Page 82 of Playing the Pucking Game
Trying to find her because of some weird compulsion I’ve had for…far longer than I’m willing to confess to.
I expect to find her dancing and enjoying herself. And that’s exactly what I find when my eyes finally land on her in the crowd. Only, she isn’t just dancing. She’s dancing with a guy. Rolling her hips against his, letting his hand roam over her body. Losing herself in him and the beat.
How I remain standing here is beyond me. All I want to do is race down there and drag him away from her. Replace him with myself and discover what it would feel like dancing with her…
Get it fucking together, Storm.
Closing my eyes, I tip my head back, but the second darkness sets in, all I see is her dancing with him.
The alcohol swimming in my veins does very little to wash it away.
I don’t drink that often anymore. Being focused and ready for a game is more important. But everything was different tonight. I needed something, anything, to take the edge off of everything I’ve been feeling the last few days. It’s been…a lot.
Forcing myself to take a few deep breaths, I try to empty my mind. Forget the irritation of not being able to play and support my team tonight, lose the annoyance I’ve forced myself to feel toward Parker. Truthfully, I’m grateful. But I can’t let her see that. It’s easier to pretend I’m annoyed with her. It helps to keep a barrier between us. If that slips, then…
I can’t go down that road.
Not again.
When I finally open my eyes and scan the gyrating bodies below me, I don’t find her.
My heart jumps into my throat.
What if she left with the guy?
What if he takes her back to his place? Or worse, what if she brings him to our hotel and I’m forced to see him leave in the morning? I guess I should be thankful that her room isn’t next to ours this time.
I couldn’t listen to that...
I don’t want to know what she sounds like when she’s getting fucked by someone else. I don’t want to know how hard he makes her come, or how good she is for him.
Frantically, my eyes dart around, searching for them as panic floods through my veins.
I don’t breathe until I spot her.
“Thank fuck,” I breathe, watching her, Brooke, and Leah at the bar.
For the briefest moment, I don’t think the guys are with them, but then they step closer.
He smiles down at her as if she’s just hung the moon as he runs his hand down her back, and I fight to take a breath.
I can’t even say they don’t look good together because, quite honestly, they do.
I can’t tear my eyes off them as the bartender slides their drinks over. The six of them chat and drink. At no point does he break contact with her, and it makes me want to rip his arm off.
“What’s caught your…ah,” Kodie says, coming to join me and immediately spotting the car crash I’m watching. “And here I was, thinking you were enjoying yourself.”
“Someone is,” I mutter.
“Dude, you’ve got it bad.”
“I don’t have anything. I’m just keeping an eye out is all. What if he’s a murderer?”
“What if he’s her soulmate?”
“The fuck, Rivers?” I bark.
He shrugs, not giving a shit. “You’ve been spending too much time with Casey.”
