Cocky Score (The Hawkeyes Hockey Series)

“Feel like explaining what happened back there?” I ask as I push through the master bedroom door and close it behind me.

Even with an ice pack to his face, he still looks beyond sexy and cool with his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, leaning up against the large, upholstered headboard, his phone in one hand as he seems to be reading something. Probably reading up on how well the team he’s up against next week played or something a sports newscaster said about his team’s chances of making it to the playoffs this year.

His blue glance up from his phone and settle on me. “Explaining what?”

I head for the bathroom in search of my anti-aging eye night cream. It works wonders for puffiness. I grab the small blue glass jar sitting by the sink and head back out of the bathroom.

“The fact that you told my brother that you’d fight him for me when we both know that his friendship means more to you than a relationship with any woman, especially me.”

I raise an eyebrow at him as I walk around to the side of the bed that he chose to sit on. The side that already has my glasses, phone charger and small fan to lull me to sleep, next to it on the nightstand. I sigh, one pain-in-the-ass problem at a time. The fight over who sleeps where will have to wait its turn.

He doesn’t respond. He just watches me as I come closer, dropping his phone on his lap and eyeing the product I have in my hand.

“I don’t know why you had to go that far to prove to him we are together,” I say, reaching over him and slowly grabbing for the ice pack. I can feel his eyes on me as I bend over him to try to pull the ice pack from his face, but the bed is too tall, and it’s an awkward position. I place my knee on the bed to give myself a boost to get closer. “Can I see it?” I ask, referring to the bruise on the left side of his face that I can’t reach.

“What’s that?” he asks, pulling the ice pack from his face and dropping it on the bed. He looks down at the blue container with miracle powers mixed into every drop.

“It’s a secret…”

“And you want me to trust you to put that shit on my face?”

“It’s not shit… and what could it hurt?”

“My manhood… my dignity… my—”

“Okay, I get it.” I shake my head, “But I swear on Wayne Gretzky and the mighty hockey powers that be that I won’t tell a single soul that you wore eye cream tonight, and you can wipe it off in the morning. It’ll just help with the puffiness.”

He makes a grumbling noise and moves away from me when I reach for his eye again.

“Briggs, stop being such a baby. Your manhood is safe with me.”

Briggs looks down toward his dick and then gives me a goofy grin.

“Not that manhood.” I tilt my head in annoyance that he had to take it there. He chuckles and finally nods.

“Good boy,” I tell him.

He gives a sexy grin.

I lean in again, but it’s an awkward position, and I won’t be able to rub the gel on very well. Before I can think of a better angle, Briggs turns his torso as both of his hands grip my hips and lifts me up. I yelp in surprise, one of my hands pressing against his chest to keep me from losing my balance. He directs my body to straddle his, and now I’m sitting on top of his lap. I don’t dare look down to see how close I am to sitting over his cock.

With only a pair of his black athletic sweats that he’s still wearing from after practice and the thin pajama pants I put on earlier this evening, there wouldn’t be much stopping me from feeling any movement if he got excited while I sat on his lap. Not unlike last night when he pulled me onto his lap during my brother’s fight. I did my best not to draw attention to the fact that I could feel him hardening slowly under me last night in Lake’s penthouse.

No matter what happened last night at the party… or didn’t happen, Briggs is still off limits, and I know it.

I take a steady breath, and he hears it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” I nod and try to get back to the task at hand.

I look at the bruising, “The ice pack’s done a good job. It looks better.”

“I wouldn’t have used an ice pack if it had been a fight on the ice, but since I’ve been trying to clean up my image, and I didn’t get in a fight yesterday, I didn’t want people to think my tiny pint-sized girlfriend got the upper hand in a lovers quarrel.”

I just about headbutt him as I burst into laughter at the idea that I could do any damage to him. He grips my hips tighter again to keep me from falling forward, and somehow, I end up further up his lap.

“Oh, dear God, no. Could you imagine the man card you’d have to hand over for that?” I ask.

“No amount of anti-puff cream could help me then.”

We both chuckle as I twist open the bottle.

