Playing for Keeps (Hot Jocks, #1)

by Kendall Ryan

On a roll now, Owen adds, “And you might want to consider some manscaping. There were pubes stuck in the drain and they charge extra for that.” “Manscaping? Do you even hear yourself?” Teddy asks, shaking his head. He turns from the locker and shoulders his bag. It’s a sad reality that I’ve seen these guys naked so many times I actually know their manscaping routines. Fuck, that’s just sad. “I’m serious, man. The chicks like it. You can’t have hairy balls if you want them to be licked. That’s just reality, bro.” Owen shakes his head, face serious. “You guys are disgusting animals, you know that right?” I ask. “Yup,” TK and Asher both answer at once.

“G-rated,” Justin echoes, shooting me a sympathetic look. It’s taken me months, but I’m finally able to be in the same room as him and not want to cry. Or puke. Yay, me.

“Awe. Look who gets all crabby when he loses.” Justin stands, stretching his arms over his head, making his t-shirt hitch up a couple of inches to reveal his defined set of abs. Abs that no longer set my pulse on fire. Okay, I’m lying. But hey, at least I’m trying to go through the motions. Even though I can still remember how those abs feel against my fingertips if I think about it long enough.

It’s been three long months of trying to forget our night together, three months of pretending it never happened, and three months of wading through the kind of tough-love therapy that only your girlfriends can dish up. It didn’t matter that that night in his bed left a permanent imprint on my heart. Didn’t matter that Justin was still the only guy who sent my pulse into overdrive.

Justin returns with two bottles of beer and hands one to Owen before twisting the cap off his own and taking a long sip. I force my gaze away from watching the way his throat moves as he swallows.

My brother hasn’t noticed anything, but sometimes I catch Justin staring at me when no one else is looking.

And even though my heart is squeezing inside my chest at the thought of Justin with one of those girls, I laugh right along with Owen. I just hope he can’t tell how hollow the sound is.

I took Becca’s advice and moved on with my life, but that doesn’t mean I’ve gotten over what happened. I don’t even know how that would be possible. Justin Brady has held a part of my heart since I was six years old. As I grew up, that comfortable fondness evolved from friendship into love…for me anyway.

That secret little smile meant the world to me. It still does. Even if I don’t want it to. So yeah, getting over our night of mind-blowing sex is probably not happening.

He really is a sweet guy. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Cute in a nerdy kind of way. I like him. At least, I think I do. Or maybe I just want to like him, or anyone other than Justin. I’m not even sure anymore. I lean forward and press my lips to his, and will myself to feel something—anything as his kisses me back. I will my heart to beat faster, for my palms to get sweaty, for my nipples to tighten—anything. Only none of that happens.

He’s a nice guy. But nice doesn’t set my skin on fire, doesn’t make my belly fill with butterflies like Justin does. I don’t feel like I’m going to die if he doesn’t get his hands on me in the next four seconds. And none of that is Andy’s fault, but fuck. I hate this.

Just the thought of her with someone else brings out all my protective, caveman instincts. Fuck, it’s not like I’ve been a saint—far from it—but hooking up with someone I won’t ever see again feels a hell of a lot different than Elise developing feelings for someone she’s in a relationship with. I sound like such a hypocrite. Correction, I am a hypocrite.

“Dude, it’s not the playoffs, it’s time to shave the vagina growing on your face,” Teddy says to Owen, shaking his head. I glance over at Owen and can’t help but chuckle. He’s pouting out his lips and damn if I’m not picturing another set of pink lips surrounded by stubble. I shudder. That’s not a mental image you want associated with your best friend.

After an entire day spent travelling, the whole time feeling equal parts terrified but determined that I was going to be a good father, only to find that she had lied to me, I left there in a fog. I spent a sleepless night in a cheap motel by the airport since I couldn’t get a flight out until the following morning. I’d envisioned assembling a crib and painting walls, and maybe getting to listen to the baby’s heartbeat … instead all my life choices suddenly hit me at full force. I laid on a lumpy mattress listening to highway traffic and started to wonder if there was more out there than just meaningless sex.

I know I missed my shot with her, but that doesn’t make the thought of her with someone else sting any less. I’ve had a crazy run over the past few months and my emotions are all over the fucking place.

She can handle herself. I remember that all too well. The way her hands had clamped down on my naked ass to tug me closer, the way she ground her pelvis against mine, seeking her release. The breathy gasps she made into my neck when she came.

I know I don’t deserve a girl like her, I fuck up everything I touch, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting Elise.

I could fuck Elise out of my memory. She’d been the last girl in my bed. I’ve messed around a little, but I haven’t brought anyone else to my bed.

