Page 81 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

“Of course, you did,” I note with a shake of my head.

Maddox always wants to be prepared, which is why he’s one step ahead, ready to confirm his immense knowledge and leaving everyone speechless when he knows every rule and regulation and can answer any question like some sort of never-ending encyclopedia.

“Got a problem, Augustus?”

Why he gotta use that authoritative voice? Does he know the power it holds?

“Nope,” I assure him and put my hands up in defeat for added measure. “Don’t want to fight you. You’ll do some odd challenge like what’s Rule Number 705 in section E or some crazy shit.”

“That dives into the section in regard to fighting on the ice during games and—“

“Maddox.”

That man is looking at Mishka like a hawk ready to dive and capture its meal for the day.

“He wasn’t being serious,” she teases with a playful smirk.

“Ah, right.” Maddox begins to blush before he groans. “I’m so used to people questioning me for shit that it just happened. My bad, Wolfgang.”

That’s true. People love to question individuals who look like Maddox and me.Bad boys who don’t know shit but got into the league of hockey because of our buff bodies and fierce looks. That’s the assumption in comparison to Damien and Ace, who have the typical “hockey” look. They weren’t as buff as Maddox and me, but when they walked into a room, you just got good impressions from them without a second thought.

While we get questioned about whether we’re part of a gang or the Russian mafia. Lovely.

“I appreciate you guys for helping me then,” Mishka brings up as she reaches down to pick up the box in front of her. “It made the move really fast. I think there’s only one or two more things I need from my place, but I can get it over the weekend.”

“Mishka,” I begin as I walk over to her. “What did I say about lifting?”

“It’s light,” she argues, even though the slight shake in her arms screams otherwise.

She wants some control of the situation, although that box probably weighs a ton.

Instead of going in front of her where Maddox is, I sweep from behind and have my arms along hers and my hands helping her grip the box that’s heavy as hell.

“Pucking hell, Mishka! Give me this heavy shit.”

“No,” she complains and takes a step forward while forgetting Maddox is right there.

He grunts at the collision, but of course, crashing into this 6’5” giant does nothing to budge him from his place. Instead, Mishka gasps and takes a step back, the weight shifting against her, which has her losing balance.

“Fuck!” I curse and get her immediately before we fall back onto the couch.

She lowers right onto my lap, my hands immediately gripping her waist protectively in hopes of moving her further against me to miss the falling box she was holding.

I’m grateful for Maddox’s speedy reflexes.

He’s now holding the box that’s inches from the floor, his eyes on us and beginning to shimmer down from their concern when he sees Mikayla didn’t get hurt and is sitting on my lap.

“Okay, I didn’t think it was going to be that heavy the longer I held it,” Mishka mutters to herself.

I dare to lean over enough to see how red her face is while she’s trying to calm her breathing and clue in on exactly why she’s a bit winded. My arm wraps around her stomach, allowing her to further rest against me as I lean forward to whisper in her left ear.

“Breathe for me, Mishka.”

I wonder if my voice does things to her like the way Maddox’s voice did.

Sometimes, I feel like men envied my voice because of how deep it was in tone, but Maddox could speak in a sexier husky voice that would get any woman to their knees to worship him for all eternity.

If he can get me on my knees, he can get any woman he desires.

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