Page 71 of Off-Ice Misconduct
“Say, uh, wanna get coffee with me, Professor?” she says, her flirty body language affirming what I’m reading from her invitation. Even if I were available, I’m not into dating someone her age—Ace is the exception.
“Student-professor relationships are highly frowned upon, Miss Fairchild. Besides, I’m happily taken.”
“Uh, um, yeah. Sorry, it’s just you’re so you.”
I could ask her what she means by that, but I’m not interested. I want to get back to the text conversation I was having with Ace before I left for the gym. Something, something, something about hockey stats. I’m a hockey fan, but I don’t pay attention to that stuff like he does. I’m only paying attention now because it’s him saying it. I’d listen to him droll on about jarring pickles if he wanted me to.
“Anyway, if you change your mind?—”
“I won’t.” I breeze past her, leaving ice in my wake, without coffee, fist clutched around yet another piece of McKinnon I’m not giving back.
15
Ace
We’re three weeks into October, and we’ve just boarded the bus bound for Oregon, our second regulation game of the season. We spanked Air Force Academy last weekend at home, and I predict we’ll do the same to Portland tonight and Tacoma tomorrow.
Coach steps onto the bus, followed by the professor. What the…? Luke didn’t tell me he was coming.
“The flu’s taken out not one but two of my assistant coaches. My brother’s gonna help us out,” Coach says.
“What does he know about hockey, Coach?” I ask, making out like I’m annoyed. Because I’m supposed to pretend he’s just your average, broody ex-military-esque professor, and not my secret boyfriend with a god complex and a Daddy kink. Keeping a straight face around him’s getting harder, especially now that I know what his rough fucking hand feels like around my cock.
“What does he know? Everything I do. Who do you think taught me? He’s my big brother after all.”
That’ssonot professional experience, and he knows it, but from the way Coach gazes at the professor like he’s some kind of hero, I don’t think experience matters.Wow.Pure nepotism. But it suits me. Watching him pace behind the bench tonight, restraining himself from hopping over the boards to beat on anyone who beats on me is gonna be so hot.
“Anyway, he’ll be helping us out. I expect everyone to give him the same respect you give me, or you won’t like practices for the next few weeks.”
There’s a chorus of “Yes, Coach,” as I watch on, stunned. The man is a mountain, stepping onto the bus. He’s in a pair of ripped black jeans, but he’ll have to change into a suit for the game, and not gonna lie, I might drool. Plus, I know what’s he’s got under all that, every scar, every ripple of muscle, all that fucking chest hair I’m gonna toy with later. Currently, though, he’s draped in a Scorpions jacket. Wait, where the fuck did he get that? Is it one of Coach’s?
My phone vibrates.
Wolf Daddy
My eyes will be on you all weekend. Behave yourself, princess.
The electric shiver he can pull out of me from across the bus. Holy fuck. Undefeated. But bad news, Assistant Coach VanCourt. If you think I won’t test you with an audience, you don’t know a thing about me.
Bender’s my bus mate on the way to Oregon. He pulls out my earbud, because what’s mine is his as far as he’s concerned, and shoves it in his ear.
“Ugh, Three Days Grace again? I want something else,” he complains, and I let him instead of telling him to fuck off as I rightfully should.
He grabs my phone, punching in the passcode, and I fucking panic for a second, thinking I left the message app open. I may have been staring at Luke’s message for a little too long. But I calm the fuck down when I see it’s only open to my music. Bender dicks around, changing it as he pleases, and then he rests his head on my shoulder, closing his eyes.
Bend had a rough upbringing and didn’t get much comfort. He’s at this school because I got my dad to pay for him, which Bender doesn’t know. I arranged it so he thinks it’s a scholarship. Thing is, he’s a smart cookie, and he could have gotten a scholarship if he’d known when and where to apply, but he missed the boat. Thankfully, it’s never too late for a scholarship from McKinnon Architectural Firm. Not for him. Dad adores him.
But anyway, if he needs a little comfort, even in public, I don’t give a flying fuck what others wanna say about it, he can sleep on my shoulder if he wants to. The guys are used to us, and they’re not fucking assholes. I don’t let douchebags join Alpha Kappa Epsilon House, and Coach has a zero-tolerance policy on the team. If you’re a dick, you’re gone.
Still annoyed with him doing as he pleases with my music, but pretty sure he was just using it as an excuse to be close, so fuck it. Guess I’m listening to Loveless now.
I take it a step further and lace my hand with his, squeezing it tightly. He must be thinking about something that’s bothering him. Eventually, he closes his eyes and falls asleep.
Catching a scent in the air makes me look up just as Luke walks by on his way to the bus’s onboard restroom, the embodiment of the saying, “if looks could kill,” carved into his face.
What the fuck? What did I do this time? I spend the next few minutes trying to come up with something. When he’s on the way back to his seat, he’s refuses to glance my way. Awesome. At least pissing him off should come with the satisfaction of knowing what I did. Whatever. Fuck that guy.
Just when I’m thinking that maybe I’ll try sleeping myself, I hear my message notification through the headphones. I wince, checking on Bender. Nope, still asleep, thank fuck. But I know who it’s gonna be.
