Page 51 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

It’s strange. He’s definitely flirting with me, but not in a wholly discomforting way. I’m sure this schtick works well on other girls, but he’s a devious one. This guy wouldn’t just distract a girl, he’d take her whole breath away with relentless fervor.

“Try it and tell me it isn’t better,” he says, his tone cocky like he knows he’s about to win me over the second I taste his creation.

I take a sip, and the involuntary smile that threatens to take over can’t be helped. I try hiding it against the rim of the cup, but it’s too late, he can obviously tell I like it because he shines perfect white teeth back at me.

I throw him a suspicious glare.

“ Magic ,” he emphasizes, his equally cocky grin and spirit fingers telling me he believes in every bit of his own ‘supernatural’ talent.

When I take a second sip, I practically moan.

It’s fucking delicious and getting the job done.

My tension eases while I stand in the kitchen of my first college party—at the hockey house of all places—surrounded by peers who I’ve never so much as bothered to learn the names of before now.

I’m pretty sure at least half of the business school is here as well as every major sport athlete.

I take another sip, while my new friend makes his own goddamn drink.

“This is so much better.” I lick my lips, tasting the blend of sweet juice and strong liquor against my tongue. “Thank you.”

God, I needed this.

“It’s been my absolute pleasure, beautiful.” He taps his cup with mine in a toast, and I guzzle another mouthful. He chuckles as he follows suit, scooting in closer. “Now that I’ve done my civic duty, why don’t you tell me what someone as hot as you is doing here all by herself.”

He sets his drink down beside mine, resting his arm above me against the upper cabinets, his biceps flexing. It’s not entirely repulsive but . . .

“Oh, umm, well you see . . .”

He steps in closer, leaning down to speak in my ear. “Please tell me you came here alone.”

“I . . .”

“She’s with me.” Lucien’s voice cuts through the tension so deep I feel impaled, both with the relief that he didn’t abandon me and the fear that he thinks I’m flirting back.

“You’re back.” The words ghost over my tongue like a whisper as I relish his return. I almost don’t believe my eyes since he’s clearly changed clothes. He’s sporting a dark gray track jacket paired with dark distressed jeans, a plain black tee, and laced combat boots now.

Where the hell did he get clothes from? And why the hell does he look so damn good in them?

I clear my throat, attempting to move, when it dawns on me there’s nowhere to go. I’ve made this corner my new home.

Chauncey’s the one who steps back, releasing me from my cove, but I don’t feel any less trapped. Not with Lucien here. With Lucien around, I feel bound. And whatever anxiety I felt about him walking away from me is only temporarily staved off.

“There’s no way he’s with a girl like you ,” Chauncey snorts. “A delicate thing like you doesn’t belong on a leash. You could do a lot better than him. You should explore all of your options tonight,” he admonishes, using the back of his hand to stroke down my arm as he speaks.

I flinch at his unexpected touch, subtly pulling away. And of course, Lucien notices.

“Touch her again and I’ll rip your fucking tongue out, Chauncey,” Lucien seethes, vitriol spilling from every word with an oddly relaxed demeanor. His arms are folded, but he doesn’t look particularly angry. The anger clings to me instead.

Where does this Calvin Klein reject get off trying to tell me I don’t belong with Lucien?

I hold my drink out for Lucien to hold before stepping up to Chauncey, running my hands from his lackluster abs to his stubby cock.

I don’t know if it’s actually stubby, and there’s nothing lackluster about him, but that isn’t very well the point. He insulted me first.

“I assure you I’m not that delicate,” I say, squeezing his balls so hard he crumbles forward at my feet.

“Fuck fuck okay okay, please let go of my dick!” He squeals.

“Oh, is that what I’m holding? I was aiming for your balls. Are you telling me this is it? All that you have to offer me?” I pout.

I make a show of looking at my hand cupped between his legs.

“Fuck, you’re crazy man,” he whines.

I tilt my head, “I thought I was delicate. I think I’m doing you a service. Lucien wanted to rip your tongue out. At least this way you’re getting exactly what you wanted right? Me, touching your dick?”

I squeeze harder.

“Look, I’m sorry. I was just joking, okay? You guys make a beautiful couple. Honestly. You have my full support.”

I give him a bright smile, one equal to his oh-so-charming one.

“Aww, you think so, I was kind of worried you wouldn’t approve. You sure you’re okay with this?” I ask, my tone, frosted thickly in sarcasm.

