Winger (Seattle Sharks 3)

“Did you meet someone over there?” Gage asked, sweat rolling down his face. From how hard we hit the ice, we were all drenched. I wiped some away with the back of my arm.

“Nah, man. Of course, not.”

How could I when I couldn’t get Jeannine’s flavor off my tongue?

The sound of my name on her lips when she moaned.

The way she pushed back with every ounce of fire inside her, never giving an inch.

“Then why aren’t you pining over the loss of all your contacts?” Rory asked.

Good question. One I didn’t have time or energy to puzzle out.

“Because,” I said. “It was months ago. I’m over it.” I shook my head. “And besides,” I continued. “I legit texted you two my new number like the second day out there. We talked.”

They laughed at that.

“We talked maybe a handful of times,” Gage said.

“And?”

“And it was only when we called you,” Rory added.

I punched Gage in the chest. “Aww, were you guys hurt I didn’t check in every night before bedtime? Don’t you have your wives for that kind of cuddly-crap?”

Rory and Gage shared a look before rolling their eyes.

“Anyway,” I said, ready to get off the topic. “I’m back now. What did I miss?”

“Not much,” Gage said. “Lettie is slaying kindergarten.” I noted the hint of fear creep across his eyes before he blinked it away. “The rookie stepped up all season. Reaching out. Came to a couple of poker games.”

“No shit?” I glanced to Rory for confirmation. He nodded. “Whoa,” I said. “You trying to replace me with a younger model?”

“No, dear,” Gage said. “Bentley is trying. So am I. We both know I won’t be a Shark forever.” He rolled his shoulder almost subconsciously. “I feel good knowing I’ve at least groomed the kid constantly vying for my spot.”

I nodded, my respect for Gage never ceasing to deepen. The man had been through hell and back—the battle with his ex-wife, the securing custody of his daughter, an injury that almost took him off the ice for good, falling for his best friend, a new baby boy he’d never thought he was capable of having—all of it could’ve broken a lesser man. And now Gage was helping the rookie instead of fighting him.

“I still knock his ass around on the ice,” Rory said.

I laughed. “Naturally.”

“But now it doesn’t end in smartass remarks. Well, not always,” Gage said. “Mostly it’s all about bettering himself. His technique. Wait till you see him.”

“Oh, I’m holding my breath.”

Gage punched me on the shoulder for the sarcastic remark.

“Anything else I missed? How are the girls?”

Gage tilted his head. “I already told you—”

Rory laughed, a shit-eating grin on his face. “He means Bailey, Paige, and Jeannine, not Bailey and Lettie.”

I swallowed hard, glaring at Rory.

“What?” He shrugged. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I kept my lips sealed.

“Oh, come on, man,” he continued. “I saw you two before you left. At the bar? It looked like you were about to—”

“You know I never kiss and tell,” I cut him off.

And I didn’t. Not even with the guys. Sometimes, they saw a woman leaving my apartment, and there was no denying it. But they hadn’t seen Jeannine, and I hadn’t told them a thing about that night.

Maybe because it had lingered.

Left a sweet craving in my mouth.

Maybe it was because she was friends with their wives and I felt like I’d crossed some sort of line.

Maybe it was all bull shit.

“Paige is fantastic,” Rory said, a faraway look in his eyes. “Motherhood has turned her into a damn goddess. And Daphne…” He chuckled. “She’s got me wrapped around her tiny little finger.”

“That’s awesome, man,” I said, smacking his chest hard enough to make him wince. “Can’t believe I get to be an uncle three times over.” Lettie, Ethan, and Daphne were three slices of perfection—made more so that I could love them and then give them back to their parents at the end of the night. All fun, no work.

“Right?” Gage asked, tilting his head at me. “Wait till you see how big Ethan and Daphne have gotten. You’re going to want one of your own.”

A sharp laugh. “I’m not dad material,” I said. “You both know that.”

“You think either of us were before we got the call?” Rory looked between Gage and me.

“True,” Gage said. “You don’t know until you know.”

“Well, I know,” I said. “Hockey is my life. And when that’s over…”

I knew I only had a few prime years left—sure, I could push it well into my forties, but those guys usually ended up with all kinds of injuries.

No, I wanted to retire in style. But until then, I’d be the best at the one thing I’d ever been good at—hockey. And after that…then who knows? Maybe I would want to be a dad like my friends. Maybe not.

So many maybes today.