“Do you remember the time that Isaac tried to steal my mom’s waterproof mascara because you two wanted to paint black marks over your cheekbones before your first hockey practice to make you look meaner?”

“But it turned out to be her fuchsia waterproof lipstick instead?” He says dryly. “Yeah… I remember.”

Something about his lackluster reaction to the memory just gets me. I was probably five years old when my dad brought the boys home after practice. They looked pained over the scarring experience of being razzed by the other kid players. My dad still made them play. He said it was character-building. I guess so because these boys are tougher than nails now.

But the image of my older brother and his best friend coming home with pink cheeks is still tattooed on my memory to this day.

“I’m not sure that was the best memory to bring up before you add more chick shit to my face.” he raises an eyebrow at me.

“I’m sorry. I just remembered that.” I say, biting back a little giggle.

I can feel his eyes on me as I open the bottle and take a small swipe of the clear cooling gel onto my index finger, trying to get my giggles under control.

“You know what I just remembered?” he asks.

“What?”

“You have a great laugh.”

“I do?”

When I look back up, Briggs is still sporting a small smile, and his eyes quickly glance down at my mouth and then back up. “Yeah,” he says softly.

A little twinge of goosebumps rolls down my arms at the thought of him wanting to kiss me, but that’s crazy, right? I just brought up the exact reason why not. I’m not a hot puck bunny, twisting my long blonde hair at the bar with my tits hiked up to the sky. I’m just the best friend’s little sister with embarrassing memories at the ready, wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a Nike zip-up hoodie, with my shoulder-length brown hair braided behind me. I look as casual as can be. Not in the least bit dressed to impress.

I reach out, and I rub the gel slowly into his perfectly tanned skin. Up this close, I can see the small little sprinkling of dark freckles against his olive skin. I almost forgot about those. In the summers, even with all the overcast weather of Washington, the beautiful Italian skin that Briggs’s mom gave him would somehow absorb the tiniest amount of UV rays, and his skin would bronze while the rest of us stayed stark white. His freckles somehow contrasted with the deepening color, and I would stare at those freckles whenever Briggs didn’t notice me. I always dreamed that someday he’d give me the freedom to map every freckle and smooth my finger over each sweet speckle. This is the closest I’ve ever been, and the desperate little girl in me from years past is begging me not to let this moment go to waste.

I lay my thumb softly against the mostly straight bridge of his nose and sweep my thumb across his cheekbone, using the gel as an excuse for my touch.

He watches every expression I make as I try to laminate every freckle to memory, knowing this might be the last time I have an unobstructed view of them.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a whisper, his fingers slowly tightening around my hips.

“Putting cooling gel—”

“No, you’re not,” he whispers again.

I desert my quest to find any two freckles the same and settle my sights on his crystal blue eyes that look like crushed ice up this close.

“I forgot how jealous I used to be of your freckles.”

“You noticed my freckles? I don’t think anyone else realizes I have them.” A soft lopsided smile stretches on one side of his ruggedly beautiful face. “Even I forget most of the time.”

I swallow hard. Now isn’t the time to catch on, Briggs.

“What else did you notice?” he asks quietly.

Everything.

“Nothing. Just the freckles.”

I have to do something. We’re headed for a dangerous place called the past and my die-hard crush. “I mean… and the fact that you hadn’t hit puberty at the advanced age of seventeen.”

I fake a grimace and glance down at his crotch.

He lets out that contagious laugh I’ve always loved, and I can’t help but enjoy the fact that sitting on his lap allows me to feel his laugh, too, as his body shakes underneath me. He even throws back his head as if I really took him off guard, and I can’t help the rise in pride to be able to make Briggs Conley laugh that big.

When he come back around to face me, there’s a flirtatious smile stretched across his face, and it might as well be Niagara Falls in my panties.

“Well, I guess now I’m going to have to show you how generous puberty was to me in order to clear any misconceptions.”

“Wait, what? Briggs—” I squeal as he grips both of his burly hands around my waist and hoists me up off his lap, disposing me flat on my back on my new side of the bed.

He begins to tickle my waist as he’s still sitting up right next to me. I try to push his hands away, but his arms are so much longer and stronger than mine that I’m at a huge disadvantage.

