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The corners of his mouth begin to dip into a frown. “But I do.”
“But you do not need to,” I repeat. He opens his mouth, but I grab his wrist. “Brayden is my boyfriend.” Zane winces. “We’re together, and, and I love him, Zane.”
His entire body is tense, but he nods and says, “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”
I’m not so sure I believe him. At least, he’s not happy for himself. I let go of his wrist. The bartender finally brings my drink. I turn to leave Zane at the bar and see Brayden standing a foot away. I keep walking, not wanting to alert Zane to his presence. I grab his hand and pull him toward the table. Brayden’s squeezes mine hard.
Did he hear what I said? Did I actually say what I think I said? Or maybe he’s only pissed because he found me talking to Zane again? Brayden tugs on my hand to stop me from sitting down. He sits and pulls me into his lap. My body melts against his when he kisses my neck. That’s a good sign.
“I ordered us food,” he murmurs as I take a sip of my drink. “Is it time to say I told you so?”
“Not the place,” I reply. Zane returns to the table. Should I get my own seat? Wouldn’t that be the nice thing to do? When my hips shift, Brayden grabs them to keep me in place.
“What happened to my jersey?” His hands slide over my arms.
“This table is getting enough attention as it is.” I took it off and left it in my car, not wanting to sit with a group of hockey players wearing a jersey and have people think I’m some sort of groupie or something.
“Hey, what are hockey groupies called?”
“Puck bunnies,” Cal answers. He sits next to us. A slow grin forms on his lips. “They aren’t too bad on occasion.”
His brother rolls his eyes at that. “What about that one who wanted to know if we’d both fuck her at the same time? Is she included in the group of those who aren’t ‘too bad?’”
“She was crazy,” he agrees.
Three waitresses come with food and distract everyone. A huge plate is set before Brayden and me. I can’t believe Brayden ordered this. I glance over my shoulder at him.
“You ordered this?” I motion to the biggest burger I’ve ever seen with onion rings and fried pickles as sides.
“Just for you,” he says as I grab a fried pickle. “And that was before I heard that you love me.”
I nearly choke on the fried pickle, which only makes Brayden laugh as he pats my back and I get curious looks from his teammates. I grab my drink and take three gulps. Then, I elbow him in the gut. That is so not cool. Here I was thinking he didn’t hear me after all and he drops that bomb on me while I’m eating? He’s mean.
“Sorry, darlin’. Bad timing.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I glare at him. “You’re an asshole.”
He grins, leans forward, and I fall apart when his lips brush over my ear. “An asshole you love, Deanna.”
“Unfortunately,” I mumble, but all it does is make him laugh.
***
I started to wonder what was taking Deanna so long when Zane left the table. But it was shortly after that when I started glancing around and saw the two of them at the bar, talking. Deanna had to let him down again. While there was a small satisfaction at being right, I didn’t like it.
Then, I heard what she said. I teased her the entire night and then convinced her to come home with me again. If Deanna listened to me, she’s lying naked in my bed right now while I walk Otis one last time for the night. I told her to start without me. My mind now runs rampant with images of her pleasuring herself and thinking of me, waiting for me.
“And, and I love him, Zane.”
That one part repeats in my head. Not once has she told me this, but the way she said it, it was almost as if she just realized it herself. And she tells fucking Zane before me. That kid really pisses me off; I don’t know how much more I can take of him pining after my woman. But maybe now he’ll leave well enough alone.
“Otis, hurry the fuck up,” I demand, but he pays me no mind. He wanders around the yard with me in tow like we have all the time in the world. At this rate, Deanna will be asleep by the time we get up there. “Finally!” I grumble. Otis trots toward the door.
I hear a moan as I set the alarm for the night. What the fuck is she doing up there? She’s not supposed to be having that good of a time all by herself. I free Otis and jog up the stairs, hearing another moan. Upon entering my room, however, I stop short. Deanna lies there with her hands behind her head and her ankles crossed. My eyes roam over her body while I try to understand what I see.
She laughs at my confused expression. “About time.”
“Those were fake moans?” I stand at the foot of the bed and begin to shed my clothes. The view of her body short-circuits my brain, especially with her watching me with her eyelids low and her breasts rising and falling with her every breath.