“How is Jeannine?” I couldn’t help but ask. I’d bounced around the question, and neither of them had taken the bait.

“She’s good,” Gage said, glancing at Rory.

“We think,” Rory added.

Something twisted my gut. “What do you mean, you think?”

Rory shrugged. “She’s been wrapped up in her restaurant,” he said. “Has some kind of huge investment banquet in a couple months. Trying to get the funds and go-ahead for another location.”

“We haven’t seen her,” Gage said. “Bailey and Paige always go to her place when their schedules come together.”

“But hopefully that’ll die down after this banquet stuff is over,” Rory said. “I miss her cooking.” He jolted, his eyes darting around the empty rink. “Don’t tell Paige I said that.”

We laughed and then something hot and pulsing snaked through my blood.

If Jeannine was stressed over this investment business, who better to offer her a little release? The idea simmered in my blood, begging me to head to Nine’s—her flagship restaurant—right now and see if she was game.

Fuck, just the flash of her riding me had me growing hard right here in my gear.

What the hell?

I hadn’t gotten hard for any bunny who hopped my way at the Olympics—hell, I hadn’t even touched one—and one thought of Jeannine needing me, needing that sweet relief, had me raging while talking to my boys.

The woman had definitely placed voodoo on my dick.

“Speak of the red-headed devil,” Rory said, sliding across the ice like a magnet pulled him. A flash of red hair, then brown.

Gage skated over as quickly as Rory had.

Bailey held their fourteen-month-old son on her hip, planting a quick but thorough kiss on Gage’s lips.

Paige had Daphne in some sort of cloth wrap contraption, the little redhead sleeping soundly against her mom’s chest, despite the kiss Rory planted on her.

I dropped the puck on the ice, shuffling it with my stick, keeping my eyes focused on the black against the white in an attempt to not be a third-wheel to the uber-love fest. They were blocking the exit to the locker rooms, and while I totally wanted to hold both babies, I wasn’t about to brave smacking lips and love-struck sharks to do it.

“Warren,” Jeannine’s voice struck a hot chord through the center of my body, and I snapped my eyes up.

The woman was like a lightning strike—sharp, stunning and dangerously beautiful. Her long blond hair was gathered in a messy knot on her head, her face fresh, her kissable lips pink and perfect. I skated over to her with a sly grin on my face.

It had been six months.

Six months of obsessing about her laugh, the way she took a shot, the way she dug her nails into my back. I could practically taste her kiss, feel her silk folds against my tongue.

Lock it up.

I’d never reacted this wa

y to a woman before. Especially not one I had a one-night-stand with, but what could I say? Jeannine had done something to me.

Voodoo. Right.

The blades of my skates shredded ice as I skidded to a halt before her. I trailed my eyes up and down her body, and my heart fucking stopped.

My brain slowed down, moving at a snail’s pace.

First, I saw her belly—round and beautiful under her tight black shirt, like she’d swallowed a basketball.

Second, something warm pulsed in my blood with how damn sexy she looked in those yoga pants and comfy boots. I’d never seen the woman without her six-inch heels.

Third, anger roared in my chest, and I gripped my stick so hard I was shocked it didn’t snap.

No one had told me she was pregnant.

The guys hadn’t mentioned she was totally off the market.

Damn it.

A weight in my chest dropped all the way to my stomach, and I glared at the guys.

Bailey and Paige were tugging them away, Gage and Rory both looking shocked.

I flashed them a look that promised I’d deal with them later.

“Jeannine,” I said, finally, trying not to snap.

She didn’t belong to me.

We’d never said we were anything more than one wild night, but fuck me if I hadn’t wanted to repeat it.

“Warren,” she said again, her chest rising with a deep breath.

Some primal instinct deep inside me twitched at the way her swollen breasts moved.

God, they were perfect before but now they seemed so much more supple, round, begging for a bite.

“You’re back,” she said.

“Congratulations are in order it seems,” I said, motioning toward her gorgeous belly. “Who is the lucky man who tied down the wild Nine?”

I hated that I sounded bitter. We’d both agreed there were no strings between us. That was always the arrangement for anyone I took to bed, and the women knew it up front. And it was six months ago.

Still.

I couldn’t resist the urge to seek the fucker out who stole my second shot with her and pummel him into the pavement.

A dark laugh tumbled from her lips, her eyes glittering with a sharp edge. “You’re joking right?”

I raised my brows. “Excuse me?”

Did she not want me to congratulate her?

Would she rather I show her how irrationally angry I really am?