“Admit it’s anaconda big.”

“What?!” I laugh from the continued tickling.

“Admit it’s the biggest thing you’ve ever seen.”

I can’t stop laughing, and I barely choke out the words. “I had to use a telescope to see it across the pond.”

I snort a laugh as his fingers move quicker as my punishment, and I try to wiggle toward the end of the bed to find freedom from his clutches since trying to fend him off isn’t proving fruitful.

“You’re not getting away that easy,” he says, grabbing my hips and yanking me back toward him. He adjusts his body, and before I know it, Briggs Conley, the man I’ve had a childhood crush on since the beginning of time, slides himself between my thighs and presses his pelvis against mine. His cock is bulging, and the weight of it against me sends a swirl of excitement through my belly. “Say it or I’ll…” he demands in a teasing voice.

“You’ll what? Prove how big it is?” I ask, teasing, but then realize what I just said.

Briggs’s grin wipes clean off his face as he stares back at me. My smile freezes on my face, and then slowly dies because something in the air between us just changed. He glances down at our connected bodies, and then so do I.

My chest is still heaving from laughing so hard, and so is his. Our hearts are pumping, and our lungs are desperate for more air.

There’s something in his eyes. Something dangerous to his relationship with my brother and dangerous to my promotion.

“Do you want me to?” he asks.

My stomach flips, and I swallow hard.

“Briggs… I don’t think this is a good idea.“

“No… it’s not.”

He doesn’t move an inch, and neither do I. I’m practically holding my breath as he looks deep into my eyes. He feels closer than ever, his lips not far from mine. Then he leans down and presses his lips against mine.

My body explodes in tingles all over as the warmth of his mouth spreads across my own. The kiss is soft, but then he pulls back for a second and looks into my eyes.

“Briggs, this isn’t—”

He dips back down and seals our lips together in a demanding kiss. I’m still in shock. This can’t be real.

His right hand snakes up the side of my body, just briefly skating over my breast as his hand wraps around my neck, his fingers plunging into the thick of my hair. He pulls my mouth tighter against his, and I open for him. His tongue dips in, and it’s the first real taste of Briggs I’ve ever had. I moan at the sensation, the taste, the heat.

My verbal approval eggs him on as his hips begin to move, and his hardening cock grinds into the part of me that needs connection even more than our mouths.

I moan again as the pressure between my thighs increases. The probability that he might get me off before he’s taken off a single article of clothing is a mortifying and equally delicious thought.

His hand releases the side of my neck and begins to trail down my body. His fingers dip under my shirt and glide back up my rip cage until his index finger and thumb sneak past the elastic of my sports bra.

He’s almost there, his fingers almost secured about my breast, and then there won’t be any turning back. I’ll beg him to race past third base and go for a home run. I know it’s the wrong sport, but Briggs was one hell of a baseball player, too, and a girl can’t deny a thick ass in a pair of baseball pants. Briggs used to wear them well.

“Yes,” I mutter as his hand almost seems to stall.

“Autumn… are you sure?”

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

“Shit!” I shriek, trying to cover my mouth. I try to pull out from under Briggs, but he grips me tighter and slides me further under him like he’s going to protect me if my brother busts through the door. I’d tell him that the only person needing protection is him, but it’s a moot point. He’s well aware of the dynamic here.

“Autumn,” I hear Isaac’s voice on the other side.

I try to clear the sex from my voice before answering, “Yeah?”

“Do you have a spare toothbrush? I forgot to pack mine.”

I exhale the breath I had trapped in my lungs since the minute he pounded on the door.

“What… too busy cockblocking me to remember your damn toothbrush?” Briggs whispers against my ear.

My stomach flips. Cock block. Did he just confirm that we were on the same page only a few moments ago? The heat of his mouth against my ear reminds me that I’m not far from that moment, even still.

“Uh, yeah…” I look up at Briggs, and he looks down at me, still nestled between my thighs. “Hold on, I’ll get it for you,” I say, attempting to push Briggs off me.

He finally moves off me but not from my weakling efforts. He flops to the side with a groan and lays the crook of his elbow over his eyes in defeat.

