Shep does not “just leave it”. He knocks into me with his shoulder, the childish bro-jock thing we do when we’re pissed and can’t let something go. After a game is the worst time for this shit. I’m guilty of it, too. I shove him right the fuck back.
“Fuck off, Shep.”
“Fuck you, Ace.”
It’s a wonder our towels remain intact during our off-ice shoving match. Bender pulls me off Shep as Justin pulls Shep off me. Coach and Luke barrel in.
“What’s going on in here, McKinnon?” Coach asks me directly—it’s part of being team captain stuff. Also, part of being team captain is refraining from senseless fights, but know what? I’m not gonna pretend I’m perfect, nor will I throw Shep under the bus. I did this shit; I’ll take responsibility for it.
“I apologize, Coach. Won’t happen again.”
Luke steps forward. “I think I know what’s going on. Come with me, McKinnon.”
I look between the two brothers. Coach looks ready to explode at Shep, so … yeah, I’ll take door number Luke.
I follow him down the hallway, hyper-aware that all I’m wearing is a towel and my shower sandals.
We head across the hall to the visiting coach’s office. “Shut the door, McKinnon. Lock it,” he adds.
I do all of that, but when I face him, it’s with my arms crossed. I’m not in the mood for him if I’m being honest.
He pats the desk with that big hand of his. “Sit.”
“Why?”
“Because I fucking told you to, princess.”
A shiver tingles down my spine. Goddammit. That still works.
I slide my ass onto the desk. Thin towel, bare ass, zero chill. My thick legs spread naturally, and the towel couldn’t hide a needle, let alone my quickly forming boner.
I lift my chin, taking the high road, arms crossed like armor. I will not snark at him. Probably. I also won’t notice the way he’s removing his blazer from his overly large body. He sets his steely gaze on me while he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls up his sleeves.That’s not supposed to be hot, but it’s so damn hot my lungs forget how to work.
“I’m trying to decide whether I should turn you over my knee and spank your ass or suck your soul through your cock.”
I hold up my hand like I would in class. “Do I get a vote?”
“What do you think?”
Sighing, I recross my arms.
He steps closer, knocking my legs open wider, stepping between them. He taps my crossed arms. “This means no to me. I’m not into lack of consent, McKinnon, so either uncross these and I’ll continue, or keep them crossed and I’ll respect your boundary.”
Fuck.
There should be a middle option. The kind where he makes me, and I pretend to fight it, but we both know I want it.
It takes all my willpower to uncross my arms. Not because I don’t want him, but because I do, and I need him to know I’m still mad. Dropping my arms to my sides, I resist the urge to put them on him, planting my palms on the desk.
“Good boy,” he says softly.
Heat flashes up my neck, and I glance away. He doesn’t let me, tilting my chin up with a single finger.
“You don’t get to hide from me. I upset you, and I want to explain.”
He squints, twists my head to the side, analyzing my upper browbone where that butterfly bandage cuts into my skin.
“Fucking hack job,” he mutters. “I’m fixing this as soon as we’re back in our hotel room, where I have a proper first aid kit.”
