Page 30 of Shift Change

We’d partied a lot together, and the man was a legend when it came to puck bunnies and pick-up lines. One time on the road, a hotel mix-up landed the two of us in a room with two beds. Naturally, we each met a woman. After a quick conference, we took them back to the room, where we all agreed to stay two to a bed and keep things quiet. Everything was fine, but was it our fault the girls switched beds after the first round?

Riley emerged from under the shower spray, water dripping from his hair and lashes, and gave me a look. “What’s with you and Dog? You can’t keep your eyes off each other.”

I opened my mouth to deny it but made the mistake of glancing over, only to find Dog watching me. He flashed a quick smile before looking away. Then he kept flicking his eyes at me while he lathered up, sliding his hands across his abs like he was starring in a commercial for bath soap.

When his hands inched lower, I held my breath and stared like an idiot while he lathered his pubes and the tops of his thighs. The white suds clung to him, and nestled in the foam was something that could only be described as a Renaissance masterpiece. If Michelangelo had sculpted hockey players in the shower, Dog’s cock would’ve been his magnum opus.

Heat surged through me as I remembered how it had felt rubbing against mine when we were tangled up in bed. It was huge, so it was no wonder it had felt so damn good. A sharp spike of desire made me wonder if I was about to get hard in a team shower for the first time since middle school.

“Holky!”

Riley had hissed my name, and I snapped out of it so fast I nearly slipped on the wet floor. “The fuck is it now?”

At least he had the decency to lean closer before muttering, “You’ve got to stop looking at him like that. People are watching you.”

A quick scan of the room showed most of the guys focused on showering and talking about the game, but a few weren’t so subtle. Gabe smirked as he turned away, and Packy raised an eyebrow and ducked his head, trying not to laugh.

My stomach dropped. Shit.

If I don’t fucking get it together, I will be screwed.

* * *

Despite our early flight, Riley decided my house was the perfect place to have a quick beer. His excuse was that he didn’t have a date, but that had never stopped him from going out and finding one. He wasn’t fooling anybody. I knew damn well he wanted to watch Dog and me after whatever theories had taken root in his nosy little brain. He roped Gabe and Brody into coming along, which would have been fine, except Packy overheard and called his wife to tell her he had important teammate bonding to do.

Dog and I had barely walked into the house when the doorbell rang. One after another, they poured in: Riley, Gabe, Brody, and Packy.

“So nice of you to invite us,” Riley said.

“Fuck off.” I’d have said more, but the bell rang again.

This time, it was Logan. “Riley told me we’re hanging out,” he said, like that explained everything.

I hadn’t even closed the door when Harpy and Luca showed up, grinning like they were in on some secret. Apparently, Riley had run his mouth and invited Harpy, who’d swung by to pick up Luca on the way.

Fucking Riley. So much for a quiet night with Dog, a couple of beers, and whatever else might’ve happened.

We headed downstairs, and for the first time in recorded history, nobody was in the mood for poker or video games. Just as I started thinking we might have a chill night, I caught sight of something that made my blood pressure rise.

Dog had sat on one of the two-seater couches, which was great. Yet before I could as much as blink, Riley—the smug little shit—sauntered over and plopped himself down next to Dog, spreading out like he paid rent.

Dog shot me a look, disappointment written all over his face. While I was debating whether to ask Riley to move or not, he looked at me with his oversized faux-innocent eyes, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was loving every goddamn second of it.

Fine. If that was how he wanted to play it, game on. I passed around IPAs, then walked over and locked eyes with Riley. “Mind if I sit there?”

He scoffed. “It was a hard game, and I’m comfortable.”

“Let me sit with Dog.”

Riley raised an eyebrow, his face a picture of mock confusion. “Why? There are plenty of other places to sit.”

“It was Dog’s game tonight, and we’re roomies.” I kept my voice as casual as I could. “I figured we’d hang out.”

A slow, shit-stirring smile spread across Riley’s face. “No problem, bud.” He clapped Dog on the knee and stood. As he passed me, he tossed a grin over his shoulder and added, “Be good, now.”

The fucker winked, just to twist the knife.Bastard.

I slid onto the couch next to Dog, whose eyes were bright. “Hey.”

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