Page 24 of Never Dance with the Devils

But I try, leaning toward Kayla to stage-whisper, “He’s trying to be gentlemanly, and of the two of us, he’s definitely better at it.”

“You seem to be doing well,” she tells me, looking from my face to our entwined hands where I’m gently running my thumb along her knuckles.

Using that connection, I quickly tug her in close, her chest slamming into mine. My voice low and rough between us, I say, “If it were up to me, we’d bend you over the couch, push that pretty dress up, and fuck you before dinner to remind you how good we can be if you’d quit fighting us.” She gasps, the light in her eyes sparkling. I lower my lips to her ear. “But the chef we hired is supposed to be really good, so we should probably eat dinner first because if I get between your legs again, I’m not coming up for air, and you’ll need some fuel for what we’re gonna do to you.” I let my other hand slide down her side to take a handful of her tight ass, squeezing her firmly.

Kayla’s mouth drops open in shock. I don’t think people talk to her like that, which is exactly why I’m doing it. I like that look of surprise in her eyes, and I really enjoy seeing her mouth falling wide open. It gives me ideas about what to fill it with.

I lift her chin with the touch of my finger, closing her mouth for her. “We can wait… unless you need it now,” I offer.

Maddox steps up behind her, sandwiching her between us, and threads his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck. Pulling her head back slightly, he teases his nose along her temple and then rumbles in her ear, “What do you want, Kayla? Say it. We’ll give it to you.”

Her body goes soft for the tiniest of seconds and Ithink I know her answer. My dick certainly thinks he knows and is rock hard in my slacks, pressed against her belly, and I’d bet she can feel Maddox’s against her back.

She straightens suddenly, standing on her own and not leaning on either of us. “Dinner smells delicious, and far be it from me to disrespect the chef by delaying our meal.” She steps away, putting a foot of distance between her and us and giving us a smile that is pure devilment. She’s enjoying this, tormenting and teasing us.

And though my dick complains, I’m enjoying it too.

“Then what happened?”Maddox asks Kayla, refilling her red wine.

Our dinner was as delicious as promised, the chef has long gone, and now we’re sitting around the dining table, talking. It feels comfortable, like the magic from before was real and has carried over, something I was afraid I’d made up or that wouldn’t feel the same without the semi-anonymity.

She lifts her glass in appreciation, then goes on with her story, still laughing. “They went through with it! Can you believe that? Fake dating arrangement and all, he and Luna showed up to the Cartwright estate with a stupid, albeit cute, dog in tow. And like it always does for golden-boy Carter, it worked out.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “He privately manages Elena Cartwright’s investments now and Luna takes care of her art collection.”

Maddox chuckles. “I’d say it more than worked out.”

“So, it’s only you and Cameron at Blue Lake?” I ask,making mental notes about her family like I’m studying tapes of an upcoming playoff opponent on the way to the Cup.

So far, I’ve gathered that Carter and Luna fell in love through a fake dating scenario, Cameron and Kayla both work at Blue Lake, staying out of each other’s way while trying to best their father’s legacy, Cole is Kayla’s twin and is apparently a bit terrifying (which is laughable considering she’s also scary as hell), Chance is some sort of do-gooder, buttoned-down, Boy Scout type, and Kyle is renovating his house, adding a dog wash station and a water bubbler to further spoil his already-spoiled dog.

Kayla has been regaling us with stories about her family, who seem to be the most important people in her life, given they’re all she’s talked about. No work, no friends, no favorite sports team, just various stories of her family. They’re her whole circle, her reason for being, her everything. In some ways, I get it. Maddox and I have to be super careful about who we let into our inner circle too, especially since history has proven that to some people, we’re not much more than a ticket to a life they want. I’m sure that’s even more so the case when your last name is Harrington, like Kayla’s. There’s no ‘meeting someone random at Starbuck’s and becoming besties’ when you’re the walking, talking embodiment of rich and powerful.

Even so, she’s been very open with us, almost as though her deepest, most important need is a connection outside of her tightknit group. Or maybe just a different type of connection.

