Page 117 of Stick It
I could easily lose myself in this. In her.
Which is exactly why I force myself to pull back, forehead resting against hers, both of us breathing hard.
I smirk at her as my thumb brushes her collarbone. “There’s more of that waiting at home, too.”
The tension is palpable when we walk back into the locker room. Finn looks about ready to remove Griffin’s head from his shoulders. I give Ethan a questioning look, but he simply shakes his head, lips pursed in a thin line. Dylan either doesn’t notice the tension or pretends not to as she moves to her locker and starts to throw on clothes.
“First practice over with,” Griffin says, giving her one of his boyish grins that makes him look less like the unfeeling psychopath he is, and that frequently has girls going weak at the knees for him. I don’t see it, but whatever. Pushing off the wall he was leaning against, he approaches once she’s changed and packed, and ready to leave. “You’ll be back in play in no time.”
She gives him a small, weary sigh. “Hopefully.”
“I got you something to celebrate, and help make the wait a little less dull.” She perks up as he reaches into an inside pocket of the leather jacket he’s wearing tonight. Unlike most of the guys on the team, myself included, Griffin doesn’t live in sweats and shorts. He’s always wearing all black—black jeans, black T-shirt, black leather jacket, black boots. He’d be more suited to a motorcycle club than a hockey team. I think the most casual I’ve ever seen him was once after an ice bath when he put on black tracksuit bottoms after he’d toweled off.
Dylan plucks a piece of paper from his outstretched hand. “You got me a ticket to see the Timberwolves game this week?”
“Yeah. They’re playing against the Marauders in Burlington. Thought we could go.” He waits until she lifts her gaze to his. “Make a date of it.” He winks. Fuckingwinksat her. Oblivious to the clenching of my fists or the sudden tension that has permeated the air.
“You want to take her on adate?” I’m surprised that it’s Finn who speaks first, the snarl evident on his face as he glowers at Griffin. Out of all of us, he’s the one least attached to Dylan—or so I thought. “As in, just thetwo of you?Why?” He looks so disgusted that it would be funny if Dylan hadn’t subtly flinched at his words.
Griffin notices too, based on the way his nostrils flare, and he looks at Finn like he could murder him without blinking an eye. “Because that’s what grown-ass men do when they like a woman,” he bites out. “Not that I’d expect you to understand.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Finn spits.
Turning to square off with him, Griffin says, “It means, the only women you spend time with are puck bunnies, and there’s only one thing anyone is looking for fromthattransaction.” Griffin’s gaze rakes over him. “Hell, you’ve finally found a girl you want to more than just fuck, and you’ve been pushing her away at every turn.”
“What?” Finn splutters, mouth agape. “I don’t?—”
“Don’t finish that fucking sentence,” Griffin snarls, stepping forward to jab a finger in Finn’s chest.
I notice Dylan is staring at the ticket in her hand. Her shoulders are bunched, though, so she’s listening to every word these dipshits say.
“This isn’t the time or place for this discussion,” Ethan interjects, showing us all why he was elected to be our captain this year. He’s efficient at wrangling testosterone-fueled, adrenaline-rushed men. Stepping between Griffin and Finn, he forces Griffin back a step as his gaze shifts from one to the other. “You’re both acting like children.” Fixing his glare on Griffin, his jaw works as though he doesn’t want to say whatever he’s mulling over. “If you want to go on a date with Dylan, then it’s not on us to stop you, but perhaps now isn’t the right time?—”
“I want to go,” Dylan cuts in, lifting her head and looking between each of us. “I want to go to the game. It’s been…a while since I was at one.”
Ethan’s shoulders lower as he turns to face her, his expression softening. “I get that, but you’re exhausted.” He gestures toward her. “You can barely stand on your own two feet.”
Oh, Dylan doesn’t like that. Not one bit. Her eyes narrow on him, defiance blazing from the hazel depths. That defiance shouldn’t go straight to my dick, but it does. I have such a hard-on for her fire. It’s magnetic. I could readily sit back and watch her decimate anyone who tries to tell her what to do. “Just as well it’s a hockey game and not a concert we’re going to,” she snarks. “Plenty of seats.”
Ethan sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s not what I meant.”
Griffin holds up a hand. “We know what you meant. You’re being a sour pussy because you’re missing out.”
“A sour what?!” Ethan splutters. “I am not!”
Ignoring him, Griffin continues with a smug look. “Guess it’s a good thing that I got enough tickets for everyone, isn’t it?” He pulls four tickets from his pocket, flashing them for us to see. “You didn’t have to put on all this posturing bullshit.” He waves the tickets back and forth between Finn and Ethan. “All you had to do was ask nicely.”
“You’re a real asshole,” Finn grumbles.
Uncaring, Griffin just shrugs. “Does that mean you don’t want to come?”
“No.” Finn frowns. There’s no ignoring how petulant he sounds, though.
“That is,” Griffin says, “if Dylan is okay with you ruffians tagging along?”
As one, all of us look at Dylan. Sighing, she rolls her eyes. “So long as you’re all done measuring dick sizes.”
Griffin scoffs before anyone else can comment. “Everyone here already knows mine’s the biggest,” he purrs, his gaze incinerating at he stares at Dylan, pulling her in against his body and bringing his face to her neck. She shivers in his hold, and while I’m definitely jealous that he’s the one touching her and not me, I’m not…totally put off by it.
