Page 23 of Daring the Defender

Trash in hand, he continues toward the back door. I make my way back to the table across the bar with the distinct feeling that if tonight has taught me anything, I’m not prepared for college bars, and as nice as they are, college women like Nadia and Twyler, but most of all I’m definitely not ready for college men.

8

Reid

There’sa certain kind of energy needed for an off campus party and I’m not sure that after confronting my ex, three periods of intense hockey, and a surprise visit from my family, that I’ve got it.

“You want another beer?”

I look down at the girl glued to my side. Mara. She’s a sophomore who has spent the last year working her way into the hockey crowd, and the last few weeks working on me. She’s been next to me since Jeff and I walked through the door when she pressed a cold beer into my hand, attached herself like a parasite, and hasn’t budged since.

“I’m good,” I tell her. Reese has this one drink policy during the season, and I try to stick to it, especially when I feel like doing something stupid, and right now, stupidity is really tempting. If I’m going to do something dumb, I may as well remember it.

“Or,” she leans into me, tits pressed to my side, “if you want a little more privacy, we can head to my room upstairs.”

Jefferson abandoned me fifteen minutes after we walked in the door, a girl on each side. My friend probably has the right idea, there are worse ways to feel better than burying myself into this puck bunny.

Except… I can see it in Mara’s dark brown eyes. She doesn’t want a conquest. She’s looking for a relationship. That’s the curse of being an athlete who is known for monogamy. Every girl looks at you like they could very well be the next WAG.

Sorry, girls, I’m done with serious relationships. Those only happen in fairy tales.

Mara shifts, giving me a view straight down the front of her shirt. Christ.

Fuck it. She wants something and I want something. Why am I overthinking it?

“Why go upstairs?” I place a hand on her backside and urge her closer. There’s no bigger fuckboy move than a little PDA. She grins, seemingly into it, and slings a leg over my hip.

Eye-to-eye she runs a pointed, manicured nail over my bottom lip. “Did you get this in the game?”

“What’s hotter, a busted lip from the game or one from a fight with my roommate?”

She shrugs. “They’re both sexy.”

I pull her closer, wanting to feel the weight of her on top of me. “Sounds like a win-win to me.”

“I’ve heard things about you, Reid Wilder,” she says, kissing her way up my neck.

“Oh yeah? What kind of things?” I wait for the tingle of want. For the urge of desire to take over the dark gloom in my chest.

“That you’re sweet.” she says. “And this is the first time you’ve been single in a while.”

“No lies detected,” I laugh, skimming my fingers along her bare thigh. “Anything else?”

“That you’re normally not the typical fuckboy hockey player that comes to parties like this to hook up, but you’re nursing a broken heart.” Placing her hands on my chest, she grinds down. “Good thing I’m pre-med, I can mend you right up.”

Jesus that feels good, or, well, it should. Her hot pussy is rubbing up and down my cock but other than a half-chub in response, my body isn’t working.

Maybe she’s right. I am broken.

A flicker of an emotion tugs at my gut, but it’s when her lips are inches from mine, and a different face flashes in my mind, that a jolt of regret hits me. “Shit, sorry babe.” I lift her back up. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

“But–”

“Hey, it’s not you.” I stand, adjusting my shorts and grabbing my jacket off the back of the couch. “It is one thousand percent me. You said it. I may be a little bit broken.”

She pouts, but I turn away, not sure why I feel bad for having this girl in my lap, and definitely not sure why the person I thought about while some chick was grinding on my dick was Axel’s little sister.

Yeah, that’s not great.

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