Page 19 of Home for the Hockey-Days

That’s not fair. I saw the lust in his eyes, everyone did. I don’t think he even tried to hide it. Then what? What stopped him from being a decent human being when he spied me at the party?

I heave out a sigh, tossing and turning on the smooth, cool hotel sheets.

Maybe hereallyliked his car.

Shit. My tummy aches. Maybe it’s more than that, maybe he really needed his piece of crap car, and I took that from him. Damnit. Okay, fine, he has plenty of reason to be pissy at me if it’s about the car. But if it’s about my ex and the fact he and Johnny loathe each other...

What are we? Super villains?

We’re grown fucking adults, busting our asses to graduate college, we don’t have time for petty squabbles and arch nemeses.

Or at least we shouldn’t. I sure as shit don’t. This isn’t a goddamn Marvel movie.

Who the hell has time to keep up grudges with someone they went to high school with? Not me, that’s for sure. Isn’t August trying to be some big shot hockey player? Do all hockey players play dumbass games with people from high school?

Damnit, I’m a nice fucking person. People generally like me... most of the time at least. But I clearly somehow flipped August’s shit list switch. And it’s botheringme more than I’d like.

Ugh. Why am I so perturbed? Does he think I’m still with Johnny? Is that why he’s so pissed at me? He’s afraid I’m using him in some master plan Johnny has to get back at him for something? To trap him into cheating with me so Johnny could mess his pretty face up at their next game?

Johnny can barely tie his own shoe laces without adult supervision, never mind mastering a revenge prank on someone. That would mean he’d have to think about someone other than his goddamn self for a hot minute.

Oof. Clearly I’m not all the way past my Johnny White experiencejustyet.

I’m wired.

I’m mad.

I’m tangled up in some teenage crush that I’d really like a one-way ticket out of, but instead, I’m hot as hell.

I can say a lot of things about August Kade, he’s a grumpy shit, rude, abrasive, hard to read, and totally overstepped the fucking line by laying hands on me without asking my permission.

But he sure does rock the ever-loving hell out of a tuxedo.

And, lack of consent aside, that was by far, the best motor boating experience of my entire life to date. I’m pretty sure he bared his teeth on my skin as he rubbed his mouth over my tits. A shiver snakes up my spine at the memory.

Hot damn.

August Kade is a dirty boy. Feral. And I liked it. Or I would have, if I wasn’t pissed at him for pretending not only that he didn’t know me, but that I was completely invisible all night, and touching me like he fucking owned me.

My fingers drift between my thighs, I can’t help myself. It’s a tried and true method of getting me to calm the hell down and go to sleep. Especially when my spank bank is overflowing from the day.

Yes, I’m a strong and independent woman. I’m one hundredpercent down for consensual sex between people. But there was something about that man just... grabbing me... that blew my fucking mind as well as my titties.

I should be ashamed of myself, of being turned on by himpossessingme like that, but instead, there’s a throbbing in my crotch I’m truly not proud of.

I just need to rub one out and get over it.

Get off, then pass out.

I’m fucking soaking. Jesus Christ, what is it about me liking the wrong guys? August Kade is all the way wrong for me, and yet... My squelching pussy tells an entirely different story.

Fuck.

I will not moan his name. I will not moan his name. I will not moan... his... his... oh god... my fingers glide over my clit, drawing a gasp from me.

The firm set of his jaw, the broad stretch of chest between his strong shoulders, the molten gold flecks flickering in his brown eyes, those hot as fuck forearms that somehow look even hotter with turned up dress sleeves. What even is that?

A scream bellows from me as I pant, hurtling toward my release. “August.” God damnit his name just slipped out.

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