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Christ…
When was the last time I came all over myself like a prepubescent teen?
High school maybe?
Sophomore year more specifically?
I didn’t think it was even possible to get that turned on. I mean, come on. I’m a twenty-two-year-old man who’s been having regular sex since I was sixteen. And I’ve had a lot of it. There’s never been a shortage of available pussy.
When she’d joked about being with another girl…
Now there’s an image I’ll have a tough time evicting from my brain. Then again, the idea of sharing her doesn’t appeal to me. Even if it is with another chick. I want her all to myself. I want her attention solely focused on me when we’re together.
That’s the precise moment I realize—
That thought is knocked from my brain when someone trucks into me from the side and the puck gets knocked loose as I catch myself from landing on my ass.
Barely.
By the time I have my wits about me, Madden scoops up the small black disk and speeds off before I can even think about catching the fucker.
I turn and glare at the guy who’s ground to a stop in front of me, spraying ice in my face.
Maverick.
I blink in surprise when he knocks a gloved fist into my chest.
“What the hell is up with you and my sister?”
I should have known this was coming. I saw the way he was watching us at the bar. Even before we stepped foot out of the arena the other night, I knew his antenna had been raised.
“Nothing.” The lie pops out of my mouth before I can stop it.
What exactly am I supposed to say?
The truth?
Ha!
The guy would definitely give me a beatdown right here in the middle of the ice. And unlike some of these other guys, Maverick knows how to throw a punch. Brody had us both take boxing lessons while we were freshmen in high school for just this reason. He’d wanted us to know how to take a hit and give one in return. We’re evenly matched in height and weight. We’ve spent hours sparring in their basement gym. Although, to be fair, Mav has righteous anger on his side.
That’ll win out every time.
He narrows his eyes from behind his cage. “Didn’t look like nothing to me.” Before I can respond, he grits out, “She was sitting on your lap.”
“There weren’t any available chairs. You saw how packed the place was.”
He presses his lips together. “And then you sang karaoke? Since when do you get up on stage and perform?”
I shrug and continue to lie my ass off. “She didn’t want to do it alone. It was nothing. We’re friends.”
He lifts his chin, trying to poke holes through my excuses. “Since when? You two have never been friends.” He knocks his glove into my chest again before reversing on his skates. His gaze stays locked on mine. “Do us both a favor and stay away from Juliette. She doesn’t need you messing with her.”
And then, he swings around and skates back to the other side of the ice.
Fuck.
Maverick is the last person I want to have issues with. We’ve always been solid. Friends and teammates since kindergarten. That’s not a relationship I want to jeopardize.
