Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1)

by Rhonda James

  "You're crazy. I don't have a magic vagina," I say, shaking my head at her logic. Call me crazy, but right now my lady bits aren't feeling very magical. If anything, spending the last few days alone has left me feeling lonely and horny.

  "Maybe not, but in your heart you know I'm right."

  I flash her the first smile I've smiled in days and mentally run through everything I ever learned from Harry Potter.

  You know, just in case...

  As we approach the grassy area outside the auditorium, Roni begins tugging on my arm, encouraging me to walk faster. There's a game of touch-football being played on the lawn, not an unusual occurrence for this particular part of campus, but when the guys playing happen to be half the men's hockey team a crowd is bound to gather. My heart leaps at the prospect of seeing B again.

  We claim a patch of grass and drop down to join the oglefest. Is that even a word? If not, it should be, because the men gathered here this afternoon are definitely worthy of ogling. Less than fifteen feet away, a herd of bunnies have taken up residence, no surprise there, and it's all I can do not to gag every time I hear one of them cheering for B. Thinking back to my first night in Ann Arbor, I remember the comment Scotty had made about multiple girls in Brantley's bed. Now that we've been intimate, it leaves me wondering which of these girls he's taken back to his apartment. Jealousy rises to the surface when I realize that maybe my magic box doesn't possess the kind of special powers Roni was referring to. Maybe mine was just another notch in his belt. I quickly brush that thought away and do my best to focus on the game, but it's hard to look out there and see anyone but him.

  I watch the next three plays and study the way he moves. I watch the way the muscles in his back ripple when he raises an arm to throw a pass, and I think about the way they'd contracted during his climax. The rise and fall of his chest after sprinting for a touchdown reminds me of the first time I took him in my mouth and he'd fallen apart beneath me.

  Sitting here is pure torture. I should get up and leave. Guard my heart from the pain I'm sure to inflict upon it by staying here. But I can't bring myself to walk away again. Just being in his presence has me feeling lighter than I had been before arriving. At one point our eyes connect and I can tell he's surprised to see me. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth before he gathers his team around him in a huddle. No more than thirty seconds pass before they break and Davis begins calling out numbers and something else I can't quite understand. The play begins and the guys start to scatter. Before I know what's happening, I see Davis lowering his arm to deliver a pass right into B's awaiting hands, and before I know it, he falls to the ground and somehow ends up with his head in my lap.

  "Hey, you," a smile forms on my lips when his amber eyes meet mine, "nice play."

  "Pretty smooth, huh? I'll let you in on a little secret." His finger beckons me to lean down so he can whisper in my ear. "This little stunt wasn't exactly an accident."

  "No, really?" I flutter my lashes and feign surprise. Being this close reminds me how much I've missed him.

  "Cross my heart." He makes an X over his chest and a sad smile appears. My hand instinctively cups his cheek, and the warmth of his skin burns straight through me. "God, I've missed you."

  I don't know if it's the look in his eyes or the feel of his hand as our fingers twine together then break apart far too soon, but I come to the conclusion that I don't want whatever it is we have to end. I need him, and I'll take whatever it is he's willing to give me.

  "Bet I've missed you more," I quip, and my flirty response is rewarded with a wicked grin.

  Davis' hand reaches down, interrupting our moment, to lift Brantley back to a standing position. Our little reunion lasts less than a minute.

  "Quit screwing around, Cage. We're trying to play a game here," Davis grumbles, shaking his head at his teammate.

  "Will you stick around?" His eyes plead with me to say yes, so I nod my head and turn to find Roni wearing a smug grin.

  "What are you smiling about?" I ask, working hard to contain a smirk of satisfaction. He missed me.

  "You're a clever little vixen. I believe I've underestimated you, Cassie Rivers," she clucks her tongue, giving me a sideways glance. "With a mere touch of your hand you had that man begging with puppy dog eyes."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about." We're both giggling before I finish getting the words out.

