Page 35 of The Wildcat

Right now, all I’m thinking about is how much I’d like to be lying in his arms too.

Fuck my life.

“Everly . . .” Cross verbally nudges me.

Oops. “I met your sister today.”

“Really?” He smiles before his brows furrow and wrinkle. “What the hell was she doing in the shop?”

“Most women buy lingerie in a lingerie shop, Cross,” I tease quietly.

“Women buy lingerie for their man to see. Bellamy doesn’t have a man... or a woman.” His smile vanishes from his face.

Now it’s my turn to smile. “Women buy lingerie to feel beautiful for themselves. Not a man. Not a partner. I mean, it’s nice when someone else can appreciate it, but you’ve got to be able to appreciate it for yourself first.”

“Have I told you how incredibly sexy I find your confidence, Everly?” he growls, and I feel the bass in his voice from the very tip of my toes all the way to the top of my head, and it feels divine.

“No... you haven’t mentioned that.” I don’t tell him how much I like that he did.

“It’s incredibly attractive. It’s the first thing I noticed that night in West End. I was listening to the way you were talking to the bartender?—”

“Maddox,” I interrupt.

“Yeah, him. I hadn’t turned to look at you. I was just listening to you spar with him. You exuded confident woman. You didn’t take his shit?—”

“He wasn’t really giving me shit, Cross,” I push back.

“Would you stop interrupting me?” he teases as his voice lazily caresses my warm skin. “This is my memory. And I remember you handing him his ass and thinking,Damn... I need to know that woman.”

“Oh yeah... Well, I guess you got to know me.”

“Pretty sure I didn’t even crack the outer shell yet.”

Jaxon’s tiny, balled-up fist breaks free from the blanket, and he lets out a miserable cry.

“I’ll talk to you later, big man.”

“Night, Cinderella.”

Our call ends, and I drop my phone on the counter, then submerge myself under water, hoping to drown out the noise in my head. Because right now, I’m pretty sure it would be all too easy to fall hard and fast. And I’m not sure I can let myself do that. Not again. Not even for him.

The fifties had the rat pack.

The eighties had the brat pack.

Does our decade have thePuck Pack?

Boone Kent, Ares Wilder, AJ Benson, and Nash Whitters have been spotted out on the town multiple times over the past few weeks. However, last night, they were photographed indulging in good times, good booze, and good-looking friends... Friends made up mainly of the, shall we say,fairer sex.One suchfriendmanaged to snap quite the revealing selfie with a very unclothed Mr. Benson and Mr. Whitters in compromising and slightly uncomfortable-looking positions with herself and one other lucky lady. Rumor has it the Philadelphia Revolution management is less than thrilled. Apparently, not all press is good press. Stay tuned for an update, all you beautiful people.

#KroydonKronicles #PuckPack

CROSS

There’s a reason why I never let myself get out of shape in the offseason... And practices like today are the prime fucking example of why. More than one guy puked up last night’s booze after Coach handed us our asses for hours. Suicides, sprints, and working the damn boards the whole fucking practice, while he bitched about the stupidity of thePuck Pack,pretty much equaled a dumpster-fire practice.

Can’t say I blame Coach for being pissed.

It only takes one or two guys to fuck it up for everyone.

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