Page 32 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
It’s a well-known fact that Fletcher Ferguson doesn’t talk about sex with Reese. I admire the hell out of him for it. I’veplayed with plenty of guys who did the opposite; it’s disrespectful as fuck, if you ask me. Your relationship with your wife—hell, even your serious girlfriend—should be sacred, not locker-room gossip.
“One day, man. One day we’re going to discover what Reese does to keep you in a perpetual good mood.”
Fletch chuckles but doesn’t agree to anything.
“But while we wait for that day to come, I think we need to discuss last night with Rivers.”
Turning my back on both of them, I pretend to look busy. It’s never going to work, but I try nonetheless.
“Yeah, she was banging,” Linc says, trying to bait me.
I clench my jaw as an image of her dancing with him flickers through my mind.
I have no doubt he’d have tried his luck with her if I hadn’t gotten there first.
Linc is a player in every sense of the word. A woman as beautiful as my troublemaker wouldn’t stand a chance.
She’s not yours, a little voice pipes up.
It was a one-night thing. She said so herself…
My cell burns a hole in my pocket.
I still haven’t turned it on for fear of what might be written about me this morning.
“Not often I miss my chance with the hottest girl at a party because of Rivers.”
Irritation burns through my veins, but I refuse to take the bait.
“Of course, it’s not too late. I’m sure she’d appreciate experiencing a real man after spending the night with him. Something tells me he’s better at scoring on the ice than he is in bed. And she looked like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.”
My shoulders tighten with my need to say something, but I swallow my words.
Doing so will give me away.
“Storm,” Fletch warns.
“What was her name, Rivers?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I seethe before pulling my hoodie over my head and throwing it onto the bench.
“Unless, of course, I’m wrong. Unless youareseeing her again,” he taunts.
Pulling my water bottle from my bag, I squirt some into my mouth before spinning around to glare at Storm.
“None of your fucking business,” I state, my eyes locked on Linc’s.
His fucking smirk is so cocky, my fist curls with the need to wipe it from his face.
“Come on, bro,” he teases. “Who is she? And was she as banging in bed as she was in that dress? That was where you slipped off to, right?”
“She is none of your fucking business,” I repeat.
“Oh, you totally banged her,” Linc states smugly. “Dude, I’m seriously delighted for you. Although, I would have hoped it would have chilled you out a bit. You’re tense as fuck.”
“I’m tired,” I mutter.
“Fucking knew she’d be a wild one. It was in her eyes.”
