Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1) (13 page)

The hall starts to clear, and I begin thinking he's either snuck out a back door or he's meeting with Coach Bishop. Finally, the doors open and he walks out, smiling when he sees me leaning against the wall. His smile beckons me over, and without a second thought, I catch him by surprise and launch myself in his arms. He stumbles but circles his arms around me as I wrap my legs around his waist. His brows draw together in confusion when I lean forward and plant a kiss on his cheek.

"What was that for?" Our foreheads meet, and we quietly stare into one another's eyes. A moment passes between us, and I wonder if he has any idea what being this close does to me. There are times we're together when the he way he looks at me pierces my soul. Swallowing my emotions, I release my hold and lower my legs to the floor.

"I got my test back today." I reach down and retrieve a piece of paper from my backpack. I hand it over and watch as a smile fills his gorgeous face when he sees my grade. Without warning, he picks me back up and spins me around. I squeal with delight when he spins me three more times before setting me down once more. His hands rest on my elbows until I'm steady on my feet, and I'm still giggling when he lowers his head and kisses the corner of my mouth.

"You got a B+! I'm so proud of you. We have to celebrate. You don't have any plans tonight, do you?" I grab my backpack and we head outside.

"No, why, what do you have in mind?" My legs work double time to keep up.

"Tequila shots. You and me. My place. Let's go." He reaches out and laces his fingers through mine. As if the near kiss hadn't been enough to get me going, his warm skin against mine makes the area between my legs tingle with desire. Desire that won't be satisfied until later tonight when I'm home alone.

BRANTLEY

I line up four shot glasses on my dresser then look to my right and find her staring up at me with wide eyes. Normally, I would be downstairs drinking shots with the guys, but tonight is all about Cassie. Passing that test the way she did is definitely worthy of a celebratory shot, or three. It's not my intention to get her drunk; she's far too tiny to put down a lot of liquor. I have to be very careful, because she's my best friend's little sister,
and
she's underage. Besides, I don't want to get drunk. Not because I don't enjoy alcohol, but because I don't want to lose control and do anything stupid. Coach has a rule about us drinking during season, but that doesn't stop us from partaking in a few beers every now and again.

"Okay, so you said you've never drunk tequila, right?" I ask as I finish setting up our drinking station. She quickly nods, leaning closer to observe as I demonstrate the proper technique. Holding my thumb and forefinger apart, I point to the soft webbing between the two digits. "See this area here? Give it a lick, then sprinkle on some salt," I show her what I mean. "Take the lime in the same hand and your shot in the other. Lick. Drink. Suck." I raise my glass and give a quick toast. "Here's to kicking calculus' ass!" I follow each step before slamming the glass back down.

"That looks easy enough." Her lips part, and the tip of her tongue darts out to moisten her skin before tipping the shaker like I showed her. She brings the glass to her wet lips and shudders as the liquor burns its way down.

"How was it?" I laugh as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Not as bad as I expected, but I don't like licking the salt off my hand. That just feels gross." She scrunches up her tiny nose in disgust as I pour two more.

"Tell you what, you can lick my hand this time." I swipe my tongue over the salty skin before coating it with more salt and holding it out in front of her. She leans forward, taking my hand between both of hers, then slowly licks away every grain of salt before knocking back the shot and reaching for the lime. My dick hardens as the memory of her tongue on my skin leaves me ready to lose control. It's all I can do to swallow as my throat threatens to constrict.

Wtf was that?

"Let's watch a movie," she announces in a voice that's slightly elevated. The flush on her cheeks tells me the alcohol is working, though I'm not shocked, because she doesn't weigh more than a hundred pounds. She drops to her knees and scrambles over to my rack of DVDs to select one. I toss back one more shot then turn on the T.V. and settle in on the bed to wait. After a minute she pops back up with her selection and places it in the player.

"Sweet Home Alabama?" I cock my head in question when the title appears on the screen. "I don't own this movie."

"I know. I snuck it in earlier this week. I love this movie, and it's much more fun to watch with a guy than it is to sit home alone and watch it like a lovesick sap." She crawls in next to me with her head at the foot of the bed. Her feet rest beside my ribs, and every once in a while she crosses her feet in the air. She's wearing the same blue polish as before, and a thin, silver band adorns one of her toes.