  The game finishes with Brantley's team taking the win, and the guys go their separate ways, while the bunnies scamper after them in pairs. A few circle around Brantley, slowing him down on his way back to me, but surprisingly I'm not the least bit affected by it. I can't hear what they're asking him. I only see him shake his head in response before brushing past them to get to me. He comes to a stop and towers over me with his hands on his hips.

  Without a word, I tip my head back and flash him a toothy grin.

  "I've missed that goofy smile. Get over here, woman," he extends his arms and pulls me to a standing position. Once I'm on my feet, he surprises me by bending his head and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

  "B! What are you doing?" I hiss, "Someone might see you."

  "Nah, they're not paying attention to us. Feel like taking a walk?"

  "I'd love that." He wraps an arm around my waist and I lean into him as we cut across campus. When we reach the path, I guide him in the direction of my dorm.

  "Cassie, I'm really sorry about the way we left things. I've been a wreck since you left my truck. God, I wanted so badly to jump out and chase you down."

  "It's okay. In a way I'm glad you didn't. I needed that time alone. It was hard, but it was good for me. It gave me time to figure some things out."

  "Oh, yeah? What kind of things?" he stops walking and leads me off the path behind a row of shrubbery. He blows out a heavy breath, and when I look up, I can see he's nervous. Taking his hands in mine, I offer a smile to ease his worry.

  "I was thinking maybe we're being too hasty by trying to pretend nothing happened. What if there were other options?"

  "Go on," he prods.

  My hands fidget between us as I search for the right words. "Well, I was thinking that maybe we could try the FWB approach."

  It's clear my suggestion takes him by surprise when his mouth opens but nothing comes out. For a split second I wish I could take it back. Embarrassment washes over me and I take a step back, squeezing my eyes shut as I imagine a spell that would magically erase the last three minutes.

  The sound of his throaty chuckle is what makes me open my eyes, and when I do I find him staring at me with a hunger I've never seen. "Why, Cassandra Rivers, I don't believe I've ever heard sexier words come out of your mouth," he nuzzles his nose over my neck, trailing his tongue in its wake, and I melt in his arms. "Just so we're clear, what kind of benefits are we talking about?" The teasing lilt in his voice is music to my ears.

  "You know," my voice quivers when his tongue tickles the outer shell of my ear. His lips hover, and the heat of his breath mixes with my cool skin to send shivers down my spine.

  "You mean we can keep fucking while acting as if nothing's changed? Is that what my little sex kitten is proposing?" his mouth is on me, firm and unyielding in its attack. I run my hands over his bare skin, skimming the waistband of his shorts before reaching in and settling on his bare ass.

  "That's exactly what I'm proposing. Think you can handle that, Superman?" He answers by redirecting my hand to the front of his shorts. He's thick and hot to the touch, and my mouth waters when I think about the last time we were together.

  "I can handle it just fine, Dimples. What I need to know is, can you?" his eyes search mine, all playfulness gone as he waits for my response. This is it. My chance to walk away and spare my heart the damage it's sure to endure. He's offering me everything he's capable of giving. The question is, do I agree to his terms even though I want more? Walk away now and live with the memories. Or stick around and savor every moment we have together, regardless of the
cost.

  The choice is easy.

  I rock forward on the balls of my feet and bring my lips to his ear. "Bring. It. On." An animalistic growl falls from his parted lips as he lowers his mouth to mine. For the next five minutes we're nothing but hands and teeth as we fight to get closer, both chasing something unseen, something just beyond our reach, yet we're desperate to catch it. He strokes my breast with his thumb, teasing just enough to make me crave more. My soft whimpers encourage him, begging him to do more. I'm lost to his touch, so much so I forget where we are and who might see us.

  "Baby, I'm dying to have you in my bed, but are you sure this is what you want? You're not just saying this because you think it's what I want to hear?" I strain forward, craving his lips, but he holds me at arm’s length and forces me to look at him. "Cassie?"

  My gaze travels his body, firm and still sweaty from the game. From his dark, messy hair to the firm thighs I've straddled on more than one occasion, he's all man. And right now he's offering himself to me if I'm up to playing it his way.