Of course, it was awkward at first, but Maddox did the heavy lifting of getting Kayla and me out of our shells and keeping the conversation going about something otherthan sex, which was difficult when Kayla kept moaning at how good everything tasted, especially the chocolate mousse dessert Maddox slipped her a taste of… from his tongue. I had said—completely seriously—that I knew something that tasted better and I’d been craving it for months. Kayla had blushed at first, but she came back strong, telling me to be a good boy and maybe I’d get a treat. It'd nearly done both Maddox and me in. So, carrying on a normal conversation is a serious win in my book.

“Yes, the lone remaining loyalists. At least according to my dad,” she says wistfully, her hand to her chest. But, very intentionally changing the subject from her father, she points from me to Maddox. “Enough about me. Tell me more about you two, like how this happened? And I don’t want the internet version.”

“You looked us up?” Maddox asks, flashing a pride-filled grin. “Did you see my stats last season? Best ever… to date.”

I shouldn’t be surprised. Hell, with the type of family she has, I wouldn’t be surprised if a full, FBI-level background check from her apparently wound-up, control-freak brother was standard MO before any dates. But I don’t think that’s what happened. I get the feeling she was the one typing our names in and reading all about us, and that feels important. Like we passed a test, and I’d be willing to bet big that Kayla’s tests are tough. As they should be.

“Maybe,” she drawls out. “But tell me everything.” She puts her elbow on the table, rests her chin in her hand, and looks ready for a detailed storytime.

This is Maddox’s arena, not mine, so I let him take the lead. “Riggs and I drafted onto the Devils,” he starts,leaning her way. “At the time, we were young and stupid, and all our hockey dreams were coming true. We were two peas in a pod back then.” He grins at me, both of us remembering that time. “We lived, slept, and breathed hockey, every minute of every day, and because we were both rookies, we became friends, on and off the ice.”

“Wait, two peas in a pod?” Kayla repeats, doubt written in the cute crinkle of her brows. “You two?”

No one would describe us that way these days, but it was true back then. Now, we’re more the Yin and Yang of polar opposites—Mr. Congeniality and Mr. Asshole, with him obviously being everyone’s favorite charmer and me being the second one in the buy one, get one free equation of us.

He gives me an encouraging look because this is my story to share… or more often, to not share, especially with strangers. I’m not sure about this, and I think it has the potential to run Kayla off again, but Maddox says there’s no way around it, only through it, so I lean back in my chair and clear my throat.

“I was married then, to my high school sweetheart. Things were good, which meant I was good, until they weren’t, so I wasn’t. When we got divorced, she did a number on me, saying all kinds of shitaboutme andtome, and took damn near every penny I’d earned on the ice to that point. It left me in a deep, dark place,” I admit solemnly. “That’s when Maddox saved me from myself. This” —I hold my arms out wide, pointing back at myself— “is what’s left of that dumbass kid. A little wiser, a lot less trusting, and pretty banged up inside.” I don’t tap my heart, but rather, my head, because that’s whatEliza really messed with—the way I think, especially about myself.

Eliza fooled everyone. Or maybe she changed as the money came in? She’d certainly seemed like the same home-town girl I’d always known when I brought her to team get-togethers in the early days. But she became a cruel, money-hungry bitch by the time we signed the divorce papers. I’m not sure what exactly happened. In hindsight, I think it was a slow morph into someone who only saw me as the person bankrolling her lifestyle, not as the man she was supposed to love the way I loved her, but she left a trail of gossip about me through the wives and girlfriends, and therefore, the team. I almost hadn’t recovered and had even contemplated giving up on hockey altogether until Maddox knocked some sense into me about that, literally with a few love-taps to my solar plexus that hit like a slap-shot.

Kayla’s gone quiet, her eyes searching my face as she processes the trauma dump I just laid at her feet, and in full support of me, Maddox holds a fist out. “I’ll take this you over that one any day, man.”

One side of my mouth quirks up the tiniest bit, not in a smile but in something closer to acknowledgement that I am different now. “Thanks, man,” I say. Touching my fist to his and then letting out a deep exhale, I conclude, “So yeah, that’s me in a nutshell. Drama, trauma, and scars, oh my.” The rewrite of the ‘lions, tigers, and bears’ phrasing makes Maddox chuckle because it’s something he’s said to me before when I needed a kick in the ass. It’s like our own private joke because sometimes, dark humor is all you have to get through the rough patches.