“Great game tonight, Obi.” Will, his best friend and team captain, slapped him on the back and handed him a frosty bottle of Sam Adams.
“Thanks, man.” Finn clinked the neck of his bottle against Will’s. “Not too bad yourself. I mean, not as good as me, obvs. But still decent.”
Will snorted. “Decent. Sure.”
Finn and his geeky best friend were like oil and water, but somehow, they worked. Will studied computer science; Finn studied psychology. Will liked gaming and movies; Finn played sports and loved the great outdoors. Will was a health food nut, and Finn ate like every meal was his last.
Despite their differences, they had been BFFs since they were teens, and considering Finn had little-to-no relationship with his own family, well, the term bromance didn’t quite cover what Will and his family meant to him.
Will’s family. A well-known stir niggled his insides. As though summoned by his thoughts, Will’s younger sister Molly stepped up to the bar and grinned at the bartender. Her dark chestnut waves cascaded over her right shoulder, falling forward to cover her face. Her delicate features were burned into his memory: expressive gray-green eyes, porcelain skin, and signature blood red painted lips.
He’d been there when she’d discovered her obsession with red lipstick. He’d even asked her about it once. She’d told him she was part of some badass, global tribe of rebel women founded online by a burlesque teacher in Iowa. Kick Ass Red Lipstick club – KARL.
Was he staring? Hoping for a glimpse of those pouty red lips? Sure. Did he care that someone might catch him? Like hell. He’d gotten to be a master at staring at Molly Morrison over the years. He’d worked hard to hide his feelings for her under the guise of being a protective big brother figure.
“Finn?” Will elbowed him.
“Mm?” Finn sipped his drink as though he’d just been zoned out, not fixated on his best friend’s sister.
Fixated. That was a great word for it. From the second he’d walked into their backyard as a gangly, red-headed teen, he’d been besotted by her.
“I asked how your knee is. It didn’t seem to bother you on the ice tonight. Or if it did, you hid it well.”
He hid a lot of things well. He’d hurt his knee horsing around on the ice with Austin. That frustratingly strong asshole had gotten the upper hand, and Finn had fallen at an awkward angle, twisting his knee. “I’ve been working with the new physio, Kenzie. She’s got magic hands.”
He chanced another glance at Molly. She’d bought two drinks and leaned over the bar toward a curvy blonde chick. It wasn’t her roommate Cleo, and from behind, he couldn’t tell much more. But from the sparkle in Molly’s eye, and the way she twisted her silky brown hair between her index and middle fingers, he knew all he needed to. She was on a date.
“You’re just going to leave that hanging?” Will took a long pull from his beer.
“What?”
“Kenzie and her magic hands. Dude, are you banging the physio?” He covered his eyes and shook his head.
Wait, what? Finn started, bolting upright. “Banging Kenzie? Fuck no. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s hot in a sassy-southern-belle kinda way. But she’s not my type.”
His type leaned even further forward toward her date, oozing confidence, and owning every ounce of her sexuality. Her slim fingers skimmed up the side of her date’s face, tucking blonde locks behind her ear and trailing her fingers down the woman’s neck. Goosebumps sprung up over his skin, sending shivers along the curve of his ear and down the column of his throat.
Did he care that the woman he’d loved for years was bisexual? Hell no. But the unhappy rock-solid dick pressing along the seam of his jeans was epically pissed that Molly wasn’t sandwiched between him and the blonde.
He shifted on his stool. He hated wearing underwear unless it was absolutely necessary – like the playoffs when he wore his lucky Calvin Kleins. He preferred not to be contained, to let his junk hang free, but in moments like this, it would have been great to have another layer between his raging hardon and the unforgiving denim.
“I thought every beautiful woman was your type.”
“What?”
Will shook his head. “Where the hell is your head at tonight, man? I said I thought every beautiful woman was your type.”
“Usually. But I don’t fuck where I eat. I need Kenzie’s magic hands to keep me in the game. I don’t want to ruin that by giving her a taste of the big D. Y’know?”
“Right.” Will nodded. “Because if you did that, she’d want more, and you’re just not that kinda guy.”
“You know it.”
“Cocky bastard.”
“Confident.” Finn raised his bottle in an exaggerated gesture before taking a sip. The cold liquid soothed his irritation as it trickled down his throat. He needed a distraction. Something… someone… to take his mind off the fact Mini Mo had her tongue down the blonde’s throat, and all he wanted to do was fuck her from behind while she did so.
He cleared his throat and took another drink. Sure, he’d be beating one off in the shower as soon as he got back to the hockey house. Maybe two. And maybe if he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that all he wanted from Molly Morrison was her body – but his dick and his heart would both call bullshit.
