Page 60 of Twisted Play (Cruel Games #1)

EVA

Tristan threaded his fingers through mine, anchoring me as I pulled myself back together.

For one goddamned moment, I thought I saw something better in Cole.

I’d spent the whole game trembling with need as the vibrator roared to life with the crowd, weakening my knees and my resolve to hold these two men at a distance.

Each time they took a victory lap, every time they skated by me, I wanted them more, and I’d convinced myself their care for me today meant we could have something real.

Boy, was I fucking wrong.

I was about to crawl into the backseat of Cole’s car, where they usually stashed me, when Tristan stopped me with a gentle tug on my fingers.

“Ride up front,” he said. “Acting like our girlfriend means treating you like our girlfriend. Right, Cole?” The edge in his voice when he addressed his best friend surprised me.

Oh shit. They weren’t on the same page when it came to me .

“Right,” Cole said, his voice quiet rather than cruel. “Tristan can sit in the back.”

Tristan gamely crawled in. I pushed the seat forward as far as I could.

“Naw, kitten,” he said. “I’m going to shove my knees into Cole’s back.”

Cole stole looks at me the whole way to the bar, his eyes cutting to me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I slumped backward in the seat, tired of their stupid games, angry at myself for overplaying my hand earlier and showing them I wanted them, and still so fucking turned on, I didn’t know what to do with myself.

My fingers clenched on my thighs, and I forced them open, to lie flat, only to clench them again, anger alternating with humiliation. No matter what Cole said, no matter what he did, my body betrayed me.

I took a shuddering breath, and Cole reached over, snatching my hand and squeezing it before placing it back on my thigh, his fingers wrapped around mine, an inferno everywhere we touched.

He said nothing, driving in silence, releasing me to shift then capturing my fingers again.

Each time it surprised me, and then even more when he ran his thumb along mine, his touch firm and reassuring rather than seductive.

Tristan leaned forward and tangled his fingers in my hair, teasing them through the curls, each tug gentle rather than painful.

I hated how quickly they oscillated between cruel and sweet, as if they couldn’t decide what they wanted more—my affection or my submission. For the first time, I wondered if they felt as trapped as I did.

Me

We’re going to Pour Decisions for drinks. Meet me there?

Rory

Who’s we?

Me

The hockey team.

Rory

Massi?

Weird. What did she care whether Massi came?

Me

He invited us.

Sage

I have plans, sorry!

Rory

Meet you there.

Cole parked, and before I could open my door, he was there, opening it for me, his hand out for me to take.

What the fuck?

My confusion must have shown on my face, because he smiled ruefully.

“I might not be giving you a choice about acting like my girlfriend in public, but I sure as fuck intend to enjoy treating you like you’re mine.

” He yanked me into him, his fingers curling around my waist. He ran his nose up my neck.

“You’re so fucking hot in this jersey, you know that? ”

“She’s ours,” Tristan corrected gently. “And she’s wearing my jersey.”

“Stupid fucking puck bunnies, playing favorites,” Cole muttered, but there was no heat in his voice .

A giggle escaped me, and the relief in Cole’s eyes softened his entire face. He didn’t like making me miserable, or maybe he was happier when I wasn’t.

So why did he keep doing it?

“C’mon, sparrow,” he said, running one hand up my back and tugging me into a tight hug. “Let me buy you a drink.”

My purse buzzed. I checked my burner phone—a message from Jedediah Carter. Fuck it. Fuck him . I shoved the phone back into my bag and looked up at Cole and Tristan, whose sweet stares made me feel, just for a moment, like they really were my boyfriends.

“Both of you owe me drinks,” I said finally, determined to enjoy the evening, even if it meant forgiving Cole for being Cole.

Cole nodded tightly, biting his bottom lip, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that melted the ice in mine.

I reached up to tug his lip out from between his teeth. “That’s for me to bite,” I flirted.

His eyes widened before darkening into a lust-filled look that sent need flooding to my pussy.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

The noise of the bar set off a buzzing between my legs, and I staggered in the doorway, clutching at Tristan as my knees turned to Jell-o and pleasure coursed through me.

“You okay, kitten?”

“Your fucking sex toy is?—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Cole said, tapping my nose as amusement danced in his eyes. “Girlfriend, remember? ”

Demanding, demeaning Cole, I could deal with. Sweet Cole, degrading me and praising me so I’d take a picture of my pussy? Sure. But amused, teasing Cole, trying to drag a smile out of me?

Fuck.

I whimpered, the roar of the crowd and the pounding of music intensifying the pleasure in my core. “I can’t?—”

“You can,” he murmured, but he reached into his pocket, and the intensity diminished.

“Thank you,” I gasped.

“I love the sound of gratitude on your lips.” He brushed his lips over the curve of my ear. “What do you want to drink?”

“Gin and tonic,” I said.

Tristan tugged me to the back of the bar where the team celebrated their win, weaving in and out of players until he reached a corner booth with a round table. Massi and Haruto both sat there, along with three stunning women I recognized from my time at the arena. Puck bunnies.