I want to ask Briggs what would have happened if Isaac hadn’t interrupted us. But I have a pissed-off brother standing on the other side of my bedroom door, and he isn’t the patient kind.

Especially when he thinks his little sister is tucked back in a bedroom with the big bad hockey wolf.

I walk out of the room, glancing over my shoulder as I go. Briggs is still lying there on the bed, in the same place and position he was in when he flipped himself off my body. My eyes slide down his body. The view of a decent size bulge in Briggs’s pants has me about ready to punch my brother in the throat for making me miss out. I’ve always known it was big, but to feel the evidence as he rubbed it against me was pretty phenomenal. I bite down on my lower lip unconsciously until I walk out into the hall, closing the door behind me, and my brother gives me a disgusted look.

“Oh, shut up,” I tell him, and power walk down the corridor.

This rental apartment has everything, and I’ll bet they stocked a spare toothbrush in the hallway closet. Isaac follows behind me closely. I rip open the closet door, and sure enough, a stack of toothbrushes is sitting on the shelf at eye level.

“Barbie or Paw Patrol?” I ask, showing him the kid’s toothbrush options.

He reaches over me and grabs a blue adult toothbrush, “I’ll take this, thanks.”

“Really, you sure don’t need one better designed for a child? Because what you did, flying here unannounced and sucker punching Briggs in the face at his place of employment just because you’re mad that we’re adults having an adult-“

“Don’t finish that.” He points at me, a scowl on his face. “I’m your brother, and it’s my job to protect you.”

“Correction. It’s Dad’s job to protect me. Your job is to issue me constant flattery and be a complete failure by comparison to my awesomeness… which, by the way, you suck at your job.” I roll my eyes. “Congrats on your big title win. Mom and Dad are disgustingly proud of you pummeling that guy’s face into the mat.”

Isaac wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’m sorry I made you mad, but in all fairness, I’ve warned Briggs about touching you… he knows better.”

“We’re not kids anymore—”

“Even more reason for him to leave you alone and not waste the years where you should be finding a good dude, getting married, and having the grandkids Mom keeps nagging me for.”

“Speaking of. Are you done with the ring girls? Anyone serious these days?” I ask.

“Hell no.” He laughs. “Come hang out with me for a few minutes. I haven’t seen you in over six months.”

I look longingly at the master bedroom door, wanting to get back in there and climb back under Briggs, even though I shouldn’t. One night could cost me a promotion.

“Don’t worry, Briggs can entertain himself,” he says, pulling me toward his room.

Yeah… that’s what I’m worried about. He should be ‘entertaining’ himself with me.

“Okay, fine. A few minutes.”

I walk in and sit on the spare bedroom bed. The room still smells like Briggs; the sour apple gum he chews occasionally and his spicy deodorant.

“What’s new?” he asks, walking into the bathroom and wetting a toothbrush from his overnight bag. Freaking liar! I should have known.

“Nice toothbrush, loser!” I call out.

He turns to look at me with that stupid grin I want to smack off his smug face.

He adds toothpaste and then walks back out of the bathroom.

“I wanted time alone with my little sister. I gave up a celebration party to be here,” he says and then starts brushing as if I want to watch him brush his teeth. Whatever, annoying brothers stay annoying brothers, I guess.

“And if you would have called first, I would have told you not to bother.”

He pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth. “Well, I’m here now, so tell me what’s new. How’s work?”

“Good. I’m actually up for a promotion.”

He keeps brushing but lifts his eyebrows as if to say he’s intrigued.

“I have this new campaign I’m running, and if I save this guy’s career, the company he plays… I mean, works for, will become a massive client for our firm. My boss is going to give me a promotion to head of client relations.”

My brother stops brushing for a second and stares at me, his mouth now full of foam. “Autumn, that’s amazing. They must really believe in you,” he mumbles with a full mouth.

I nod and stare down at my feet.

“What’s wrong?” he asks and then begins to brush again.

“I have to do something a little unorthodox and not something I would usually agree to do.”

My brother’s eyes widen to cartoon size. “Hold on.” He puts up a finger and heads for the bathroom. He spits, rinses and then puts the toothbrush away and walks with determination back out to where I’m sitting.