  "This is what I want. I need this too." As soon as I say the words his hands are back on me, grabbing me by the seat of my pants to pull me to his waist. I lock my ankles around him and feel his arousal line up against my opening. If it weren't for the clothing separating us, he'd bury himself inside me.

  I kiss my way up his neck and whisper in his ear. "I've got the dorm to myself tonight."

  "Shit," he lowers his forehead to mine. "I have practice in thirty minutes. That's not enough to do everything I want to do to you." I frown against his lips but nod my head in understanding. "I'll be done with practice at nine. Be ready for me." He commands before giving me a kiss that makes my knees weak and leaves my lips burning for more.

  Once I'm on my own, a shadow of doubt creeps in and I wonder if I'm capable of handling this new role.

  I'm Brantley Cage's sex kitten...

  I close my eyes and pray we both come out of this unscathed, but something tells me that's an impossible request.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  BRANTLEY

  Only two minutes are left in the game with the score tied at 2-2. Vickers circles the net and passes off to Masterson, directing the play away from GL territory. The puck is intercepted by Owens and carried back into our offensive zone, and he fires a shot that goes wide and to the right of the net. It's picked up by a Boston forward, who weaves between our D-men as if they're standing still. He passes it off to Owens, but we've got him surrounded and it goes loose. Davis is on it in a flash and on a breakaway carries the puck across the red line just as I leave the bench and hustle after him to cover the play.

  Mitchell comes out of nowhere and body checks me from behind, and I'm slammed against the boards. "Give it up, pretty boy," he grimaces.

  "Fuck you," I growl and ram my stick in his gut. The pain in my back is intense from where his shoulder connected, but I'm the first to skate away.

  The entire game has played out this way. Mitchell stepped on the ice looking for a fight, and tonight he found one. Normally, I'm the level-headed player on the ice. I let my skating and stick handling do the talking, not my fists. But today my head isn't in the game, and I've allowed him to get to me. Between the two of us, we've spent more time in the sin bin than anyone else. Any other game it's the last place I want to be, but this guy's an asshole and Coach knows it. Though that doesn't stop him from reaming my ass out every time I'm on the bench.

  We're on Boston's ice today, and so far it's been a tight game. We've skated our asses off; we're tired and looking to finish with a much needed win. I look to my left and see Davis skating toward the net. Once again, Mitchell is behind me as we follow every move Nelson makes. Mitchell is bulky, and it slows him down. I'm tall but lean, and I'm fast. Lightning fast. Nelson passes me the puck and I circle behind the net and pass off to Davis, who tips it in through the five hole, scoring us the winning goal.

  "Fuck, yeah, that was awesome!" I shout, gathering the back of his helmet in my gloved hands. Nelson skates over, and I flash him a winning smile. "Great setup, Nelson."

  Our celebration is cut short by Coach ushering us off the ice. We have to shower and catch a bus back to Ann Arbor, and we're on a tight schedule. I've just finished pulling off my skates when the sound of Coach's voice silences the celebratory chatter in the locker room. I look up just in time to see a clipboard whizzing past my left shoulder. It's a good thing Masterson just headed for the showers, or else he'd have taken a hit to the back of the head.

  "That victory is hardly worth celebrating. You may have won, but you were sloppy out there. At this point in the game, I expect more from all of you." He focuses his anger on me as he approaches. "Especially you, Cage. You are the assistant captain; these guys look for you to be an example. What the hell were you doing out there? We almost lost that one because you couldn't keep your temper in check." Coach Bishop is normally a level-headed guy, but he has a low tolerance for penalties taken for fighting.

  "Coach, that guy was an asshole. You should have heard the shit he was throwing at me," I argue.

  "I've told you boys time and again you need to be the bigger man. You're a damn good player, Brantley. You shouldn't waste your time polishing the pine. You want to fight and spend half the game in the penalty box, that's fine. But save it for when you're on someone else's bench. Until then, your ass belongs to me, and I want you on the ice and doing the job you were recruited to do. Remember that next time some dickhead tries to get under your skin." And with that, he storms off, leaving his clipboard on the floor behind me.

