Iced Out (Leighton U #1)(38)

“No one’s falling and we’re not friends.”

His face hardens slightly before the snark comes out. “Ah, yes. See, this is exactly what I mean. Why would you ever give me something like affection when you can keep being hostile?”

I smirk and give a single nod. “Now you’re catching on.”

That earns me an eye roll. “As I was saying…I had to practically beg you to get in bed with me, and even when you agreed, you still almost bitched out at the last minute.” He pauses, shrugging his tee on over his head, leaving his hair a tousled, sexy mess. “I thought maybe you weren’t attracted to me. You know, the whole he’s just not that into you thing.”

“Definitely not.” I lean back against the wall, grinning. “Guess I just needed a bit more convincing.”

A returning grin appears on his lips, and it’s filthy. His eyes are heated as he stalks over to where I’m sprawled on his bed, not stopping until he’s climbed over me and straddling my waist. My dick takes immediate notice of this new positioning, and even though it hasn’t been more than twenty minutes since he came all over Quinton’s chest, he’s definitely a fan of getting a round two in before going home.

Too bad it’s probably against the rules. My rules, but still.

“Or,” he says, palms landing against the wall on either side of my head, “you just wanted me to work for it.”

“Oh, absolutely. I wasn’t about to be one of those puck bunnies that just jumped into bed with you on a whim, looking for a good time.”

“Why do you continue to make me out to be a total manwhore?”

My brows furrow. “Uh, because you kind of are? Exhibit A being the way you’re currently grinding down on my cock like a stripper giving a lap dance.”

And he is. I didn’t notice when he first straddled me, but somewhere between now and then, he must’ve felt my dick perk up and decided to play games. The devilish smirk on his face only proves it.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm, sure you don’t,” I mutter before shoving him off me to adjust my erection. “Now I have to wait for this to go away so I can leave.”

He laughs, his stupid dimples peeking out in his cheeks as he leans against the wall beside me.

“Tell me something real, then. To pass the time ‘til he decides to behave.”

My brows crash together. “What do you mean?”

“You say I’m all fun and sex and surface level, but it’s not like you’ve shown me anything deeper either.” He lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “So if you’re gonna talk the talk, you better—”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

But the thing is, I’m not sure I want to.

This is supposed to be just sex. Not sharing feelings and all that crap. Hell, I probably shouldn’t have gotten in the habit of hanging around afterward. Yet I did because the way he looked at me when I rushed out of here after the first time made me feel all kinds of disgusting.

“Earth to Oakley?”

I shake my head free from the thoughts plaguing me, flicking my gaze to him. “Yeah?”

“Pick something to tell me.”

Ugh. “What’s the point? My dick’s calmed down, now I can go.”

He ignores me, maintaining his focus on wiggling some information out of me instead. “Pick something easy. Like…why did you care about being captain so much?”

My brows arch. “Why did you?”

“Because it pissed you off,” he says, a wry smirk sitting on his lips. “Nice deflection, though. Your turn. Why’d you want to be captain so bad?”

Goddamnit.

I have no interest in doing this. It’s not why I’m here. And I’m about to say that too, to make my point known that it’s useless for us to get to know each other on this level when we’re just…enemies with benefits.

But then that expression crosses his face. The same one he had the first night when I was leaving, and it hits me square in the chest all over again.

Rejection.

And I just can’t let him feel it. Not anymore, and not because of me.

Fucking hell.

“I…” I trail off, not knowing where to start. “I guess it was just something I expected from myself.”

“Because you’re Coach’s nephew?”

There’s no hate or inflection behind the question, but it still pricks at my nerves the same.

“Not in the way you might think. He and my dad have been grooming me to take the place as a role model and captain since I was a kid. It’s literally in my blood, a legacy I wanted to continue.”

“So it was for them, not for you?”

“It was still for me, because it’s in me. I’ve built my career on being the teammate who picks up everyone else, to put our success as a whole above my own.” I shake my head. “It sounds stupid—”

“It doesn’t,” he says, cutting in. When I meet his gaze, I find honesty in it. “I swear, it doesn’t.”

His understanding keeps me talking, diving in a little deeper.

“I just want to build on it, I guess. I don’t want to keep being the son of Travis Reed or the nephew of Trevor Reed. I want to make my own name, put my mark on the league as Oakley Reed, badass hockey player. With whatever accolades and titles I earn on my own.”