He’d broken up with me over text, saying he thought we’d be better off as friends. I’d replied with the thumbs up emoji. If that doesn’t tell you how broken I am, nothing will. It might have set the world record for the world’s fastest—and least engaging—breakup.

We’re seated near the bay windows and the setting sun and the gray drizzle makes me want to curl up in a cozy sweater and drink hot chocolate, but gossiping and drinking cocktails with my girlfriends is a very close second. I’d asked Becca not to say anything to the girls after my night with Justin. I didn’t think I could handle three sets of sad eyes peering at me with pity. And I’m thankful she’s kept it to herself. Losing your virginity to someone who doesn’t even remember it isn’t exactly a high point in life.

He definitely remembers.

We’re all pleasantly buzzed when the atmosphere in the bar suddenly shifts. Hushed whispers fall over the tables surrounding us and my eyes swing over to the doors just in time to see four hulking hockey players entering the bar. It’s my brother and Justin flanked by Teddy and Asher. These guys would cause a stir wherever they go—they’re young, fit and attractive, but in this city, they’re practically gods. Being professional athletes and part of a popular winning team will do that I guess.

My eyes make a greedy sweep of his tall frame without my brain’s permission. His denim clad thighs are muscular and powerful and his long-sleeve t-shirt stretches tautly across his broad chest. He could pass for a superhero. Or

My cheeks burn with the attention of the entire table now looking at me—notably Justin. His blue gaze feels hot and makes me jittery like there’s suddenly a million butterflies dancing the cha-cha inside my stomach.

I’m sure it’s just a case of him wanting to be nice to the girl who just got her heart broken. Only my heart’s broken for him and not Andy, but I can’t say that. Only Becca knows the truth.

I climb into the black SUV beside him. Just before he closes my door, his eyes meet mine, and I swear I see in them the same look he gave me that night we had sex.

Elise, resting her head against the headrest, inhales audibly, letting her breath out slowly. “It smells like you in here.” I make a confused face. “Ah … my hockey bag’s in the back, so I’m guessing that’s not a compliment.” Hockey equipment is about the worst smelling thing you can imagine, and I’m about to mutter an apology when she shakes her head. “No. It smells like your cologne. Hermès Woods, right?” I nod. How the fuck does she know what kind of cologne I wear? I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.

I’ve been half hard since she followed me out of the bar, as if my dick remembers the last time we were alone together, and he’s ready to be moved from the bench and be put in the game. And the fact that she’s still sitting there breathing in my scent like it’s her own personal version of heaven isn’t helping things.

She’s the one bright spot in my life, and I can’t handle knowing she’s sad. I would make it my personal mission in life to make her happy if I could. Especially since I know I’m at least partly responsible for her heartbreak.

I inhale deeply and pull the car back onto the road after checking my mirrors. She smells so good. Like body wash and Elise—like fresh air and sunshine, and those lemon cocktails she had. Fuck, I want to kiss her.

I swallow down a strange wave of emotion. Man, it feels so good just to be here with her in this moment, talking, laughing. God, I’ve fucking missed this. I’ve missed her friendship more than anything. It’s taken me this exact moment with her laughing beside me to realize just how much I’ve missed it. I have so many regrets, but losing her as a friend is definitely the biggest.

She tucks her hair behind one ear, looking contemplative. God, that hair. Those silky dark waves. I remember exactly what it feels like when my fingers are threaded through it. I remember the smell of her shampoo and how it felt dragging over my chest when she kissed a path along my neck.

But sweet? Me? Yeah, no. Sweet is not an adjective I’d use to describe a guy who takes the v-card of a girl he’s known all of his life and then disappears like a coward. That’s the exact fucking opposite of sweet. A jerkface is more like it.

“I guess I just haven’t found the right girl yet. And even though I’ve never been the relationship-type, part of me wonders if maybe it’s time to grow up.” I don’t mean to be so honest with her, but I’m not lying. It’s not something I’ve ever had before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.

Huge gray eyes look up at mine, and fuck, I’m done. I’m done resisting this girl, with her sweet personality and her quick wit. I’m all wrong for her, but she’s gorgeous and I want this. So fucking badly. Or maybe I just want redemption. Either way, I can’t go on like this.

I lower my mouth toward hers and Elise parts her lips as my mouth meets hers in a slow, tentative kiss. Her shaky breath ghosts over my lips as I go back in for more, deepening our connection and coaxing her tongue out to touch mine. Fuck. It’s electric. I stifle a groan and thread my fingers in the hair at the back of her neck.

