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Bex rolls her eyes. “I haven’t worn makeup since my dad made me wipe it off my face in my sophomore year of high school. Anyway, who cares if I busted my lip open? I wear it like a badge of honor. I wasn’t about to let Stacey Weaver get to the net.”

“Instead, you guarded her so hard she ended up dropping bows on you like you’re in the UFC.”

Laughter shakes through her. “Drop bows? You sound like a lunatic.”

“What? Haven’t you ever seen a spinning back elbow? It’s sweet. That’s basically what Stacy did to your face.”

My older brother, Shaun, loves the UFC. So do I.

We learned everything from my dad, a retired United States Marine Corps Colonel.

We moved to a new duty station every few years until I was in high school.

Over the years, my dad trained Shaun and me in mixed martial arts and other defensive techniques.

“I hustled my ass off to become a starter this year,” Bex says. “I wasn’t about to punk out, allow her to make the easy layup, and show Coach Vaughn I wasn’t starting material.”

Bex is always so serious. God forbid anyone on our team who gets a leg up on her. For someone who has no plans to attempt a pro career, she takes winning way too seriously. We both love the game, but it’s just a game.

“It was just a scrimmage,” I tell her. “You can ease up. What if Preston tries to kiss you on Saturday, and he tastes blood? That’s not sexy.”

She shrugs, unaffected. “He’s a hockey player. I’m sure he’s used to the taste of blood in his mouth. And it’s not like I will kiss him.”

We stop in front of the outer edge of the ice, and our conversation comes to a halt.

Once I get a load of the men on the ice before me, my eyes are as wide as my mouth that has fallen open.

Bex looks equally taken back by the players.

They’re so graceful on skates that they make basketball players look like idiots falling over their feet.

Her eyes travel to Preston, who skates past us.

He didn’t seem to notice either of us, and that’s probably for the best, considering the look on Bex’s face.

She’s watched the team play dozens of times, but that was before she stumbled into a very shirtless Preston Parker in the locker room.

Now, her perspective on the game and Preston is different. I can see it written all over her face.

From what I can tell, they’re having a scrimmage.

One team wears navy jerseys, the other red.

A quick squabble ensues where two players fight for possession of the puck.

Drake Donovan is the goalie. I probably know every detail of his dick better than him.

Most of the girls on campus have seen it at least once.

And now, I can’t stop thinking about him or his junk as I watch him defend the net.

He moves so fast, dressed in all that padding and gear.

A wall of a man, Drake hulks over every player on the ice.

He must be close to seven feet tall, muscles bulging from every place imaginable.

Even under his uniform, I can see how well he fills out every speck of fabric attached to his toned body.

From the first time I saw him on campus, my mouth was salivating, begging for a taste.

Until I found out he’s a total manwhore.

He’s so ridiculously good-looking, with short, dark hair that brushes his forehead, blue eyes that pop against his tanned skin, and tattoos that cover his forearms like artwork carefully designed for his perfect body.

I try not to glance in his direction, but he makes it hard not to sneak a peek.

A blur of colored jerseys skates past us before someone takes a shot on the goal that hits the post and bounces to the left of the net. Drake attempts to capture it with his stick, but a red jersey player is faster.

I’m still staring at Drake when Bex presses her hand to the Plexiglas, stumbling over her sneakers.

“We better get out of here before we slobber on ourselves and trip in a puddle of our drool.

She makes a beeline for her dad, who’s talking to a player in the box. As we pass, a few of the players glance in our direction. One waves to us, though I can’t see his face. Bex returns his gesture. I stand there, stunned, like some idiot drunk on hot men.

Coach Bryant pushes open the door that leads to the ice, and Bex hands him the wallet.

Smiling, he takes it from her. “Thanks, honey. You’re a real lifesaver.” His gaze falls from Bex to me. “Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been, Taylor?”

I roll my shoulders. “I’ve been around. Busy with school and basketball.”

“Still working on your jump shot?”

I bob my head. “Yep. I got it down pat now.”

He winks at me and then turns to Bex, his gaze intense as he sees her busted lip. “How was practice? You have a nice shiner forming on your cheek and lip. What happened? You look like you went a few rounds with Hopkins.”

