“You should bethankingme for not telling your coach and the Rebels what you and Nate did.”
“Get off me!” He punches my chest again. But different from on the ice, there aren’t any pads in the way, just my undershirt clinging to my sweaty skin. I can feel the warmth of his palms through the thin material.
With an annoyed growl I grab for his hands with my free one, build myself further up.
“I hope you know that I’m not keeping my mouth shut because we’re going to be teammates. It’s only because of Nate that I’m not saying anything that could get you both banned from the league!”
“Like I give a shit that we aren’t BFFs? At least I wasn’t the one who got us thrown off the ice!”
“We got thrown off the ice because you’re an asshole!”
“Takes one to know one,” Nicko sneers up at me, his eyes impossibly green, slicing into me like shards of a wine bottle.
“I liked you better when you pretended to be Nate.”
“Are you sure about that?” There’s that challenging glint in his eyes again, the one that I always knew wasn’t Nate. And just like all those times before, it makes my stomach fall through the floor.
Fuck.
“No.” The word slips over my lips before I can think twice about it. But there’s no mistaking the way my heart jumps when he pulls me closer. I didn’t even notice when I let go of his hand in order to stem my own against the wall behind him. The fingers of Nicko’s left curl around my wrist where I’m still grabbing his jersey. His other hand wanders onto my neck, digging in.
All the while his eyes are burning into me, keeping me trapped. I resist the pull of his hand, but my traitorous eyes flick down to his lips.
Nicko smashes our mouths together with so much force our teeth clash. But then his lips mold against mine, just like they did at that party, unlike the hard-headed man they belong to. For a moment, heat and the tickle of his breath against my cheeks is all I can focus on, then he catches my bottom one between his teeth.
The spark of pain sends a jolt through every single one of my nerves like I’m being electrocuted. I’m not a blushing virgin, but Nicko doesn’t kiss like one either.
He takes my breath away by swiping his tongue against the seam of my lips, prompting me to open up to him. Then he pushes in without waiting for permission.
I groan lowly as our tongues slide together.
My brain struggles to keep up, but my body is happily taking over, effortlessly turning all that hot burning anger into smoldering arousal. My hands are wandering over Nicko’s body, ruled only by instinct, grabbing as much of him as I can, pushing under his pads. One reaches up to bury in his hair, which is almost as soft as before, even as some of the strands are stuck together with sweat.
I tug and his mouth breaks away from mine with a harsh gasp.
For a second, I’m searching for his eyes, feeling a moan slip from my own throat when he looks at me, pupils blown wide, leaving only a thin ring of green.
Then he slowly tips his head back, pulling on my neck again. His throat is delicate and pale, with faint veins running along the sides. I lean in to trace my lips down along the soft skin, inhaling deeply.
Nicko, December 1st
Hart’s tongue licks languidly over the throbbing vein in my neck before he bites down on the pulse point. A yelp leaves my throat as I grab for his arms, my fingers digging into his biceps, probably giving him bruises for days.
I breathe out heavily as the sharp pain echoes through my body, my toes curling inside my socks. I’m not sure if it’s from pleasure or pain. I ache from the intense game, but at the same time, my dick gives a twitch inside its protective cup.
“Fucker,” I curse as he draws back with a smug grin.
“Payback’s a bitch, Van der Second.” It’s a short-lived triumph since I use that moment of distraction to push my leg between his knees, flipping us around. Hart’s back hits the wall with a thud, blue eyes going wide in surprise. His naked thigh brushes my own, the hard shell of his cup pressing against my groin. I swallow thickly while my gaze is stuck on his parted lips, red and swollen from the untamed way we kissed.
I grit my teeth against the feeling of lust that is swirling in my stomach, mixing there with the barely suppressed rage I experience every time we meet.
Of course, that bastard came here to lecture me about tainting his white vest, because Alexander Hart could never do anything to get thrown off the ice.
The sheer nerve of this guy makes me want to punch him in the face, but the way his hot breath caresses my clammy skin short-circuits my brain. My hands lift from his arms, hovering in the air for a split second, caught between wanting to pound his head into the wall and pull him closer.
For a heartbeat we just stare at each other, green colliding with blue.
“Asshole!” I hiss, when I realize my common sense is losing the battle against the temporary insanity that has taken over me.