The movie goes on, and I have to admit it's not as bad as I'd originally suspected. It's a sappy love story, but with a comedic twist. Halfway through the movie, I find myself rooting for the guy to just take her in his arms and lay one on her. By now, Cassie's toes have found a home between my fingers as I use my thumbs to massage the balls of her feet. Neither of us speak as we pretend to be engrossed in the movie, but her soft moans tell me she enjoys what I'm doing a hell of a lot more than watching former lovers try to connect. And I have to admit, I'm enjoying the hell out of making her moan.

I don't recall falling asleep, but I wake to find Cassie wrapped in my arms. The end of the movie is a blur, though I seem to recall them kissing on the beach. Her back is flush with my chest, and soft hair tickles my cheek as I work to shake off the fog of sleep. I shift my position and she presses further into me, and of course my dick chooses that moment to react. We're both fully dressed, but there's no denying my hard-on.

"Brantley," her soft voice breaks through the quiet. "Please tell me you're wearing pants this time." The giggle is out before she even finishes her sentence, and soon we're both laughing quietly, remembering the first time we'd woken up in my bed. The funny thing is, even though we're both awake, neither of us has made an attempt at breaking away. Instead, I pull her close and drop a kiss on her jaw.

"Good morning, sweetheart. I love waking up to find you in my bed." She huffs and swings a pillow at my head before getting up and shuffling to the bathroom. I get up, run a hand through my hair, and quickly straighten the bed just in case anyone chooses this moment to walk in. The house is silent, so maybe they are still sleeping. I pick up the glasses and saltshaker and take them back to the kitchen. When I make it back to the bedroom, I find her sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands in her lap. "You okay? You don't have a headache or anything, do you?"

"No, I'm good. Listen, about last night... I didn't do anything stupid, like throw myself at you again, did I?"

My hand immediately goes to my chest in a show of mock disappointment. "Gosh, Dimples, it was so beautiful. We kissed, we did things to each other's bodies. We made sweet, passionate love, and you told me that no other man will ever satisfy you the way I do. Frankly, I'm hurt that you don't remember." It's hard keeping a straight face when I see the look of panic on hers. When she sees I'm only kidding, she quickly stands and marches over.

"Ugh! You big jerk. For a second I believed you!" She punches me in the arm before shoving me out of the way. "Goodbye, Brantley."

"I'll call you later, okay, baby?" I call after her retreating form.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." She throws up her hand and takes off. I wait for the sound of the closing door before doubling over in laughter.

***

Cage, wait up!" I pause and turn to find Rivers making his way out of the locker room. When he finally catches up, he falls in step with me as we exit the arena and make our way to the adjacent parking lot. Thanks to the 3-1 win in last week's opening game, tonight's practice had been cut short by thirty minutes. I'm grateful, because we have late practice on Mondays, and this way I have more free time to get a jump-start on some of my assignments. I've always found it easier to be ahead of things, because once the season gets rolling, we'll be spending more and more time on the ice, and I really hate trying to do homework while riding on a bus. Our first away game is this weekend, two games at Kohl Center in Wisconsin. Even though it's early in the season, we're pretty confident in bringing home another victory.

"You looked sharp out there tonight. I think Kazmerski's going to shit his pants when he sees you coming after him this year," he says, referring to Wisconsin's top senior defenseman.

I huff out a laugh in agreement. "That's what I'm counting on, my friend. That, and the hope he hasn't grown another two inches. You heading out with Ash tonight?"

"Nah, she's got some chick thing going on over at her apartment, bunch of girls getting together to drink wine and watch Magic Mike XXL."

"Definitely sounds like something to steer clear of," I say, tossing my gear into the backseat. "She didn't happen to invite Cassie, did she?"

He frowns before responding. "I'm pretty sure she didn't. Why, are you suddenly concerned about whom my girlfriend spends her time with?"

