Page 98 of Brace and Chase

And I have heard great things about prostates. I always figured I’d let a woman peg me at some point but this seems like a better plan.

Having come to that conclusion, I open the shower door and step in, out of patience. I have very little of it to begin with unless it’s about making Charlie come, but he already took all there was.

“I want you to fuck me eventually, sweetheart,” I tell him to get it out of the way.

“You do?” he asks, spinning around way too fast considering the slippery surface we’re on.

I grab onto his shoulders when he starts to tip, and then snap at him.

“Be careful.”

He frowns at me but nods. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Sorry for startling you,” I grumble.

“It’s fine,” he says softly, like he has a million things going through his head. I’m more simple-minded than him. I just came to a conclusion and I’m going with it, but he has to give everything more thought, consider all the possibilities.

At least that’s what I’ve gathered from getting to know him off the ice. I guess I could be wrong. It’s only been over a month.

“I’m just surprised,” he says finally.

“Why?” I scoff. “I came like a volcano when you touched my ass.”

He stares at me open-mouthed for a moment, and I just move him to the side while he recovers so I can get under the spray as well.

I hear his laugh echo loudly when the water’s cascadingdown my body, and again, I can’t stop from smiling at the sound. I love his laugh. So deep and genuine.

“You just seem like more of a top,” he says finally.

“You done?” I ask, gesturing to the shower. He nods so I turn it off and step out.

“I don’t know about you but I’m intrigued by it.” I continue the conversation, and start drying myself again.

“I’m not sure, honestly.”

“Well, you never have to find out if you don’t want to, but I want to. So maybe we can work on that?” I ask with a waggle of my brows.

“Okay,” he says with a little laugh. I’m glad he’s happy with that.

“Awesome, then next time you blow me you can try sticking a finger up my ass.”

I get exactly what I wanted, his booming laugh.

THIRTY

SWEETHEART

Despite how chillI’ve been feeling about this game the last few days—especially considering I’ve been preoccupied with my brothers and with getting back on track with Nik—I’m a mess of nerves in the locker room before we go out for warmups.

I know my brothers are in the stands, wearing their new Pirates sweaters instead of the old Atlanta ones they had for more than a decade, and that helps.

But it’s Nik, patting my shoulder every other minute, and my teammates giving me encouraging smiles that help me the most.

They help me enough that I don’t fall on my face when I step onto the ice, and I can glide perfectly to the new captain of the Revenge and shake his hand, showing the sportsmanship my father drilled into me since he put me on skates when I was five years old.

I don’t feel even a smidge of regret at leaving Atlanta. I don’t miss any of these guys, which is a bummer in its own unique way really. How could I have spent all of my adult life in that team and not miss them at all?

It’s probably because there was never any sense of belonging in the organization. They changed the front office every few years, and the roster of players even more often. Only the owner has been there longer than I was, and that’s not how it’s supposed to go, is it?

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