“Ah fuck, Lucien, please make her stop.” Chauncey pleads, looking over to Lucien who’s beside himself with laughter.

Lucien is of no help to his teammate, he’s laughing so hard his whole body is vibrating and he’s keeled over, two seconds away from dropping my delicious drink made special just for me.

Chauncey glowers at a useless Lucien and I take advantage of his distraction.

“I have a confession, Chauncey.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” he grits through his clenched teeth, baring the pain I’m inflicting as he braces a hand on the counter.

I lean forward, my lips ghosting the shell of his ear.

“Your begging is turning me on,” I whisper, pulling back to catch the look on his face.

My smile is wide, all teeth and venom, when he looks up at me with those Swedish blues, brighter and more luminous than my own.

For a moment, those swimming-pool eyes I’m sure women find themselves backstroking in the longer they stare, look as though he’d gladly still fuck me.

But what was once a carefree allurement slowly transforms into legitimate fear.

I’m so startled by the shift I squeeze tighter.

“ Lucien ,” Chauncey whines, dragging out the name.

Lucien clears his throat to stop laughing.

“Alright, Princess, let him go. Chauncey isn’t so bad; he just made an error in judgment. Right, Chaunce?”

I loosen my hold, but don’t let go completely.

Chauncey’s head bobbles up and down, almost animatedly. “Please. I’m sorry . I didn’t mean anything by it. I swear. It won’t happen again, just . . . fuck, please let go of my dick.”

It was fascinating, to be in a position of power, to see big powerful men cower and beg.

To have someone suffer the consequence of underestimating me.

I can’t lie, I would very much like to see it again, but one arched brow from Lucien draws me back from that perilous edge and I let him go, feeling kind of guilty at my behavior, but mostly, I feel uneasy.

For the most part, Chauncey had actually been nice to me.

He wasn’t like the grubby old guys I was forced to mingle with back home, or the clout-chasing mama’s boys who thought they’d use my status and body for their own gain.

Chauncey is one of Lucien’s teammates. I might have crossed a serious line by hurting him.

Jesus, what is wrong with me? I don’t hurt people, that’s not me. I’m a good person.

Affixing a less sinister smile to my lips, I aim for contrition. “Sorry about that.” I reach out to pat his shoulder as he straightens up, but he flinches away from touch. I can’t blame him.

Taking a step back, he wags a finger between Lucien and I. “Yep, I change my mind. You two were made for each other,” Chauncey chides.

My face heats and I work to stop the blush from creeping across my cheeks, I really do, but it’s in vain.

Based on the look they’re both giving me, my cheeks are blooming bright red.

I flit a sheepish look to the floor tiles, unable to hide my secret glee.

Though I still feel bad, I love the idea of being made for Lucien.

Chauncey grumbles something incoherent as he slinks away, and Lucien starts laughing even harder, so hard he’s the one doubled over now.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Lucien chuckles.

“I’m sorry, it’s just . . .” I huff. “He called me delicate .”

Lucien’s chuckles soften to a less hysterical snicker. “What’s wrong with being delicate?”

Amused as he is, the guy still oozes sexual energy, tapping at my arms that have magically wrapped themselves around my middle. It shoots a spark through me whenever we touch and some of the tension falls away when I drop them to my sides.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re more twitchy than usual,” he twiddles two fingers, gesturing between my eyes.

“I am not twitchy, I’m upset.”

“Care to share with the rest of the class? I’m a great listener.”

“No,” I snap.

His glare intensifies.

I sigh, “Yes”

He moves in closer. Encroaching on my corner of the kitchen. He’s even closer than Chauncey was, more blatant and a thousand times more tempting to boot but I don’t move. I stand there frozen, afraid of what I’ll do if I dare move even a centimeter.

His fingers swoop my curled tendrils behind my ear and I can feel his eyes on me while I actively avoid them. I thought I could do this, but it’s only getting harder. When I’m sure I won’t blurt anything out or go running to throw myself off the nearest bridge, I crane my neck.

“It doesn’t suit me,” I relent, tracing his sharp features, imagining the feel of him, before returning his gaze. “I am not some fragile thing that has to be handled with care.”

I’m not sure which of us drew forward, but somehow, we’re closer now. His scent of peppermint and leather enveloping me in a tight cocoon.

Nuzzling my hair, his lips trail a path along my forehead, and he leaves a kiss on my temple. I shudder beneath his touch, his affection. “God, Princess you have no idea how bad I hope that’s true.”