“Make some space,” Tristan grunted. They scooted in, leaving just enough room for him. One of the women draped over Haruto eyed Tristan. She moved over a little bit, though not enough for more than one of us to sit.

Haruto’s gaze darted between Tristan and me, and he jerked his head at the woman. “Up, McKayla,” he said.

“But—”

“Now,” he snapped.

Pouting, she slid out of the booth and glared at me, as if it were my decision. Tristan slid in and settled me on the end beside him, his arm wrapped around my shoulders.

“Good game,” Massi said.

Tristan grinned. “Great way to start out the season. ”

A moment later, Cole appeared with a beer bottle and two cocktails. He scowled when he realized there was no room at the table for him.

Tristan hauled me into his lap, settling me on his right thigh, my back to Haruto beside him, my legs dangling between his so Cole could slide into my abandoned spot.

Cole growled his displeasure, and Tristan swung my legs up over his, so my boot-clad feet rested in Cole’s lap.

I lost my balance and grabbed at Tristan’s neck to hold myself steady.

My cheeks heated when Cole wrapped one hand around my ankles, holding me in place. With Tristan’s arm on my back and my arm around his shoulders, we couldn’t hide the intimacy of our position. Cole handed me my drink and Tristan, his beer.

“To winning,” he said, raising his glass in a toast.

“Fuck yeah,” Tristan agreed. We all clinked our drinks together over the table.

“I can’t believe you actually came out,” Haruto said, shaking his head and grinning at Cole. “She’s good for you.”

Cole’s fingers tightened around my ankles, the muscles of his legs tensing under my calves, but he didn’t say anything.

“You don’t party with the team?” I asked him, curious.

“He’s too good for us this year,” Massi sneered.

“Hey,” I snapped. “You invited him. Be nice.”

Cole’s fingers loosened their grip, his thumb making long, slow sweeps over the side of my calf, the motion utterly distracting.

Tristan leaned forward to nuzzle my neck, but I kept my gaze on Massi, who frowned and then nodded, raising his beer to Cole. “Two goals today—that was good work.” He looked at Tristan. “And one from you.”

“It was a fuckin’ blowout,” Haruto added. “Shame they got that one in at the last minute—it’d have been a shut out otherwise.”

I relaxed into Tristan’s arms. “Such a good fucking girlfriend, standing up for him,” he murmured into my ear as the men talked hockey.

“Why didn’t you?” I murmured back.

“He’d never forgive me for saying something—it’d make him feel weak. He doesn’t party with the team after games because he doesn’t drink anymore. That’s sparkling water in his glass.”

I didn’t like myself for hating seeing Cole cut down to size. I didn’t like the instinct to comfort him. And I especially didn’t like that Tristan noticed. But the fact that Cole would let me defend him when he wouldn’t let anyone else? What the fuck was this weird pressure in my chest?

My phone buzzed, and I continued to ignore it. A minute later, Rory waltzed up to our table.

“Eva!”

I tried to climb out of Tristan’s lap to give her a hug, but his arms tightened around me.

Massi stood, towering over her. “What are you doing here?” he asked her, his voice low.

“None of your fucking business,” she snapped.

“Everything you do is my fucking business,” he snarled.

What the fuck was going on here? Rory jerked away from him. “I came to see Eva,” she said, her voice soft and pleading, nothing like I expected.

“Let’s dance,” I said decisively, shoving my way off my men’s laps before they could stop me. I grabbed Rory’s hand and dragged her to the crowded dance floor.

“You okay?”

She grinned. “Am now! You look like you’re doing better than okay! ”

The vibrator inside me surged to life, and I stumbled, holding back a whine. “Fuck,” I gasped.

Rory’s brows furrowed in puzzlement.

“I’m wearing—there’s a—” The music’s volume increased, and so did the sensations on my core. “They fucking put a vibrator inside of me!”

Rory burst out into laughter. “Oh, you poor thing,” she teased me. “The attention of two big, strong hockey players too much for you?”

She knew about the sex. She didn’t know about the deal.

It didn’t take long for Cole to join us on the dance floor, along with Massi.

Cole pulled me away from Rory and against him, my back to his torso as we swayed to the pounding beat.

I threw my head back over Cole’s shoulder as his hips dug into mine, his erection pressing into my back.

“Cole,” I whimpered, heedless of our audience. “Please.”

“Please what, sparrow?” His breath was hot on my ear, sending gooseflesh down my spine.

“I need to come,” I gasped.

“Want me to shove my hand into your leggings in the middle of the bar? Finger your clit until you’re screaming with pleasure?”

“No, fuck, please,” I gasped, the eroticism of his words only fanning the flames of my arousal.

Tristan joined us. He slid his fingers up my hips and under my jersey—his jersey—to settle his hands on the bare skin of my back.

My eyes caught on Rory wrapped in Massi’s arms, having a fierce argument. He bent down to kiss her, but Tristan distracted me with a kiss of his own.

“You’re so fucking hot in my jersey. All I’ve been thinking about since we left the game is you riding me, wearing nothing else.”

Cole nipped at my neck, scraping his teeth over my skin, and I moaned.

“I want that too,” I whispered into Tristan’s chest. “Let’s go.”