She kisses me back and I’m in heaven. The taste of her, the softness of her lips eagerly moving under mine, brings me right back to the first night we kissed in my bedroom. The quiet sounds she makes, the feel of her trembling fingers skimming along my chest…nothing has ever felt more right. I feel so many things in this moment, I can’t even put it into words. The rush of adrenaline. An intense pressure in my groin. She’s kissing me. Open mouthed and hungry. I stroke her tongue with mine, and she makes a low sound in her throat. The noise is something in between a moan and a sigh of relief, and the skin on the back of my neck tingles.

I should regret pushing her into a kiss, but I don’t. It’s never been about winning with her, and I’m not playing a game. All I need is one more shot at redemption, and I’m determined to get it.

He kissed me. Justin Brady was kissing me. On my couch. I’m trying to remember how we arrived at this exact moment. One minute we were eating tacos and talking casually, and then the next his mouth was devouring mine.

While my confused brain is still trying to work out if maybe he’s actually interested in me, my lips start moving. “What are we doing?” I hear myself ask him. I want to slap a hand over my mouth, but then I see Justin thoughtfully weighing my question, and now I want nothing more than to hear his response. I practically hold my breath while I wait for it. “I don’t know. But I’m attracted to you, and I think you’re attracted to me.”

“I guess I just wanted to cheer you up.” His smirk is so deliciously sexy that I have to physically stop myself from pouncing on him. I can think of about a dozen ways he could cheer me up. I could probably even invent a few more.

But then my libido takes a backseat, and my brain kicks back on. I’ve been replaying in my head how this conversation would go for the past three months, and I won’t miss my opportunity. Not now. I can’t. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t address the elephant in the room. I take a deep breath and meet his eyes. “You really don’t remember what happened between us do you? The night you guys beat Detroit in game seven last season ...” He looks down at the ground between our feet. “Yeah,” his voice comes out strained. “I remember.” Wait. What?

“I remember, okay? All of it. Every whimper, every moan, every pant. How perfectly we moved together. How you taste, how your body felt around mine, how soft you felt beneath me. Shit, I remember every-fucking-thing. And I can’t seem to get you out of my head.” His voice is so desperate and gravelly, it pierces straight through my heart. That makes two of us. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

My brain is working overdrive when Justin suddenly stands up to leave. “I’m sorry, I should go.” He can’t go. I stand and do the only thing I can think of. I grab him by the front of his shirt, holding him close. I’m not sure whether to slap him, or kiss him, and the indecision has me paralyzed. What happens next, no matter which outcome, will change the course of our friendship completely. It’s then I realize that I’m shaking. My entire body is trembling, and I have no idea why. Maybe it’s because three months of feeling like a miserable piece of shit is a long time and between the break up and the alcohol and the kissing, I feel emotionally exhausted and confused.

“Hey, it’s okay. Breathe for me.” I draw a slow, shuddering inhale. Justin continues gazing at me with that curious, watchful stare I can’t decipher. ”Let’s sit down.” He lowers us to the couch and his fingers gently touch the back of my neck, caress along my jawline, and raw emotion riots inside me.

I need him to keep pretending that night never happened—that I mean nothing to him. Less than nothing. My heart won’t be able to take him being sweet to me. I know we don’t have a future, I’ve accepted that. And broken, manwhore Justin Brady looking at me with heat in his eyes will only lead to trouble. Won’t it?

I search for reasons why we can’t continue that kiss, and nothing else exists but the hungry way he’s looking at me, the worried emotion in his dark gaze. Pressing closer, I crash my mouth against his again. He makes a noise of surprise in the back of his throat, but it only takes a moment before he brings both hands to my jaw, kissing me deeply, his tongue reaching out to stroke mine.

He kisses me again, his tongue eagerly tangling with mine. His kisses are sooo good. I’ve never been kissed like this. So deep and demanding and hard. He kisses like he plays hockey—with complete confidence and laser focus.

Using my grip on his shirt, I tug him closer and we fall back onto the couch together, me on my back with him on top of me. He balances his weight on his forearms as he hovers over me, caging me in with his massive biceps and firm hips. There is nowhere I’d rather be in this moment. Which is crazy right? I should be mad at him. And maybe I am a little, but I’ve spent months agonizing over that night. Now the only thing that makes sense is erasing that memory with a better one.

Justin’s lips leave my neck and his cock immediately stops grinding against my core. I miss the feel of him instantly. Damn it. I’ve been cock-blocked by my own brother.

I’d told Becca about the kiss Justin and I shared. Well, it was more than just a kiss. Remembering the way his hard body caged mine in against my couch while we grinded together has inspired new fantasies every night for the past week. Which is unfortunately almost as long as it’s been since I’ve seen him. We’ve both had busy weeks, and we can’t exactly parade this little fling in front of my brother. Which has meant we haven’t gotten any time to explore that kiss further, but I plan on changing that tonight.