Page 43 of Devious Obsession
Power play for the Knights. But Josh Maverick is sidelined, hopefully for the rest of the game. Pretty sure his ugly mug will look hideous tonight, and that’ll lessen any chance of Aspen going home with him.
Not that he’ll get the chance. Because twenty minutes later, we score again. Two to one. And we hold them off until the final second ticks down.
* * *
I sit on the porch of the hockey house with Miles. We have tomorrow off, which means getting drunk is in order. And we’re well on our way.
Inside, the party is growing bigger and louder. Miles and Knox own the house we live in, and they spent a good chunk of change renovating it over the summer. It’s only right that the first party comes on the heels of our first win. We’re christening it.
There’s something nostalgic about the smell of beer, the sound of music and laughter, and the cool night air.
Miles nudges me, jerking his head toward the sidewalk. Violet and Willow are already inside, but I’d bet anything that they invited these two.
Aspen and her roommate, whose name I should probably find out. If only so I can stop calling herthe roommate. It’s a mouthful.
But Aspen is still wearing that fucker’s jersey. Her hair is down, and the black leggings under the jersey hug her curves.
Still.
I rise and block their way onto the porch. Aspen doesn’t seem surprised. She tips her head back and meets my gaze, her hands on her hips. I don’t want her here tonight. I just want to get drunk and hang out with my friends and go to bed. Alone, obviously, since I haven’t been able to get a hard-on for anyone except her.
And we’re not doing that tonight.
“Sorry, no enemy fangirls allowed.”
She rolls her eyes. “Come on.”
“No enemyjerseysallowed,” I correct, smirking at her. “You can remove it if it’s that important for you to get in.”
Her eyes narrow, and she seems to contemplate it for a minute.
Then her fingers go to the edge of the jersey.
My chest tightens as she pulls the fabric up, exposing the rest of her high-waisted leggings. Then the pale skin of her upper stomach, her ribcage… and then her bra. Black lace. Her nipples are fucking visible through it, hardening in a way that is intimately familiar.
If only we weren’t outside with the world watching. What used to be a turn-on is now a curse. I don’t want anyone staring at her, and she seems set on attracting all the attention.
“What are you doing?” I growl before I can stop myself.
She removes the jersey the rest of the way, dropping it on the sidewalk beside her. Now her hair looks just-fucked, and she stands in front of me in a bra and leggings.
What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?
“I’m going to the party.” She bats her eyelashes at me. And she slips past me, dragging her roommate with her.
They go up the porch, past Miles, and into the house.
I turn and track her, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth might crack. Miles has his mouth covered, hiding his growing laughter.
“That backfired,” he murmurs.
I’m going to kill her.
I storm after her, my feet moving before my brain can catch up. She hasn’t made it far—there’s a lot of fucking people in the house, and they don’t give a shit about two girls trying to force their way deeper inside.
But for me, they move out of the way.
I grab her hips and haul her over my shoulder. She screeches and flails, knocking the drink out of someone’s grasp. I band her thighs to my chest before she can do anything else, and her hands land on my shoulders. She’s more upright, hovering above me, but I shift her until her ass is higher up. Her balance betrays her, and she folds again.
