Page 103 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

I lower my eyes to her lips, desperate to kiss her again while I wonder how her tongue would look moving along the lines of my muscles.

Up my abs, following the trailing lines of chiseled mass before hitting my pecks and flicking at the metal barbells.

Golden barbells.

“How much I’ve wanted this,” I end up admitting and lean in to gently brush my lips against hers. “You have no idea, Mickey. God… why couldn’t we unlock this five years ago?”

“You…” she whispers and leans back to look into my eyes. “You wanted this five years ago?” She looks to Maddox, who moves away from her neck to meet her curious eyes. “All… of you?”

“Not all,” Maddox admits cautiously. “A few of us had a crush on you, baby girl. God, we loved you hard. Back then, though, we weren’t mature the way we are now. We had to go our separate ways, or else I think we would have destroyed each other to get to keep you.”

He’s right.

I would have fought them all if it meant having Mikayla all to myself. My mind wasn’t like it is now. We were all still boys.

Childish. Selfish. Cared about saving face.

Not until you’re thrown onto a team of men with a list of accomplishments do you realize how insignificant it all is. How competing against those you share a close bond with is utterly stupid.

“But… what makes it different now?” She’s trying to understand it, her face even redder as she tries to break this down into something she can understand.

“Mickey.” My hand is already running through her hair and stilling her head so I can kiss the corner of her lips. “Breathe, Sweetheart.”

She blinks and realizes she’s holding her breath while attempting not to get lost in her own thoughts.

This is a lot of her.

We’re pushing her.

Yet this feels like our only shot to get things rolling before we never get a chance to be alone and face this.

Face the truth that we want a relationship with her.

“We grew up,” Maddox admits. “We know what we want. Not everyone, but Ace just proved he’s interested in more.” He pauses as if he’s considering admitting something else. “Damien wants in.”

“Damien?” I’m a tad surprised because he’s usually open with me about that stuff. Then again, we only started talking to each other more often when we confirmed our hockey placements and had a flight together to get back to Strattonville.

We used to be so close.

Really close.

Then reality threw a curve ball and struck us all out.

“Fuck. He’s sly.”

Maddox smirks.

“He is.”

“So…what about Wolfgang?” she wonders.

Maddox is already sporting his player expression—his hand trailing down the front part of her leg to her knee.

“You want him in, baby girl?”

Our girl really struggles with answering honestly when it revolves around what she wants.

We have to change that.

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