Page 18 of The Penalty Player (The Hockey USA Romance Collection #7)

I knead her muscular but soft ass, enjoying the friction as she pulls me into her.

Control isn’t at the top of my wheelhouse and when it comes to Becca Shearer, I have none.

Hungry to taste her again, our mouths slam together in a bruising kiss.

Our tongues fight for more. I push her against the wall, my sight slowly returning.

Sliding one finger through her folds, she pants over and over again, “Yes.”

My mouth drops to her shoulder, biting it. I finger fuck her until she comes all over my hand. I pull my hand out slowly, and the sound of sloshing fills the small room. “Lick it off.”

She cleans one finger at a time, then I dive in for a second round, hoping she’ll get on her knees.

After the residue is gone from my hands, I cup her face, covering her mouth with mine.

The taste of her arousal lingers on my tongue and damn, I wish I had hoisted her up and ate her for dessert instead of the cheesecake.

The door rattles and before we can break apart, her brother says, “What the fuck is this?”

I rub the scruff on my jaw as Becca straightens her dress.

“We’re just searching for clues.”

“In my sister’s mouth?”

“It’s a game, Corbin. Don’t get your panties in a wad. A one-off. Right, Becca?”

“My clue was to taste the chef’s secret ingredient.”

“Why?”

The host calls over the sound system for us to come back into the dining room, which temporarily stops the inquisition. When we file back into the room from all directions, Emmaline is standing beside him with her hands folded in front of her.

“According to our camera crew, we think someone solved the mystery. Each one of you tell me who you think murdered Emmaline.”

I say, “Julic.”

Julic thinks it’s Becca.

When it’s Becca’s turn, she says, “John Basilio did it.”

Austin and Bryce shake their heads. They believe it was Corbin.

“Why do you think it was John?” the host asks.

Becca smiles. “Well, I knew that Emmaline owed a lot of people money. I was aware that she owed both Corbin and John money. Then I saw John being handed a vial. My clue said to taste the secret ingredient. When I opened Emmaline’s mouth to give her fake CPR, I tasted ginger on her lips.

Nothing we had for dinner had ginger in it.

So, I pretended to be attracted to John so I could kiss him.

When I did, I tasted ginger. It’s a distinct flavor. ”

Pretended. Damn, she’s a good liar. I need to make a mental note of that because there’s no way on God’s tropical island that she was faking that kiss.

“Oh, you’re close, but it wasn’t John.”

Her eyes widen, thinking she won. None of us like to lose. “It has to be.”

“Things aren’t always as they appear, Becca. Let’s see, Oakley, who do you think the murderer is?”

Oakley squeals in delight as she pushes her long, blond hair behind her ears. “It’s Corbin.”

I attempt to hold in my smile.

“The fabric from her dress indicated there was a struggle, and John’s so-called handkerchief wasn’t in his pocket when he first arrived.

So, at first, I thought it was him, but then I found those same fibers of Emmaline’s dress on Corbin.

Before dinner, I noticed Corbin writing something at the credenza.

Then after dinner, we went to get dessert.

That’s when I saw Emmaline by the pool, and Corbin was lurking behind the palms as she read a letter.

Then she crumpled it up and threw it. When I looked back at him, he was gone.

Everyone went back to the dining room, and we realized Emmaline was gone.

I knew from the look on Corbin’s face he was up to no good. ”

She laughs. “I’ve seen that face. So, when we went looking for her, and she was in the pool, John seemed surprised.

Bryce read the letter, then passed it around to all of us.

I snuck away and went back to the antique credenza.

Sure enough, the letter Emmaline received was from the same pad of paper.

” She pulls it from her purse. “Now, all I had to do was find the murder weapon.” She sinks her hand into her purse, revealing a vial.

“John’s secret ingredient—a concoction that causes asphyxia with ginger to mask the chemical flavor.

