Page 13 of Three Hockey Hotties

“Abby, wait for me,” Kane says.

“Oh, I’m fi—” I start to say.

Then my legs splay out, and I drop my water bottle.

I hit the ice with a hard, teeth-rattling crunch and an involuntary cry.

Stunned, I sit there for a second, assessing the damage. I’m mostly startled, not actually injured.

Kane is suddenly in front of me, hands on my shoulders, rubbing them rapidly. “Are you okay? What hurts?”

“I’m okay, I just lost my footing.”

I did whack my tailbone, but I’m not going to mention my ass right now when there is this much testosterone crowding me.

Dash has slid on the ice—on his knees—up next to me. He instantly pops back up into a squat in a way that makes me understand why all the girls in college were constantly giggling about spending their weekends at the ‘boy aquarium’.

I may not know much about hockey, but I’ve seen the warm-up videos on social media. Hip thrusting for days.

I suddenly feel warm even though I’m sitting on the ice.

“Are you sure?” Dash asks me. “That was a hard landing.” His hands stretch out and brush off my thighs.

To what purpose, I’m not sure.

But my thighs seem to disappear beneath the massive sprawl of his enormous palms, and his touch is warm and heavy.

“I…” My mouth feels too dry to speak. I realize I’ve dropped my water bottle. It’s always an extension of my right hand, and now I see it has skittered across the ice.

Dash follows where my gaze drifts.

“Stop pawing at her and let her see if she can stand.”

It’s the third man who suddenly appeared on the ice.

This obviously isn’t a player.

My eyes drift up from his expensive, shiny leather shoes over a tailored suit to arms crossed over a toned chest, to a handsome face wearing a deep scowl.

Dash yanks his hands off of me as if he just realized he’s been touching me far too long to be appropriate for strangers.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “Sorry.” Then he slides off to the right, still in a squat, retrieving my water bottle.

“Are you hurt?” the scowling man demands.

He says it like it damn well better not be true.

“I…” I repeat. I swallow hard as I stare up at him towering over me. If Kane is the charming knight and Dash is the misunderstood beast, this man is the king.

He’s in charge. That is very clear.

“Benj, stop. You’re scaring her,” Kane says.

Not scaring me so much as making me wish very much I could be a princess in a fairy tale with these three men.

“She needs to answer the question.”

Kane frowns up at the man. “You’re being a dick.”