Page 19 of Lovestruck

I’ve been on the athletics route since high school. I enjoy the cheer of the crowd, the smell of the ice, and the crisp air on my skin. When my blades touch the ice, I feel free. I love the fame and the team environment. Punching dicks on the ice and getting nothing more than two minutes in the box is icing on the package.

Stephen is focused on order, quieting his mind, and practicing yoga for god’s sake. He’s fully entrenched in the Botoxed, glitz and glam, red carpet L.A. lifestyle, yet he’s ignoring the literal waves of sex rolling off half these women. Before tonight, I didn’t believe he still knew how to have fun. Hell, I’m still worried I’m going to have to convince him that a place serving fruity drinks to hot women shouldn’t be scoffed at.

Rather than focus on women, since he’s clearly not in the game tonight, we talk sports and basic shit. I tell him about the last game I got to play, and he tells me about the show he’s gearing up for. We keep drinking and finally he asks about my injury.

I shrug. “Some dudes fight dirty. Pulled my arm out of the socket, but I didn’t want to stop playing. Apparently, that only made it worse. Then the concussions—I’ve had one too many. At least no one can say I’m a pussy.”

“Sorry, man. I know the pain of missing out because of an injury. Being benched is awful, no matter what you do for a living.”

We nod at the group of three women at the bar. They’re all pretty, definite tens, but the blonde practically knocks the wind out of me when she flashes a smile at another girl. Wavy blonde hair, killer body, and confidence that radiated off her.

“Want another drink?”

“Pretty sure one of us should be the designated driver.”

“You’re rich. Call a limo.” I snort and practically drag him to the bar. He needs to get laid and I need to get laid and we both deserve a shot.

Stephen glances at the bar, and a nervous smile spreads over his face. “You know what, another drink might be nice.”

He orders an old-fashioned and I take a Scotch on the rocks. Just as I lift the drink to my mouth, I glance at the blonde again. My eyes slide over her, like I’m taking in a movie. I don’t want it to end. Her curves have curves, and I imagine her legs would wrap around me so perfectly. I can practically see her moaning as I help her shed that fucking dress.

She slides up next to me and I break out in goose bumps. My whole body feels like someone just lit me up. No woman has ever made me nervous, until right fucking now. I take a drink and set it down. A few guys approach, but she ignores them and looks at my glass.

“Is that a Scotch?”

I swallow my nerves and put on a camera-ready smile. “Good eye. Black Label. The only Scotch worth drinking,” I say with a smile.

She smiles, her red lips turning up in a way that makes me feel like I’ve been shot in the face. “You’ve obviously never been to Scotland.”

“I know enough to avoid it—where men are men and the sheep are nervous.” I wink at her, happily ready to talk trash.

She laughs and I swear I fucking feel it. My cock comes to life, eager to hear every other sound she can make.

“So, here to find trouble?” she continues.

Forget my fucking killjoy brother. This girl is worth his shitty attitude. “Nah. I’m here to start it.”

“Are you sure? You seem pretty tame to me.” She shrugs, but her lips wrap around the straw of her drink. I see her tongue curl around it as her cheeks go pink.

Jesus fucking Christ, this woman is sex on a stick.

“Sweetheart, I’d love to show you exactly how wild a night can get. But I’m not sure you can handle it.”

“I can handle plenty.” Electricity bounces between us.

I look over the bar for Stephen. He’s off in a corner talking to some waitress, I think.

“In fact, I’d love a distraction right now. See my friends?” She leans close to me, close enough I can smell that delicious perfume that reminds me of a tropical beach. She points at a brunette and a tan Asian woman who are giggling and talking with four guys. “They’re celebrating, but they think I’m a party pooper.”

“How long have they been drinking to think that?” I brush my hand down her back and feel her lean against it. “I see plenty of party potential in you,” I say inches from her lips.

“Well, I’ll have to be careful with you. Looks like you’ve already partied too hard,” she purrs pointing to my sling.

The conversation continues. We tease and avoid sharing any personal details, and she seems genuinely interested in me and not because I’m Stephen’s little brother or because I’m a hockey god.

Her friends come up, trying to drag her into a dance. I smile at her. “Seems like the fun has found you.”

“Save me.” She giggles.

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