Page 36 of Dirty Secret (Slayers Hockey 1)

It feels like fucking everything.

Five minutes later we’ve got another win. We’re that much closer to making the playoffs.

The guys are jacked in the locker room because this was the best kind of win. One we had to work like hell for. It could have gone either way at any point in the game. But at every turn, we pulled it out.

I get to my phone and see texts from Travis telling me he got wood watching that last play and he’d bet his left nut all the guys over in Oregon did too. He wants to meet with me this week. There’s more but I’ll read it later. Now I’m scrolling through the texts my girl sent during the game, laughing at her blow-by-blow accounts of action I was a part of on the ice and then checking over my shoulder and shielding the screen when I get toward the end.

Allie: That shot was insane—there couldn’t have been more than an inch give on either side!

Allie: I am so hot for you right now. The dirty things running through my head would make you blush.

Holy shit, I want to know what she’s thinking. I want details. But all I’ve got is my own imagination running off the rails with dirty images of all the things I’m going to do to her.

Allie: There is no way I’m going to be able to make it through an hour at the bar without ripping your clothes off and jumping you in front of everyone. Go, have fun. Then meet me after.

Fuck the bar. The only reason I show up is to see her.

Me: That shot earned me clothes-ripping points, huh?

Allie: We’re talking a buttons-everywhere, shirt-in-tatters level event. Maybe switch out the suit for something you don’t care about before you come over.

Jesus, I need to adjust my jock.

Me: This suit needs to be replaced anyway. The only thing I care about is celebrating with you.

Two meaty paws land on my shoulders and then I’ve got O’Brian hanging off my back like a fucking monkey. A two hundred-plus-pound monkey with lightning-fast reflexes and two assists from tonight’s game.

“We’re gonna be beating the babes off tonight, man. Every piece at the Five Hole is going to be lining up with knee pads and ChapStick just begging for the chance to get on our junk.”

I can feel my junk doing a retreat at the thought. There’s only one ChapStick girl I’m interested in, and it’s got nothing to do with her getting on her knees. Though damn, now that I’m thinking about it—don’t think about it. Not here. Not with her fucking brother less than ten feet away.

“Sorry, man,” I say, shaking him off my back. “I gotta bail.”

Head rocked back, he blows out a long breath. “Dude, you don’t get it. What happened tonight was magic.” He leans in closer, wrapping his arms around me from behind, and croons, “Tell me you felt it too.”

I laugh, shrugging him off again to pull on my shirt. “Yeah, I felt it.”

It wasn’t like it used to be with Garcia. Not really. Though, if I’m being honest, it was pretty close. Different, but not really less.

It felt fucking good.

“That’s what I’m talking about.We’re a team.Together we are greater than the sum of our parts, man. That goes for on the ice and off. Hell, after that play tonight, the girls would do anything if we were together.Anything.”

I turn around, lining up my tie, and hell, the hope and desperation in this guy’s eyes is priceless. “Has it occurred to you that maybe this kind of talk is why you can’t get a normal girl to date you?”

“Oh, yeah. But still. Think about it.Anything.”

And now I’m really laughing. “Quinn, I don’t want to think about whatever fucked-up kinky shit you think you can’t get a bunny to do for you on any given Tuesday. Especially if it’s exclusive to me being a part of the deal.”

He blinks at me and for a second, I think he might be about to pull me in for a kiss or something, because I don’t even know what that gleam in his eyes is.

“You called meQuinn,” he says like some chick hearing the L-word for the first time. I almost feel bad for backing out on the bar tonight, not because I’d be interested in anything with anyone but my girl. But because this feels good.

From across the locker room Baxter covers one ear, holding his phone up to the other. “Nat! What do you mean you aren’t coming? Rux promised to shower and everything.”

I turn back to suit up, buttoning my jacket as I fight the grin pushing at my lips. Ruxton Meyers and a couple other guys are making a bunch of disappointed noises before Greg shushes them. “Damn, you need a ride?… Uh-huh, yeah, thanks, Goon… Okay, feel better.”

I grab my gear and sling it over my shoulder. I turn to wish O’Brian good luck tonight, but instead of the goofy dumbass crawling all over me from a minute ago, I find all humor gone as the guy’s eyes shift from Baxter back to me.

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