  "Hey, man, Mitchell's a giant D-bag. He deserved everything you dished out, and then some," Rivers declares, clapping me on the shoulder on his way to the showers.

  When we board the bus I look for a quiet seat near the front so I can be alone and reflect on today's game. Even though we won, my mood is sour. Coach was right. I never should've let him get to me like that. I'd gone in there with my head somewhere else. I blame Cassie and the fact that sex with her has taken over my life. That girl is a total sex maniac. And I'm not complaining, but there have been a few nights this week where I didn't fall asleep until well past three in the morning. That's what happens when you have roommates and one of them just happens to be an overprotective brother you're lying to.

  I lose myself on social media, checking for posts about the game. The game was televised, so it's no surprise to find my pages littered with comments about how I kicked ass, or nearly lost it for the team. Some praised my actions while others called me a selfish asshole. I skim through a few posts and feel a jolt of pride when I find Cassie has bitched out one of my attackers. Poor asshole has no clue he just had his ass handed to him by a pixie with the sexiest dimples ever. I pull up her contact and shoot her a quick text.

  Me: Thinking about u...

  Her: Oh yeah? Sexy thoughts I hope...

  Me: R there any other kind?

  Her: For u? No way. I saw the game. How r u?

  Me: Mad as hell. Wish I were there 2 hold u.

  Her: You'll see me tomorrow night.

  Me: Sweet dreams, Dimples.

  Either the guys know I need some time to myself, or they're too tired to notice, but no one bothers to fill the empty seat next to me. The bus is quiet. Too quiet after a win. Coach's outburst in the locker room seems to have us all thinking about our performance tonight. Sure, we won, but Coach had been right, it was a sloppy win. The two goals that had slipped past Rivers were the same shots he's stopped a thousand times before. We lost Thompson during the second period after a concussion left him unable to continue, and that loss had been hard to recover from. He's one of our best forwards, and coach had to send in one of the rookies to take his spot on the line.

  I end up dozing off while scrolling through photos of Cassie. My favorite is one I took two mornings ago when she was in my bed. The sun was streaming through the window, landing on the pillow beside me where her head rested. She was staring up at me with this smoldering
gaze. She looked so beautiful I had to take a photo. Her pink lips are parted to speak, but I've forgotten what she even said, because the look in her eyes said she wanted me, and those had been the words I'd listened to right before burying myself balls deep inside her warmth.

  "Wake up, sleepyhead." I crack open one heavy eyelid and find Rivers sitting beside me.

  "Hey. What time is it?" I ask through a yawn.

  "After eleven. Coach says we should be home around midnight. I don't know about you but I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed." I nod my head in agreement as I have every intention of falling into bed and staying there for the next eight hours. "Who's Candy?" he asks, squinting at the phone he's holding.

  I love my roommates, but they're nosey as hell, which is precisely why I never changed Candy's name to Cassie once I found out who she really was. I figured this would be safer. Turns out I'd been right. I reach over and snag it from his hand, discreetly closing out the photo as I do, and read the text she sent while I was sleeping. Six words are all it takes to make me hard.

  They're sweeter when I'm with u.

  "Just a girl I met."

  "Judging from what I read I take it you've been properly introduced," he gives me a wink and a jab to the ribs and my heart pounds in my chest. This is the first time we've been alone since Cassie and I started fucking around, and I hope like hell I don't look as guilty as I feel. "Where does one meet a girl named Candy anyhow?"

  "She's a performer at the um... the Landing Strip." The lie slips easily past my lips. "She was in town and I ran into her. We've hooked up a few times."

  "Dude, you're banging a stripper? That's hot as hell. Way to go, man." We bump fists.

  "Yeah, pretty hot," I laugh and turn to look out the window, wondering when I became someone who lies to his best friend without blinking an eye. "So, how are things with Ash?"