Page 35 of College Hockey Bully

With that, he gently eases me aside and takes over the trolley. Ignoring my protest, he pushes it down the slope. Shaking my head, I follow him down to the rink where he sets the trolley by the benches. All eyes are trained in our direction, but he seems unaffected by the attention. Giving me a wink, he makes his way over to the team.

I’m mind boggled, still trying to understand what just happened. Aiden being nice to me is up there with the likelihood of aliens taking over earth. Wonders will never cease, I guess.

After going about my other tasks, I return to the rink close to the end of their practice. Aiden is currently in possession of the puck, darting across the ice with a speed that blurs his figure. He swipes it to Odean, then zips around another player in time for Odean to send it back.

I know nothing about hockey, nor do I care to learn about it, but I’ll sit for ages watching Aiden play. His asshole behavior aside, he’s clearly talented, evident just by how many times he slammed that puck to the back of the net.

And how amazing he looks doing it, too.

I drop myself on the bench as the coach blows the whistle and beckons to a player. While they talk, Aiden removes the helmet and wipes the sweat from his forehead in what looks like slow motion from where I sit. It’s conflicting. I’m disgusted at myself for fantasizing about a guy I can’t stand, but I can’t stop.I’ve lost count of how many times I imagined Aiden doing things to my body with those fingers. I can’t recall how many times I’ve orgasmed while fucking those fingers in my head.

Long, thick,hardfingers.

My body rocks on the bench in an attempt to soothe the sudden ache between my legs. I wonder if his cock—

A sudden yell brings me back to reality. I stand in a rush as Aiden goes down, his body sailing across the ice. He collides with the fence with a thud that evokes several curses and shouts. Half of the team rushes over, blocking my vision. When it’s clear, I see Noah and Cameron moving with him, his arms thrown over their shoulders.

It’s weird that I feel such resounding relief that he’s okay. Sitting back on the bench, I watch as the medic tends to him. Soon, he’s right back on his feet, reaching for the skates they’d taken off earlier.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Coach demands. “Becker, take Aiden’s place. Aiden, sit this one out.”

“Like hell I will,” Aiden grunts, yanking on the right skate.

Coach huffs. “Is it me, or didn’t you just slam that two-hundred-pound body into that fence? A muscle might be sprained or worse.”

“I feel perfectly fine.”

“Aiden—”

“Coach, I’m good.” He stands with a grin, then pats Becker on his back. “Better luck next time, dude.”

He goes off and takes his place in the center and play resumes without a hitch. When they’re finally done, I steer the igloo over to them, then get out of their way, glad that they don’tacknowledge me. Once the igloo is empty, I haul it back on the trolley and push it toward the exit. From the corner of my eye, I notice Aiden watching me.

“You look much better,” Melissa comments cheerfully as I sign out for the day. “Watching those hunks going at it on the ice will do that to you, huh?”

I smile in response before walking out. She’s five-percent right. Watching that dark-haired hunk play will distract anyone from their problems, even if he is the problem.

After stopping by the recycling club for our monthly meeting, I turn my thoughts toward home. Dark-grey skies are a sign I need to hurry. I absolutely hate riding when it’s dark. I set the bag fully on my back and hurry across the front lawns, taking a shortcut to the bike stand.

Halfway there, I see him.

Aiden makes his way along an adjoining path, heading in the same direction. His strides are unusually slow, almost gingerly. When he’s almost at the end, I catch it.

A slight limp.

He stops, takes a deep breath, then moves on, walking much slower. Without thinking too much of it, I hurry to catch up with him. He startles when I pull up to his side.

“Goddamn it, Scarlett. You almost gave me a heart attack,” he grumbles. “What do you want?”

The fact that he’s so grumpy after making ‘peace’ with me earlier, it definitely confirms what I suspect. “Put that ankle in cold water until it gets warm,” I advise, and his frown deepens.

“Why would I do that?”

Yep. I guessed right. He doesn’t want anyone to know.

“You have a muscle strain, at least,” I point out quietly.

Aiden’s brows raise, then awareness fills his face. “You study physiology. Of course.”

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