Page 32 of In the Net (Sin Bin Stories #5)

SEBASTIAN

C arter’s open. With one defender between me and the goal, and Carter having a clean shot on it, passing to him is a no-brainer.

But we’re in the third period, and I’ve only scored one goal.

I need to score three.

I’m a veteran. I should be a team player. I should be unselfish. Every play I make on the ice should be about my team, not about me.

But my cock hasn’t been able to stop twitching every time I think about Harper doing the worm for me. Seeing her body undulate against the floor.

I know it’ll be hot as fuck, but it’s not just the fact that I’m getting way too turned on by my fake girlfriend that makes me want to see it.

I like the idea of her feeling comfortable enough to act goofy with me. Her sending me something silly we can both laugh about.

I don’t know why I like that idea so much. That’s the kind of thing real couples do. We’re not a real couple. We’re not going to be.

But I only have a fraction of a second to make this decision. Not enough time to plumb the depths of my subconscious.

I’m keeping the puck.

I fake a pass to Carter. Since passing the puck makes all the sense in the world, Dartmouth’s goalie bites and angles his body toward Carter, anticipating the shot coming from him.

I’m hoping that the defender in front of me will do the same. Hoping that he’ll scramble in Carter’s direction, so that my deke to his other side will succeed.

Nope. Doesn’t happen.

The defender covering me reads my fake, and I can’t get around him.

I’ve wasted enough time that Dartmouth players are swarming onto their side of the ice. We’ve missed a perfect chance for a goal, because of me.

I curse myself. I should be better than this.

I shouldn’t be thinking about anything else while I’m on the ice other than what I need to do to win this game.

To make sure my final season as a Black Bear is a success.

To make sure the younger players inherit a team that still has momentum when I graduate at the end of this year.

I shouldn’t be thinking of how badly I want my fake girlfriend to send me a video of a stupid dance.

But that’s exactly what I’m thinking of just minutes later.

One of Dartmouth’s rookies is handling the puck, and he looks sloppy. I spot it and pump my legs, slicing across the ice and closing the distance between us. I manage to snag the puck from him and stab in a wraparound goal past their goalie.

The Dartmouth crowd groans. My second goal of the day.

I can’t let myself savor the feeling, though. With only four minutes left in the game, I need one more score.

After my goal, we’re up 4-1. There’s a euphoric feeling spreading among my teammates. Dartmouth is a good team, and we’ve dominated them tonight. It feels like a true return to form after a rocky start.

I can sense the rest of the guys shifting down a gear. Settling into playing defense and bleeding the rest of the clock instead of going all out to score more goals. We don’t need to. Barring an outright miracle for Dartmouth, we’ve got this one wrapped up.

In a last-ditch effort to create that miracle, Dartmouth go slack on defense, putting everything into assaulting our side of the ice in hopes of scoring an improbable number of last-minute goals.

It’s the perfect opportunity for me to signal for a pass from Jamie, blitz down the ice, and fire off a breakaway shot.

It flies past their goalie, and lands right in the net.

The guys are ecstatic in the locker room. It’s a party atmosphere after what everyone feels is a statement victory.

While everyone else is celebrating, chest-bumping, back-slapping, laughing, talking about the best plays of the game, I just go straight to my locker and check my phone.

There’s already a message waiting for me from Harper. A warm feeling expands in my chest. If anyone glimpses the stupidly big smile on my face, at least I can lie and say it’s because I’m happy about my hat trick.

Harper (ugh)

CONGRATULATIONS!!! What an amazing game!!

She follows that with another message stuffed full of emojis. Cakes, graffiti, the little guy with the hat blowing a party horn. The works.

I know exactly what she’s doing, though. Hoping that her over-the-top praise is going to make me forget about what she owes me.

Not likely.

Save the flattery. You know what I want to see.

I’m waiting impatiently for Harper to make good on sending me a video of what she promised, when my feet suddenly lift off the floor.

“Sebastian, you hat-tricking son of a bitch!” Felix shouts, his arms wrapped around my waist to lift me and spin me around. “Why the hell are you hiding in your locker?”

“Just texting someone,” I say, trying to sound casual, when he sets me down.

“Harper.” Veikko states it like he’s certain.

I cast him a wary glance. “What makes you say that?”

He shrugs, and then the no-nonsense Finn says in a flat inflection like he’s giving his lunch order, “Because you like her now. It is obvious.”

My chest twists. The rest of the guys are eyeing me, tittering at Veikko’s words.

“That’s ridiculous,” I protest, the words feeling weaker than tea steeped for ten seconds in lukewarm water.

Veikko’s brow furrows. He looks like he’s about to say something else, when Carter clasps him on the shoulder. “He’s just not ready to face it yet, man.”

I point a cutting scowl at Carter as Veikko shakes his head. “Americans,” he mumbles to himself, like that explains everything.

The guys leave me alone, so I check my phone again.

Harper’s sent a video.

Excitement rushes through me. I quickly open it and press play.

Harper’s in her room, sitting on the floor. The phone must be propped up against the wall, or maybe one of the legs of her desk.

She looks so embarrassed, a pretty pink tone warming her cheeks. The edges of her pert mouth keep ticking like she’s fighting back a bashful smile.

“Okay, it’s been a while since I’ve done this,” she explains. “But I guess a deal’s a deal.”

I grin. Damn right it is.

She crawls back on her rug so she’s in full view of the camera. She’s wearing a yellow t-shirt and blue shorts that reveal her long, smooth legs. My cock jumps at how soft and delicious her thighs look.

She stands up, at profile with the camera. “Alright, here it goes.”

My mouth pops into a circle as she actually does it.

Her body is like a wave. She only has enough space in her room to do two worm motions, but I’m mesmerized the entire time. And more than a little turned on.

Harper’s cheeks are splotched with crimson when she picks up her phone.

“Show anyone this video and I’ll kill you,” is the last thing she says before it ends.

She doesn’t have to worry. No one gets to see my fake girlfriend’s body moving like that but me.