Page 81 of Cross the Line

“Great,” Zayn said. “Georgia, you’re up.”

Shit. What?

“No. I’m not a big fan of tequila.” Georgia wrinkled her nose, clearly trying to avoid an awkward situation with the guy her best friend was secretly sleeping with.

“Since when?” Boone nudged her. “The last time we went out, all you wanted was tequila.”

“Exactly.” Georgia straightened. “That put me off it.” She shuddered, but I knew for a fact that she was lying. She was doing this for Logan and me.

“Okay. We’ll need someone else, then.” Zayn glanced around, but just as he was about to ask one of the random women standing nearby, Logan stepped closer to me.

“I’ll do it!”

I rolled my lips between my teeth to hide my reaction. Apparently, she was just as possessive as I was. I fucking loved it.

“I mean, if it’s okay with Carson,” she added, though we both knew I was more than fine with it.

Boone leaned in. “I only hope KT doesn’t find out,” he taunted.

He’d tried to lower his voice, but he’d clearly failed. It was a good thing Logan was facing me so no one could see the fact that she was trying not to laugh. When I glanced at Georgia, her cheeks were pink, amusement dancing in her eyes. Apparently, Logan had told her she was KT as well.

I unbuttoned my shirt, shimmying my shoulders so it slid down. Logan’s eyes darkened, and I was tempted to remove my shirt entirely just to see how she’d react. Instead, I smirked as I grabbed a cocktail napkin from the tray.

I dipped the napkin in the glass of water before swiping it along my collarbone, watching her the entire time. Her eyes were hooded, and I wondered how far I could push her. I applied a thin layer of salt, already imagining the feel of her touch on my skin. And then I grabbed a slice of lime.

“Ready?” I asked Logan.

She nodded, meeting my eyes, her own dancing with mischief. I placed the lime in my mouth so the skin was facing me. She took a step forward, closing the distance between us.

Okay. Great. We were doing this. She was going to lick salt off my skin, while pretending we were nothing more than friends. And I was going to try not to get a hard-on with an audience. Awesome.

She leaned forward, and I could smell her shampoo—familiar and alluring. I fucking loved when she wore her hair down, and I wanted to run my fingers through her tresses. Her breath was warm on my skin, and my eyes briefly fluttered shut. My self-control was unraveling faster than I could even process.

Slowly, she swiped her tongue along my skin, and it was difficult not to imagine her using her mouth on a different part of my body. My cock jolted, and I clenched my hands at my sides to stop myself from touching her. And then she threw back the shot, quickly pushing up on her toes.

Her eyes were locked on mine, and she looked as if she was trying not to smirk as she leaned in. Her lips brushed against mine, and I almost kissed her out of habit, my reflexes begging me to do just that. Instead, I stood there as if in a daze, watching as everyone cheered.

Logan grinned, dropping the lime wedge into her empty shot glass before setting it back on the tray. And then she came over, righting my shirt. Her knuckles grazed my skin with each button she returned to its hole, and then she patted my chest with a playful smile. But when her gaze met mine, I could see the desire that burned through her.

“My turn.” Boone edged his way in, forcing Logan and me to break eye contact. “I’m usually a giver—” He winked at some of the women standing nearby. “But I’m going to have to be a taker this time. Since we just won the Stanley Cup.” He turned to Logan. “Lo, will you help me out?”

She smiled so sweetly, I could tell she had something up her sleeve. And then she said, “Absolutely.” She turned to some of the women gathered nearby. “Anyone want to let a Stanley Cup champion take a shot off them?”

Boone’s expression dropped, his disappointment clear. It was brief, and I didn’t think Logan had seen it, but I had. Two women stepped up, eagerly volunteering their services. Boone seemed appeased, and I was grateful his attention was no longer on Logan.

Enough.

Enough sharing. Enough pretending.

While Boone licked the salt from the cleavage of one of the women, I dragged Logan back out to the dance floor.

She was facing me now, hips swaying as she grabbed my shirt, pulling me closer. It was cute—the way she thought she was the one in control. My thigh was wedged between her legs, and I could feel the heat radiating from her. I pushed closer, giving her the friction she so desperately craved.

“Did you have fun?” I all but growled, her nipples brushing against my chest. “Watching me squirm in front of all our friends?”

She turned so her lips were next to my ear. “I thought you liked having an audience.”

I chuckled because she wasn’t wrong. And I loved that she enjoyed pushing my boundaries just as much as I enjoyed pushing hers. We were good for each other. We challenged each other—both on the ice and in the bedroom.