I love his reference to Bernard Hopkins, a legendary boxer from Philly. My dad was on the All-Marine Boxing Team back in his day, so I don’t fight like a girl.

Bex laughs at his joke. “Practice was fine. It could have been better. But at least I’ll have a cool battle scar.”

He inspects her face, shaking his head. “I wish you’d be more careful. You can be so rough.”

“Basketball is a rough sport,” she counters. “I’m not some delicate flower, Dad. I can take a punch, or in this case, an elbow.”

Ain’t that the truth?

He sighs. “You were never delicate, that’s for sure. Are you staying until practice is over?”

She shrugs. “I guess we can hang around a little while longer. Not like we have anything better to do.”

Speak for yourself, Bex.

“That’s the spirit.” He slaps Bex on the back like she’s one of his players. “I could use another set of eyes on the team. This game will be tough for us.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Me neither,” I add.

He angles his body toward the ice, biting his cheek as if nervous about his first game as the head coach.

Bex seems to note the quick change in her dad’s behavior and taps him on the shoulder. “Everything will work out. I have a good feeling about the game.”

He grins. “Me, too.”

Like me, Bex is tall. She’s maybe three inches shorter than her dad, and their eyes are nearly level. I assume she inherited her blonde hair and blue eyes from her mom, but she has his height and athleticism.

We’re both five feet ten inches. Our height makes dating much harder. A lot of guys look at us as if we’re less feminine because of our size.

Coach Bryant blows the whistle around his neck, raising his hand to signal the players to approach the bench.

“I have to get going, honey,” he says to Bex.

“Take a seat over there.” He points to the first row of seats in front of the glass.

“I’ll meet you there after we’re done. Maybe we can get dinner. Taylor, you can come, too.”

Good, no cafeteria food.

I smile in response.

“Yeah, that sounds good, Dad,” Bex says, then he goes back to coaching his team.

She tugs on my arm, steering me toward our seats.

After we sit, I glance over at the bench, not the least surprised to see Preston staring hard at Bex.

Like he wants to eat her. Claim her. Do something dirty to her.

Holy hell, his eyes are so intense, my body trembles.

Drake looked at me the same way earlier this week in the cafeteria.

“You have an admirer,” I inform her.

She turns her head, and he winks once he has her attention.

Bex doesn’t return his gesture or even acknowledge him.

Weird. Despite her defensive demeanor, she seemed excited about her date with him.

I would have thought she would at least wave to him.

Typical Bex. She’s always so closed off that she pushes everyone away except me.

“The way he’s looking at you is giving me chills,” I say to break the silence. “What I wouldn’t give to have someone look at me like that.”

Still burning a hole through her with his eyes, Preston removes his helmet, his sweaty hair sticking up in different directions. His dark, messy hair and the sexy look on his face catches Bex’s attention. She stares at him, her mouth agape.

He affects her whether she wants to admit the truth. I know my friend well enough to see she will fold like a cheap chair if Preston as much as brushes his fingers along her skin.

Once practice ends, Coach Bryant orders his team to hit the showers.

Bex is busy lusting over Preston, and Drake Donovan still enamors me.

As Drake walks off the ice and heads toward the locker room, I get a better look at him.

His eyes meet mine for a second, and a ripple of pleasure shoots through my body.

Dammit.

I wish I didn’t want him.

But damn him for being so sexy that I can’t form a single thought when he looks at me. I’m not the girl who falls head over heels for a guy. So, why do I care that Drake can’t stop looking at me like I’m his dinner?

Speaking of food…

“Where do you want to eat?” I rub my stomach. “I worked up an appetite watching these hockey hotties.”

“I bet that’s not the only appetite you worked up,” she deadpans. “Don’t think I missed you obsessively watching Drake. I don’t blame you. I was doing the same to Preston.”

Holy shit, Preston is behind Bex. I didn’t even hear him approach until he was on her heels.

I clear my throat and tilt my head toward Preston. When she spins around, her eyes bug out.

Busted.

A wicked smirk turns up the right side of Preston’s mouth. “Funny meeting you here.”

