Page 29 of Triple Play
Too late. They all saw.
Heat floods through me. Not embarrassment.
Arousal.
Because three very attractive men just looked at me like that, as if they’re starving and I’m a meal they can’t have.
My body responds without permission. A low throb between my legs. My pulse kicks up. My skin goes hot.
This was supposed to make them uncomfortable.
It’s backfiring.
Now I’m acutely aware of how long it’s been since I’ve had sex—eight months. Since before I decided to transfer. Since I decided to focus on school instead of mediocre hookups with guys who didn’t know what they were doing.
And now I’m living with three hockey players who definitely know what they’re doing.
My brain unhelpfully supplies images.
Grant would be intense and controlled. The way he gripped the edge of the table earlier—he’d grip me like that. Hold me down. Use that precision he has on the ice. He wouldn’t ask permission, just take. Make me feel it for days.
Jordie would be playful and teasing. That golden boy smile turned wicked. He’d make me laugh right up until he made me come. He’d probably talk the whole time, telling me exactly what he’s doing to me and why.
Wyatt would be rough and desperate. All that coiled tension unleashed. Quiet except for the sounds he couldn’t help. His hands everywhere, leaving marks.
My clit throbs.
Fuck.
“Machines are old,” Wyatt says, his voice rougher than normal.
I force myself to focus, to act normal. “Mm. Good to know.”
I grab my laptop and open it with hands that aren’t quite steady.
Grant’s knuckles are white around his beer bottle. Jordie keeps shifting, adjusting himself. Not subtle.
Wyatt’s jaw is so tight I’m worried about his teeth.
Good.
If I have to sit here throbbing and aching, fighting the urge to go upstairs and take care of this, they can suffer too.
Fair is fair.
Act normal, I tell myself. “You guys always watch hockey on Tuesday nights?”
“It’s the playoffs,” Grant says, still not looking at me.
“Cool. Don’t let me interrupt.”
I’m not interrupting; I’m existing. There’s a difference.
But my presence is clearly interrupting something. The easy male camaraderie that probably existed before I showed up has vanished.
Good.
They interrupted my life by making it difficult.
