestines doing somersaults as I lace up my skates for practice this afternoon, but nope.

It’s the stare I feel firmly fixated on my ass as I bend over that’s got my blood thrumming in my veins.

Lifting my shoulder slightly, I peek behind me from under my arm in time to catch Oakley’s gaze locked on my back side. No doubt thinking about all the dirty things he plans to do to me later tonight, the same way I am with him.

A smirk sits on my lips when he realizes I’ve seen him checking me out, and a slight blush colors his cheeks before he quickly looks away.

That just won’t do.

I wanna see the embarrassment tinting his face after being caught eye-fucking me in the locker room with all of our teammates around. It adds another layer to this rivalry between us, at least in my mind. Instead of how much I can piss him off, I’ll see how red I can make him turn.

Don’t get me wrong, I can still feel the hatred from him when he looks at me, along with what’s sure to be an unhealthy dose of animosity. But now, there’s something else too.

Interest, maybe.

Sexual tension, definitely.

Whatever else besides that is only making this newfoundthingbetween us much more complicated. Even if it’s a friends-with-benefits situation. Or enemies.

That’s why I know this could end one of two ways.

This might be the best idea I’ve ever had, and we could keep riding this wave—and each other’s faces—all the way to the Frozen Four. Or this could cause shit between us to get even worse, possibly more awkward, and could implode.

Either way, the anticipation is higher than a pothead on 420.

A hand lands on my shoulder as I attempt to dig my keys out from where they’ve played hide and seek in my duffle. It startles me, almost making me jump out of my skin since I thought I was the last one here.

I was counting on it to give Oakley some time to drop off his shit at his apartment before coming over so I wouldn’t be pacing around while I waited for him to show up.

Anticipation has turned out to be a real fucking bitch.

But as I spin around to find him standing here scaring the shit out of me instead, I realize my plan is screwed—and not in a fun way.

Once my heart stops pounding a mile a minute, I raise my brow at him. “I thought you were meeting me at my place?”

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, he shrugs. All sheepish-like, matching the guilty expression he has painted on his face. It has my hackles rising. Spidey-senses tingling. Aggravation surging through me.

My arms fold over each other. “Just say it.”

Two brown eyes sink closed, and he sighs. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

I shouldn’t be surprised. On some level, I knew this was coming. That this would never make it past the planning stages. But it doesn’t lessen my disappointment…or frustration. Neither of which make any fucking sense, but they’re there nonetheless.

My jaw ticks with clear irritation as I hike the duffle strap over my shoulder. “You’re backing out.”

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