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I picked her up, and she squeaked. As I skated her a few feet away, a safe distance from my rowdy teammates…I was thinking it was a dangerous thing. Touching her.
It was the kind of thing you could get addicted to.
She stared up at me with a bemused little grin, like she wasn’t sure how she’d gotten herself in this situation, and I was confident she had flight risk all over her.
“Please don’t leave. And please remember that it’s not usually like this,” I begged, wishing there was some sort of, I don’t know, handcuff, around…? So I could prevent her from leaving.
That was a weird thought.
She was still staring at me, confused, biting down on that full bottom lip of hers and making me feel slightly feral.
I dragged myself back over to Sam, shooting looks at her every few feet to make sure she was still there. Yanking the Jack Daniels out of Sam’s hands, I started gulping it down for some liquid courage.
Not that I particularly cared about streaking. Other men seeing your balls was basically part of the athlete life.
But I did care whatshethought about the whole thing.
Somehow, a few months ago, Sam had gotten drunk and started practically bawling about not getting a goal. He’d been on the team for a month, just brought up from the AHL, and he was convinced that he was going to get kicked off if he didn’t make it happen.
Ari had decided that Sam needed some encouragement in the form of us streaking or…I actually wasn’t sure what the motivating factor was.
But the point was, thatIwas the only one on the ice, about to freeze my balls off in front of the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.
And Ari fucking Lancaster was nowhere to be seen.
So okay…maybe Ari and I had also both been really, really drunk when this bet had taken place.
But still…
Sam handed me a large sock with a chin nod, like he was doing me a huge favor by helping me avoid a dicksickle.
Okay, fuck, maybe he was.
“Take it off,” Tommy called, waving a shirt above his head and chugging a beer.
I flipped him off.
Glancing back at Violet, she was still there…and she was still eyeing me, a confused…and hungry gleam in her gaze.
The hunger I could work with.
And for her patience…I should at least give her a show.
I peeled off my jersey, revealing the chiseled contours of my chest…keeping my eyes on her the entire time. Normally I’d be cold, and my nipples could cut a dick being shirtless out on the ice. But I was feeling rather toasty at the moment.
Her eyes were glazed and she looked a bit shaky as she stared at me, like I was actually the eighth wonder of the world.
It was probably how I’d been looking at her too, though.
And fuck, I was getting hard. She couldn’t look at me like that. Popping a boner in front of my teammates was not my idea of a good time.
Sauerkraut, bunnies, crushed turtle shells, green peas…
I went through my usual list of things that were sure fire ways to get rid of a hard on.
But they weren’t fucking working.
Lincoln Daniels telling me I have a small dick!!!!
