Page 6 of Rules

My penance and salvation all wrapped into one tiny girl I’m not even sure I know.

Her nails scratch my skin, making me hiss as my groin meets hers.

“Yes, just like…” I run my hands down her sides, feeling the soft curves. Gripping the round globes of her ass, I grind our hips together, feeling her hotness even through the layers separating us.

“M-more…”

Our movements are frantic as we try to feel more of each other. One of my hands slips underneath her shirt, trailing her soft stomach, brushing the underside of her boob, feeling its weight in my palm before I give it a firm squeeze.

She mumbles something incomprehensible, her hands scratching down my back. And it takes everything in me not to rip our clothes off and get lost in her tight little body.

“Gosh, Lia, you’re driving me crazy…”

My hips continue grinding against hers, hand unclasping her bra so I can slip my fingers beneath the material and grip at her soft flesh without any barriers. My fingers pinch her nipple, the bud reacting to my touch instantly.

And then her hands push against my chest.

“What the—”

I stumble backward, falling on my ass as she quickly wobbles back to her feet. It takes me a moment to lift my head because my mind is spinning. Maybe it’s the alcohol still running through my veins or maybe it’s because those fervent kisses deprived me of oxygen for too long.

My eyes narrow as I try to see clearly. The blond wig is crooked. Her red lipstick smeared around her mouth from our kisses. Her mouth pressed in a thin line.

Displeasure? Anger? Resignation?

The fuck if I know. I’m not even sure what I did wrong. One moment we were grinding against one another and the next…

“Fuck…”

The realization of what I did hits me like a train wreck. I rub my hand over my face, trying to wrap my head around how I could be so stupid to… no, just no.

Suddenly completely sober, I force myself to lift my gaze and actually look at her. Look at herface. Eyes that looked somewhat familiar only moments ago—a pair of deep-set, field-green emeralds—are like a punch to my gut, making me double over.

“B-brook,” I stutter, looking at her, completely stupefied.What the hell have I done?“I’m…”

Her whole body is tense, face hard as she looks down at me. Moments ago, she was melting in my arms, and now I can see walls closing around her.

“This”—she wiggles her finger between the two of us, a cold, serious expression on her face—“never happened.”

She shakes her head from above, and then without giving me a chance to explain, not that I’d know what to say to make this even remotely right, she turns around and walks away.

Another frustrated swipe over my face leaves red smudges on my fingertips. Her lipstick. My hand forms a fist, and as it falls down I let it punch the floor, enjoying the sting that runs through my hand from the impact.

“Fuck, just… fuck!”

Chapter Two

MAX

“Sanders.” When I hear my name called, I lift my head and meet Coach’s reflection in the mirror. “My office. Now.”

Some of the guys give me wary looks before they return to their reps. Straightening from the lunge, I put down the weights in my hands and grab my towel, wiping at my sweaty face.

Hockey season is in full swing now, and the coach is working us hard. Gym before classes, ice time after. Not that we mind. Everybody here knows what’s at stake, and if we want to go to the playoffs and play in the Ice Globe Tournament, we have to be in the best possible shape.

I’m not sure what Coach wants from me; it’s not like he makes a habit of asking us to stop by his office. If he does, he either needs something or he’s going to give us a piece of his mind. And since I am fairly certain I didn’t mess anything up... I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

Exiting the gym, I walk down the hall and knock once lightly on his open door. “Coach?”

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