Page 38 of Ice Me Out

“Are you serious? I bought you tickets on the glass.”

I subtly rolled my eyes.

“That’s what you get for believing I don’t have a life outside of you. I’m sure you can find some SU hockey fan who will gladly pay you ten times the price for the ticket. I gotta go to the ladies’ room. When I come back, this table better be filled with tequila shots,” I said before sauntering away.

I entered the bathroom and was pleased to see no women in the stalls. I wiped off the vanity with a brown paper towel before setting my purse on the counter. I was in the middle of swiping shimmery lip gloss on my lips when Hart entered. The lock clicking into place was deafening and foreboding, but I could handle Hart.

I kept my composure when he glared at me menacingly through the mirror and somehow held it together when he caged me against the vanity, but my knees weakened as soon as his warm breath caressed my ear, and his erection pressed against my ass.

“You’re coming over tonight.”

“No can do, Sweet Hart. I’m off the clock,” I reminded him.

“Don’t piss me off, Vera,” he sighed, clearly not in the mood for my games.

“I’m not trying to piss you off,” I replied, capping my lip gloss before tossing it into my purse. “It’s not a game night; therefore, my services aren’t required.”

He smirked, and I knew he was about to be on some bullshit.

“I get it,” he said, pressing closer. “You’d rather hang out with that fucking harem you call a study group.”

I snorted.

“Harem, really?” I asked, examining my face in the mirror. “You sound jealous.”

“You’d rather hang out with your fuck toys instead of me. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“First, I want to acknowledge how emotionally intelligent you are for admitting you’re jealous. Second, fuck you for thinking they’ve played Pass the Sista.”

He buried his face in my neck to muffle his laughter. I tried to shrug him off and evade him, but he held onto me tighter than a boa constrictor.

“You might not have played Pass the Sista, but you definitely slept with the hockey player. I’m starting to think you have a type.”

“How do you know I’ve slept with him?”

Hart rested his chin on top of my head and stared at me through the mirror.

“He made it so fucking obvious. You can tell from his body language, how he looked at you, and how he glared at us in a pitiful attempt to ward us off. He’s a junkyard dog trying to protect his bone, and you want to know the best part?”

“No,” I replied firmly. I winced when he slapped my ass.

“The best part is that he’s completely unaware that I had you soaking my sheets less than 24 hours ago. I bet my cum is still leaking out of you. What’s the story with the AHL reject?”

“That’s rude,” I pointed out.

“C’mon, Vera. He’s got bench-warmer written all over his face. He wouldn’t last two minutes on the ice with a pro.”

I whirled around, craned my neck back to look up at him, and propped my arms on his shoulder. He bent down, cupped the back of my thighs, picked me up, and set me on the countertop. I sucked in a breath when he wedged himself between my thighs. All that separated us was leather, cotton, and lace panties I wouldn’t mind him pulling to the side.

“That’s because my jealous sugar daddy would beat the shit out of him.”

“Guilty. Now spill,” Hart urged.

I sighed. “It’s not an exciting story. It’s the classic case of he wanted more, and I wanted less. I was upfront with him before our brief entanglement, but I guess he thought he could change my mind.”

“I bet my championship rings he didn’t take it well.”

“Considering I’m still alive, I think he took it pretty well. Some women don’t make it out unscathed when they reject men.”