"I'm not. I just thought since Cassie was relatively new to the area, and on occasion I've seen them talking during practice. I don't know, I guess I thought maybe they got along."

"I think they get along just fine, but Ash has this circle of friends, and they only get together once a month. Honestly, I don't give a shit. It gives me a night off. Speaking of which, you want to head over to Skeeps? First two rounds are on me." He spins his keys on his finger while waiting for my answer.

I answer, yes, of course. Scott is my best friend, and I couldn't tell you the last time just the two of us went out for a drink at the bar. Hell, this used to be our regular thing, but something had happened between he and Ashley over the summer that turned him into a whipped puppy dog.

We drop our cars at the apartment and make the short walk to the bar. After securing two seats, Scott wastes no time ordering up a couple of beers and two shots a piece. We spend a few minutes greeting a few of our teammates and other faces that recognize us, then he leans back on his stool and studies me with great intensity.

"What is it?" I finally ask after his staring starts to make me nervous.

"How are things going with Cassie? Is she making it hard on you? Math has never been her best subject." He takes a swig of beer.

Memories of her making me hard flash through my head, and the alcohol nearly chokes me on its way down. But I don't dare joke about that, not where Cassie is concerned. I almost feel bad thinking those thoughts about her.
Almost
.

"Actually, it's quite the opposite. She works hard and pulled a B+ on her test." I give my shoulder a casual shrug.

"So that's it? A few nights of tutoring and you go your separate ways?" He throws this out there as if he could care less what my answer will be, but I know better.

"I'm not really sure," I answer honestly. "I enjoy spending time with her. She's really easy to talk to and we get along pretty well. She did mention needing more help preparing for her mid-term, so I'll probably hang around for that."

His lips practically disappear as he processes my confession, but he surprises me by encouraging me to keep hanging out with her.

"Listen, Cage, I really appreciate you looking out for her this way. I know the transition hasn't been easy for her. She left a pretty serious relationship to come here. I think she's still dealing with the breakup. Just do me a favor and keep your hands to yourself," he says it in a joking manner, but his threat comes through loud and clear.

"I've already told you, she's just a friend."
A friend with the sweetest lips I've ever tasted
. It's in this moment I'm thankful I have a really good poker face, 'cause I have a feeling if he knew of the dreams I've had, we'd be having an entirely different conversation.

He claps me on the shoulder then grabs his beer before standing. "I'm just giving you a hard time, buddy. You know I trust you implicitly. Now, I'm gonna kick your ass in a game of darts."

"Oh, yeah? You really think you can beat me?" I tease. "Have you forgotten about the last time we played in this very bar? I seem to recall being the one to serve up the ass whipping." He laughs, and it's a rich sound I've grown fond of hearing over the years. I get up and follow, knowing I should feel relieved he's okay that I'm spending so much time with Cassie, but I can't shake the nagging feeling I'm already treading on thin ice, only I just don't know it yet.

CASSIE

I rap my knuckles loudly against the cool metal one final time and adjust the strap of the guitar case hanging on my shoulder. When he doesn't answer, I assume he's not home, or with one of those annoying puck bunnies always hanging around. I never bothered to tell him I might be stopping by. Seeing as how I know his schedule by heart, I assumed he would be home. We've spent the better part of three weeks together under the guise of tutoring, but mostly we hang out and watch Sons of Anarchy. Sometimes we talk about things that are bothering us. Half the time I'm complaining about my brother, while his only gripe seems to be centered around the lack of unity on the team. He's not the only one feeling it. I've also heard Scotty mention it, and Davis was going on and on about it over lunch yesterday.

As far as I'm concerned, my brother couldn't have chosen three nicer guys to live with. They always welcome me with a warm greeting, and they're quick to include me when I'm caught sitting alone in the dining hall. In fact, Davis and I have taken to eating lunch together every Wednesday since we first ran into one another on our way to the dining hall.

Three minutes have lapsed since I last knocked and I finally accept the fact he's not home. Just as I'm stepping off the porch, I hear a thumping noise behind me as the door swings open to reveal Brantley. Allow me to rephrase that. A very wet Brantley, with a towel tied low on his hips, tattoos on full display.