I’m not sure if he’s curious or just confused, but he’s attracted to me.
He opened his mouth for me like averygood boy that day when he was drunk. After that, he came so hard when I spanked his ass only a little.
And while that falls well within my plan, my reaction to him doesnot.
It’s just…I didn’t expect how viscerally I’d feel for him.
I like my fuck buddies silent and obedient. Preston is neither. He’s such a disrespectful loudmouth, and so far from my type, it should be a turn-off.
And yet he’s the first person my dick has come alive to without himhavingto touch it.
As I said. Acomplication.
One I won’t allow to ruin my course of action.
I throw my duffle bag over my shoulder, grab my stick, and head through the entrance.
It’s been over five minutes. That should be enough time to give him space.
The moment I walk into the locker room, I pause, my fingers tightening on the sling of my duffle bag.
Preston is standing in front of his locker, naked except for tight black boxer briefs that barely fit him, rummaging around inside.
Taut legs that go for miles, all defined and sculpted from years of conditioning training. It doesn’t show in hockeyclothes, but he’s actually quite muscular—big, proportionate, and with the most beautiful, lean, sculpted waist.
But the thing that stops me in my tracks is the snake.
A creepily detailed serpent that’s inked across his entire right half, its tail coiling around his arm near the wrist, winding up his bicep and shoulder, wrapping across his back in multiple loops before reappearing along his ribs and abs. Its head rests low on his hips, snarling from just above the waistband of his boxer briefs.
It’s…riveting. Just like the man wearing it.
Beautiful. Dangerous. Pretending to be whole.
I wonder if the snake means something—especially paired with the yin and yang behind his ear—or if these were symbols he collected because he thought they looked cool when he chose his tattoos.
There are scars, too. Pale lines scattered across his back, old and fresh, like he’s a walking target.
How the hell do they raise their children in this hellish town?
I tap my thumb against my middle finger while I take him in. He’s…unusually unguarded right now. He left the door open behind him, so he must have known I’d follow—yet nothing about him is tense.
He’s simply standing there, unaware of how much the sight of him provokes my inner demon.
Certainly, he didn’t think I’d run away just because he was a little violent.
A little freaked out.
Nearly choked himself with his stick.
I suppose someone else would have left. Lucky for him, I’mnotsomeone else.
He retrieves his compression shirt and pauses but doesn’tlook at me. “Tell anyone about what you just saw, and I’ll pluck your eyes out and use them as earrings.”
“Aw, you want to keep me on you forever?”
He releases a tsking sound as he tilts his head in my direction and glares at me. Preston probably doesn’t realize how adorable he is when spouting his homicidal gibberish.
He also doesn’t know that he lets me into his head so easily. I know exactly the right buttons to push to provoke such a reaction in him toward me.