“What are they making you do? And who do I have to kill?”

Aww, that’s kind of sweet.

“No.” I laugh. “Not like that, jeez. Don’t you let out enough of that male testosterone in the ring?”

“If someone is making you do something that you don’t want to do…”

“No. It’s more like… I kind of have to lie for him,” I say, not making eye contact again, worried he’ll see Briggs Conley written in my pupils.

“Why?”

“Because he’s getting blackmailed for something he didn’t do, and I had this bright idea to improve his image in case the fake gossip comes out.”

“How would that help him?”

“He has a reputation already of being a party boy, and if we can paint him as a reformed, responsible man, then maybe, if the gossip hits, it won’t seem as plausible.”

“Is he reformed?”

Good question.

“I don’t know.”

“Does he deserve your help?” he asks, staring back at me, waiting for my answer, his big, bruised fighter hands pinched at his waist.

I stop and think about that for a second. It’s not something I’ve ever asked when I’ve worked on PR cases in the past. Is Briggs guilty of what the exotic dancer accused him of… no. But is he actually going to keep himself out of trouble and get his drinking under control after this all blows over? I have no idea.

What I do know is that I know the real Briggs. The one before all the fame and money, and he is worth my help. The man who pulled me further under him only a little while ago to protect me against my brother, even though he knows my brother would never hurt me. He should have backed away from me for self-preservation, but instead, he leaned in, holding me closer.

Somehow, it feels like he lost his way, but over the last twenty-four hours, I feel a little bit of him is coming back.

“Yes, he deserves my help.”

My brother sighs and then thinks for a second.

“Then he’s a lucky asshole to have you on his side, and you should do whatever you have to help him.”

If only you knew who you were pushing me closer toward.

“Thanks, Isaac.”

We chat for another fifteen minutes or so about his life in Las Vegas and how I like living downtown in Seattle, and then I yawn.

“All right,” he says dramatically, “I guess you can go to bed. Love you, Autumn.” He grins, opening up his arms to signal he wants a hug goodnight.

“Love you, too,” I say as I stand, my brother stepping in to give me a quick hug, and then I walk out of the bedroom and head for my room.

I hear my brother’s door click closed, and I exhale, hoping that’s the last I see of him tonight.

I’m nervous and excited to see Briggs again. Wondering if he’ll want to start where we left off or if he’s already stripped out of his clothes and is waiting for me naked in the bed.

When I open the door, my smile falls.

He’s snoring.

Dead asleep on my side of the bed.

Great. So much for a warm reunion.

I debate just stripping down, yanking on a pair of pajamas and climbing into bed, but I wasn’t joking about the bath… I still really want one.

I grab my tablet off the dresser where I left it earlier and head for the bath, flip on the water and dump enough bubbles in to build a reasonable-sized replica of the Eiffel Tower, which I do right before I start my book.

An hour later, I can’t keep my eyes open, and it’s time for bed. I drain the water and pull on a cute pair of pajamas that I just bought before I moved in here because, duh, I maybe didn’t expect anything to happen with Briggs, but I’m not a hundred years old. I still had plans to flutter around the apartment in cute jammies in front of my old crush. When would I ever get another chance like this?

I walk out and find that in the last hour while I was in the bath, Briggs discarded his pants and shirt as they are currently laid over the dresser. I find a now shirtless mound of hot muscle asleep in my spot.

If I actually thought I could move the mountain of a man currently sleeping in my spot, I’d make an attempt to transfer him to the other side, but I’m too damn tired. Tomorrow, I’ll beat him to bed and get my spot back.

I roll my eyes and slide onto the wrong side of the bed and pull the covers over me, facing away from the tasty man lying on the other side.

I lay down and begin to fall asleep. I’m not quite into full REM when a strong arm and a warm body scoops me up and yanks me back against a wall of muscle.

“Briggs?” I whisper.

“No talking,” he mutters, half asleep.

“But…”

“Shhh, go to sleep, Autumn.”

That’s it. No kiss goodnight. No telling me to have sweet dreams.

I’m not sure what happens next for us but whatever it is, I hope every night ends in spooning with Briggs Conley.