Page 63 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

“It’s the truth. I-I came up here looking for you .

. . but then I figured I’d wait up here and surprise you.

When I realized you weren’t alone, I hid.

I didn’t expect . . . I didn’t mean to interrupt your .

. . moment.” I spew the last word, throwing a hand in his captain’s direction, still poised on his knees after sucking off my .

. . whatever he is to me— was to me. Any attempts at keeping the attitude out of my voice all but fail. I’m furious, and he knows it.

Lucien chuckles, leaning back against his bed without a care in the world. “You didn’t interrupt anything. I knew you were here,” he says.

Trevor turns his glare on Lucien, standing to his full height that does little to intimidate Lucien, but instantly sets me on edge. He wipes his chin with a single thumb, smearing the wetness on his jeans.

“ Relax ,” Lucien croons, tucking his cock haphazardly back into his pants. “She’s not going to say anything, are you, Little Stalker Princess?”

He turns to pin me with a singular look that says, I dare you to betray my trust .

I huff an astonished breath. It’s comical really, considering he betrayed mine.

Why shouldn’t I return the favor? It’s what a Sinclair would do and it’s what he deserves, but the truth is I would never. I could never.

“I’m not a stalker,” I grumble.

Lucien leans forward, cupping his hand up to his ear, pretending he’s hard of hearing.

“What was that, Little Stalker? You’re literally still in the closet.

” He chuckles heartedly, his whole body emitting a frequency that stokes my insides.

“You’re so fucking crazy, I love it,” he muses, leaning back against the bed, his arm spread over the neatly tucked comforter.

My temperature ramps up, and my arms fold in on itself as I remain closeted, afraid to leave this spot because otherwise . . . I’ll fall victim to his words again. He’ll suck me in and I won’t escape his draw.

“It was an accident. I panicked . I don’t even see how you knew I was in here,” I sneer, hoping my bad attitude will keep him at bay.

But, fuck, it only fuels his steps as he stands and makes his way over to me.

He doesn’t just eat the space between us, he absorbs it in three easy strides with pupils ablaze, a hazardous lust-filled gaze causing me to stagger. Trevor stands his ground, watching as Lucien reaches for me.

Holding my face in his hands, his left thumb strokes my cheeks with such tenderness I rear back in anger.

How dare he be soft with me now? I slap his hands away but he’s faster, stronger.

His hand thrusts out again, wrapping around the back of my neck, practically dragging me out of my safe space—like he’s been doing all night.

He squeezes my cheeks in a familiar roughness I’ve grown accustomed to as he pulls me toward him.

“I always know when you’re near,” he growls, bringing his face so close to mine we share one breath. “I know the scent of you, the feel of you.” I grab one of his wrists, my nails clawing into his flesh, drawing blood this time.

He doesn’t let up, and I’m not actually pulling him off, just reflecting the pain I feel inside.

“Plus,” the pad of his thumb from his free hand swipes beneath my eyes, coming away with some of my tears.

He licks them off and hums, “I heard those sweet cries of yours. I almost came all down Trev’s throat as you stood there and cried for me.

” I pull my face away again, glaring at his precious Trevor who ruined what was turning out to be the best day ever as promised.

But he stares back at me, in a way that suggests I’m the one who ruined his night.

“Why is he here, anyway?” I snap; my eyes trained on his friend and captain.

Lucien steps away, strolling over to lean against one of the iron bed posts at the foot of the bed again.

“Down, Princess, it’s alright. We like Trevor. Trevor is a friend,” he placates.

“He hit you,” I remind him, gritting the words.

He just grins. “Yeah, I know. He’s one of the select few I don’t put it past to give as much as he takes .” His eyes twinkle. “But Trevor here is not our enemy, I promise.” He holds up two fingers like a Boy Scout while Trevor smirks.

I roll my eyes.

“Know anybody else who could hit me and remain standing after the fact?” Lucien queries.

I mutter some choice profanities under my breath in response but neglect to give him a real answer.

He makes a decent point I guess. His other victims of the night haven’t been as lucky as the captain but I’m past caring.

He wants to bloody his knuckles some more, fine.

He wants to get hit in the face and fuck his hockey captain, I’ll let him.

It’s not my problem—it never was.

He’s not mine.

I look away, unable to stand the sight of either of them. I’m too angry that Trevor was with Lucien, my Lucien, in a way I haven’t been allowed to have him yet. He’s already gorgeous himself, he could have any girl . . . or guy here if he wants. Why did he have to take what was mine ?

Of course, Lucien uses this awkward as hell moment to make introductions.

“Trevor James, meet my Little Stalker Princess I was telling you about. She’s a little angry right now, but I promise she’s a really good girl, aren’t you?”

My mouth falls open and I look at Trevor in horror, unbelieving that Lucien just shared that with him, but Trevor surprisingly laughs, breaking out into a smile I wasn’t expecting.

Blinding white teeth gleam at me as he flashes those sexy goddamn dimples that make me want to swim in the divots of his face.

“Nice to meet you,” he chuckles, walking over to offer his hand for me to shake.

I shift back and forth, a little taken aback by his genuine expression. Like he’s actually pleased to have met my acquaintance.

“Umm . . . You can just call me Sydney,” I say, shaking his hand, albeit begrudgingly. “I’m not a stalker, by the way. This is just all one big misunderstanding.”

I wave my hand in front of me in hopes of erasing the embarrassment I feel. I may not be Trevor’s biggest fan right now, but that doesn’t mean I want him to think ill of me.

“It’s alright, I’m sure it’s an exaggeration on his part. Lucien’s the worst at nicknames,” Trevor admits.

That voice of his runs smooth over the sound waves of my beating heart, thick and rich like. . . caramel , or chocolate. I smile at the immediate comfort it offers, a soothing balm over my aching heart.

“Am not!” Lucien retorts, disparaging Trevor’s claims.

Trevor arches a brow at him. “You nicknamed your therapist, Dr. Thottie.”

My brows scrunch as I turn toward Lucien. His therapist?

“No, that’s what I call my psychiatrist. I call my therapist Mr. Penguin.”

I turn back to Trevor, and he shoots me a droll expression.

“You see what I mean?”

The captain gestures to Lucien and now my brows are taking flight because what the fuck?

I stand there stunned as they both gloss over the fact that Lucien has a psychiatrist and a therapist. I wonder if everyone’s right about him. Maybe he really is crazy.

“Fine, Toy?” offers Lucien, snapping me back to the moment.

“What? No,” I answer, shaking my head. I don’t mind being his toy, but I don’t want that to be my sole identifier to him.

“Stalker Princess?”

I shake my head again.

“Little Stalker Princess Toy Doll.”

“Ew, no,” I grimace.

“Just pick one,” Trevor groans, and I like him just a little more for being the voice of reason in Lucien’s fucked-up head.

“I like it when you call me Princess,” I lament. “Just . . . call me that.”

He’s leaving you for another man, stupid; he’s not calling you anything but an Uber.

Lucien’s head swivels between us before he relents.

“Fine.” But the victory is short-lived. He sits back down on the bench in front of his bed, arms spread along the edge like he was on my couch earlier tonight, cock bulging in his jeans. His grin is sinful as he parts his legs, widening them farther.

“Get on your knees, Princess, and finish what Trevor started.”