Page 17 of Players Love Hard
We walk through the living room where we run into the Kane twins—Trent and Tucker. They’re tall, blond, and gorgeous blond, identical in every way. I had a hard time telling them apart when we first met. If Tucker didn’t spend so much time on Greek Row, it probably would have taken me longer to get to know him. He’s hit on me tons of times over the years. Every time, I tell him to get lost. He’s a player, never without a woman on his arm.
Trent is less of a manwhore, though not by much. All the guys on the hockey team have their pick of women. Girls throw themselves at them in the most embarrassing fashion.
Trent looks up from his cell phone to wave to me while Tucker makes a comment about me being Jamie’s girlfriend. Jamie doesn’t correct them, and I hate to admit that I like the sound of being his girl.
Before we reach the kitchen, someone comes crashing through the front door, slamming it behind them. The sudden noise causes me to jump and stumble into Jamie. He hugs me closer to his side, his muscles flexing beneath the tight fabric stretched across his thick chest. In a long-sleeved compression shirt that fits him in all the right places, Jamie’s body is a work of art. I haven’t seen him without a shirt yet, but I sure want to.
I turn around to find Killian Kade standing next to Preston Parker. Killian is well over six feet and muscular, with black, wavy hair that sweeps over his forehead.
His eyes find mine, and when they do, his face lights up. “What are we eating?”
“Yeah, I’m hungry,” Tucker adds from the couch in the living room. “What’s for dinner?”
“I told you they would be a pain in the ass,” Jamie says against my earlobe, his breath on my skin sending chills down my spine. “We better get cooking before they annoy you.”
“I can make some snacks real quick,” I say, stepping into the kitchen. “Hand me the tomatoes, some basil, olive oil, and garlic.” I point at the fresh loaf of Italian bread on the table. “I’ll cut the veggies, you slice the bread.”
Jamie nods and then assembles the ingredients in front of me, standing next to me to help prep. Five minutes later, I shove the bowl I prepared between us and tell Jamie to grab a spoon. He helps me top the toasted bread with the tomato, herb, and olive oil mixture.
“Take a tray of this out to the living room and keep your friends out of here. The fewer distractions we have, the faster we’ll eat.”
Jamie lifts a platter of bruschetta. “You got it, boss lady.” He winks and then disappears into the living room, giving me some room to breathe.
I can handle dinner with his friends, though I don’t know if my nerves can. Now, I see why Tucker called me Jamie’s girlfriend because it sure as hell feels like it. And it was all my doing.
Chapter Seven
Jamie
The house smells of herbs and garlic, a delicious aroma that causes my stomach to rumble. All the guys are starving, myself included. I burned off so much energy during practice that I’m salivating over the meal Shannon’s preparing for us.
Standing behind Shannon, I slide my hands to her hips, caging her against the kitchen island.
“You’re doing more distracting than cooking,” Shannon coos, her voice soft. “You should make yourself useful and stop bugging me.”
“Cooking isn’t one of my strong suits,” I whisper against her neck, slipping my hands beneath the seam of her shirt, feeling her stomach.
She leans her head back and moans. “Jamie, c’mon…”
I suck on her earlobe, loving the sight of her lips parted, nipples hard and poking through her shirt. My cock presses into her ass. She groans when she feels my length, and I want nothing more than to bend her over the counter and fuck the tension from my body.
“I changed my mind,” I say as I suck her earlobe once more. “I want to eat you for dinner.”
“You’re so bad, Jamie.” A smile stretches across her perfect, plump lips I want wrapped around my cock. “But you’re waiting until after we eat.”
“Fine,” I whisper low enough for her to hear. “Then I’ll eat your pussy for dessert.”
She chuckles, rubbing her ass into my painfully hard erection. I can’t even think straight when she does this, let alone move. And when Preston pops his head into the kitchen, he gives me a look, one eyebrow raised.
“When are we eating?” he asks.
“Five minutes,” Shannon says. “Go set the table.”
Preston laughs and then looks at me. I point at the cabinet where we keep the dishes, and he does as Shannon asked. I’m shocked. I expected him to tell me to do it. As the team captain, he’s so used to ordering all of us around that sometimes I have to remind him that his job does not extend off the ice.
Once the food is ready, I help Shannon arrange bowls, plates, and serving dishes on the dining table at the far end of the kitchen. We take a few seconds to ourselves without my friends interrupting. Shannon hops up on the counter, and I slip between her spread thighs. Running my hands up her legs, I wish we were alone now more than ever. It’s been a while since the last time I had sex. Unlike my friends, I don’t hook up with every girl on campus.
I lift a bowl of penne and pinch the pasta between my fingers, feeding it to Shannon. She bites into it, licking her lips with an intense look in her eyes.
