Her pretty lips curved when she found me staring, she knew how damn good she looked. With grace and sex appeal I didn’t know she had, she walked down the aisle like she owned thewhole damn rink. None of us were even worthy enough to breathe the same air.
And all I could think about was how her pretty thighs trembled around my hand when I rubbed her clit in slow, lazy circles while Eli pushed his finger deep inside of her.
I fumbled a puck passed to me and cursed under my breath.
Eli skated by, smirking, “Eyes up, Saw.”
He’d seen her too. Of course, he had. We didn’t share much in life, not in personality traits, or wardrobe styles—hell, we didn’t even like the same teams in the NHL. But Frankie?
She was in both of our systems now.
I took another lap, slammed a shot into the boards harder than I meant to, and let the thrum in my chest tighten until it felt like it might crack open. Eli took a cheap shot against my shoulder, catching me off guard once again, and laughed as he skated away.
I didn’t want to fight him.
But I’d bury him in the ice to get to her first.
The game started, and the entire first period passed by in a blur. I barely even registered the score as I skated around, knocking guys on their asses for the fun of it.
Frankie sat in the middle of a row tucked behind our bench with her legs crossed and that look on her face. The one that screamed how hard she was trying not to be obvious.
But every time I hit the boards, she looked at me. Every time Eli stole the puck and raced by her to go shoot on goal, she watched him.
It was torture, and heaven.
Midway through the second period, we got a line change, and I didn’t hesitate to make a move. I skated straight to the glass and pressed my glove against it, locking eyes with her. “Having fun yet?” I mouthed.
She bit her lip and nodded slowly.
Fuck.
Two shifts later, Eli did the same, leaning over the bench to mutter something through the gap in the glass right in front of her. I didn’t catch the words from the ice, but I saw her reaction.
Flushed cheeks.
Shaky breath.
Thighs slowly shifting under her.
She was breaking. Slowly. Gloriously.
And as soon as our game was over, we were going to ruin her all over again.
The final buzzer sounded,breaking us free of the torment we’d endured all game. We won, but just barely. Rick was yelling something obscene from the bench about our poor excuse for skilled plays, yet I couldn’t care less.
The second we hit the tunnel, I pulled off my gloves, yanked my helmet free and turned to Travis, who eyed me. “She’s minetonight.” He said hungrily, the need behind it was visible enough to almost make me question if he’d let me near her.
Almost.
I just grinned, “You scored, but I sat my ass in that penalty box for her. You think I’m not coming? I’m at least going to watch.”
Twenty minutes later, fresh from the shower, we walked out together, bags forgotten and left in our lockers. Frankie stood outside the back hallway door, waiting for us. The loud noise from the bar up in the lobby echoed through the hall, but the locker rooms were empty this time of night and as if on cue, the second she saw us, the lights on the ice dimmed, signaling the shutdown for the night.
She crossed her arms, but her eyes revealed her true emotions - wild, filled with nerves and longing.
“I thought you were going to kill each other out there.” She murmured.
I stepped in fast, crowding her against the opposite wall and pinning her with my hips. “We still might,” I said low with a growl. “We’re both high on adrenaline and testosterone.”