Speechless, Bex opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. This is a first. Even I’m stunned by his sudden appearance. He must have overheard our conversation. So, now he knows I like Drake, even though I don’t want to like him. Ugh, how awkward?

“Did you watch me play?”

Bex nods. “Uh-huh. My dad asked me to stay behind.”

“Parker, stop bothering my daughter,” Coach Bryant yells. “Time to hit the showers.” He claps his hands. “Let’s go.”

Bex lets out a sigh of relief. “Saved by the bell.”

“For now.” Preston wiggles his eyebrows in this adorable way that makes him even sexier. “Wait for me. Right here.”

Bex makes a strange face. She hates being told what to do. “And why would I do that?”

“Do you know how to skate?”

She snorts. “My dad is a hockey coach. I grew up at a rink. Are you serious?”

He shrugs, unaffected by Bex’s comments. “Hey, you never know. You could be good on your feet and horrible on skates. My older brother can’t skate to save his life, even with my dad teaching him.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Really?”

“It’s true,” Preston confesses. “JP never took to hockey, at least not how I did, and he hates the cold.”

She laughs. “That’s interesting. I would have thought hockey was a requirement in your family.”

“He’s the brains?—”

“And you’re the beauty,” she finishes for him, laughing.

My cheeks flush for her as if this is all happening to me. Oh my God, Bex has just admitted she thinks he’s hot. She’s so into him it’s insane. And Preston doesn’t miss a beat. He knows exactly how she feels about him.

“No, that wasn’t what I would say,” Preston offers. “But... thanks, I guess.”

She bites her cut lip, most likely forgetting about the pain with Mr. MVP standing before her. I’ve never seen Bex so out of sorts before.

Preston does something neither of us expects, removing the glove from his hand to touch her cheek. He slides his thumb over her lip. “How did this happen?”

His movements are so sensual that I feel like I’m sharing a private moment between them.

Should I leave?

“I took one for the team,” she says.

“Bex likes it rough,” I add to take the edge off this moment. I’m always good for an inappropriate joke when necessary. That’s how I handle awkward moments. Comedy is my go-to when things get weird.

Preston laughs.

An awkward pause passes before Bex says, “You stink, Parker. Go take a shower.”

“What about your dad?” I point out.

“We’re supposed to have dinner with my dad. I can’t. But I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Can I call you?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t enjoy talking on the phone.”

While that’s true, what the hell is she doing?

He cocks an eyebrow at her. “Texts, then?”

Bex shrugs. “Um…” She looks to me for confirmation.

Is she hoping I will give her a way out of talking to him? Hell, no. Bitch, you’re going on that date. She’s giving him her number. I know Bex likes Preston and tries to dodge him because of her intimacy issues.

“Yeah,” I say. “Text her later.”

Bex doesn’t look thrilled with me, while Preston is happy as a pig in shit.

He extends his hand to me. “We haven’t met. I’m Preston Parker. And you are?”

Oh, please. You know my name, Parker.

“Taylor Bradshaw.” I clear my throat and stand up straight. “Bex’s roommate.”

“You forgot teammate,” Bex says. “Taylor’s also my best friend.”

That I am, and what are friends for?

“Nice to meet you, Taylor.” He shoves the glove onto his hand. “Nice seeing you, Bex. I’ll text you later, okay?”

She nods.

After Preston leaves, she pushes her hip into mine. “Thanks, Tay. What the hell was that about? I can’t believe you sided with Preston.”

“I didn’t side with anyone. I was saving you from making a horrible mistake. You like Preston. Stop denying it.”

“He’s my dad’s favorite player.”

“That’s not the issue, and you know it. Preston isn’t Kellan. Give him a chance. You might be happy you did.”

“I guess you’re right.” She smiles, a real one this time. “But if I give Preston a chance, you have to be nicer to Drake. He’s one of Preston’s best friends. They’re like brothers.”

I grunt in frustration. “Fine. I’ll be friendly to the giant with a monster cock.”

She chuckles, shaking her head.

I helped Bex with her dating life, and now, I should take charge of my own. But that would require me to step outside of my comfort zone, which I’m not ready to do just yet.

Not with Drake Donovan.