I saw a little bulge in Corbin’s pocket—too little to be his…

” She cackles. “Anyway, I distracted Corbin by kissing him and lifted it from his pocket. When John wouldn’t kill her, Corbin did it himself. ”

The room echoes in gasps and playful accusations, throwing their hands up in disbelief.

“Bravo, Oakley. Bravo.”

As the guilty party, Corbin takes a dramatic bow. He receives plenty of backslaps and cheers, then our focus turns to Oakley. Our clever detective who has pieced the clues together.

Becca slings her arms around Oakley. They’re both beautiful with blond hair and blue eyes, but Oakley towers over Becca. “You’re amazing. I thought I had it.”

“You’re book smart. I, on the other hand, am street smart,” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

Corbin throws his arm over her shoulder, kissing her forehead. “She’s a survivor. Maybe she has a new career—homicide detective.”

Becca nods in agreement.

We gather for the Fatal Waves Whodunnit photo with Oakley at the center. Austin sneaks in between Becca and me, and I notice his hand tightly around her waist. Luckily, I’m able to depress the growl trying to force its way out.

The triumphant, yet conspiratorial mood continues to buzz as we head to meet the others at the Pier Pressure bar.

In Texas, we would call it a honkey tonk.

It’s loud, casual, and a country crooner sings songs about love.

Oakley is the center of attention as they pepper her with questions about how she unraveled the mystery.

While they relive their roles and joke about their favorite clues, Corbin tips his head at me.

I stride across the actual bar. He thumps his fingers against the shellacked wood. “That was quite the evidence gathering by my sister.”

“Two beers, please,” I say, feeling Corbin’s glare burning a hole in my head until the laid-back bartender removes the bottle caps and slides them down the bar.

He doesn’t bother with small talk and asks, “Do you have anything to say? ”

I catch the beers and hand him one. “Nope.”

Oakley glances at him and steals his focus momentarily, then his smile fades, and his jaw tightens. “Basilio, you’re one of my best friends, and I… I appreciate that you were there to comfort Becca when Mamaw died and talked to her about her divorce…”

“But—” I look him in the eye, cutting him off.

He takes a long pull from the beer, then moves it to his other hand. “But I don’t want to see you get hurt. You don’t want to be the rebound guy.”

I let out a short, vociferous laugh. “Me. I thought you would be worried about her.”

The tension climbs as Corbin rests his elbow against the bar, lowering his voice.

“She’s my priority but I love you like a brother, and she may need to free her spirit on this vacation, but I know my sister—she’ll overanalyze everything once she gets home.

And you brought your girlfriend here, just a few days ago. ”

A pang of resentment slices through my chest. I stare at the weathered grain of the wooden bar, hoping to find the right words to ease his mind. And mine.

“Come on, Corbin. You know I’ve never loved Stella.

My dad shoved her in my face over and over again.

When Becca broke all communication, I needed to bury myself and Stella showed up at my door.

I thought Becca and I had a chance, but she cut me off with ease.

I brought Stella to the island because I couldn’t handle watching Becca dance or flirt with other guys.

Stella was supposed to be a distraction,” I say, shoving one hand deep into my pocket.

“At the expense of my sister?”

“Whatever, man. If you don’t know me better than that after a decade of friendship, then maybe I should go home.” I slam the beer, gulping the rest of golden liquid down my throat and bang the empty bottle against the wood. My chest inflates, and we’re nose to nose. “I’m out of here. ”

I feel the Darth Vader death stare on my back as I brush past Becca. “Where... are you going?”

“Home.”

What started out as a glorious day of relaxation wrapped in intimacy, ends in an argument with my best friend. I haven’t had many friends as close as Corbin and me. I guess this is why it stings that he expects me to fuck up.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve screwed up on countless occasions, but I’ve never broken a single heart. His sister is the one who crushed me in college. Broke all communication with me earlier this summer. And I’m the bad guy for bringing my girlfriend.

Outside, heat blankets my body on the walk back to the shuttle. I hear footfalls slapping against the ground. Becca’s voice stops me in my tracks. “John, wait.”