Page 84 of Cross the Line

“It’s easy to get them to undress,” Georgia said, exasperation lining her tone as she accepted a beverage. “The harder part is getting them to cover up.”

I chuckled. “Welcome to being a professional athlete. Working in this industry will definitely cure you of any need for modesty.”

“It’s like this on photo shoots sometimes,” Cece said. “Or at fittings. To the designer, I’m just a body, like working with a mannequin.”

“Hey, C.” Boone gave Cece a hug. “Great party.”

“Thanks, Boone.”

He glanced past her. “Oh sweet. A hot tub.” And then he headed that way, tossing his clothes aside.

I cringed. “I feel like I need to apologize on behalf of my team.”

Cece laughed. “Oh, please. There is nothing—” she leaned to the side, taking a good, long look at Boone’s ass “—to apologize for.” And then she muttered, “Damn,” under her breath.

Georgia had a teasing grin on her face. “Cece’s reasons for throwing this party might not have been completely altruistic.”

Cece lifted a shoulder, a smirk playing at her lips. “Perhaps not, but I never claimed they were.” Then she turned to Georgia. “I still don’t understand how you work with all these men and haven’t slept with any of them.”

“One.” Georgia held up a finger, ticking it off. “I’m on a dick detox.”

I nearly spewed out my drink at that. A dick detox? This was news to me.

“Two,” Georgia continued. “Even if I were interested in any of the players, there’s a no-fraternization clause in my contract. And three, my brother would kill me.”

Cece waved a hand through the air. “Brothers.” She blew a raspberry. “They should have zero say in our love lives.” But she was looking at Logan when she said it.

“I’ll drink to that.” Georgia lifted her glass, and Cece and Logan joined her, clinking theirs together before taking a sip.

“Come on,” Cece said, grabbing Logan’s hand and towing her along behind her. “Enough talk of bossy brothers. Let’s get in the water. You too, Carson.” She winked at me over her shoulder, and I wondered if she was flirting or if Logan had told her about us.

I chuckled, taking a sip of my drink before following along. Some of the guys were playing volleyball in the pool; others were drinking and watching a game of chicken. Zayn and Quinn were serving as the bases, each with a woman on their shoulders. I was pretty sure their audience was more interested in which girl’s tits were going to come free first, not who was going to win.

I turned my back on them and continued along the pathway dotted with solar lights. When we reached the hot tub, it was so large I almost thought it was a plunge pool. Gabe and Boone were already in the water, the jets obscuring their lower halves from view despite the electric-blue—Hawks blue—glow.

If the guys were naked, I couldn’t tell, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Especially since Boone had a woman draped over his lap, and she’d stripped down to her bra.

Georgia introduced Gabe to Cece, and Gabe looked a bit starstruck. I tried not to laugh because I had a feeling it was the same way I looked at Logan.

I removed everything but my briefs then climbed in, eager to let the warm water relax my sore muscles. Yes, I was riding high from the win, but I’d pushed my body to the limit—not just tonight, but all season. Logan pushed her skirt over her hips, and I was grateful my lower body was already submerged in the water because holy shit.

I smoothed my hands down my thighs, my eyes scanning up her legs to her thighs to her electric-blue underwear—Hawks blue. They were lacy and clung to her every curve. Then her shirt came off, revealing the matching lace bralette. Fuck me.

Boone’s date said something to him, and I realized he’d been staring at Logan too. I inhaled slowly. It doesn’t matter. I let out the breath slowly. Doesn’t matter.

My mantra wasn’t working. All night, I’d had to watch Boone flirt with Logan, and it wasn’t the first time. Nor was he the only man to show interest in her.

Boone’s guest straddled him, blocking his view. And then he went back to devouring her, but I got the impression he was only half interested. Or maybe that was just my jealousy talking.

Fucking “no strings.” I should’ve never agreed to that rule.

Logan joined us, claiming the spot next to me. My shoulders relaxed, and I kept my eyes on the others while reaching for her hand beneath the water. She laced her fingers with mine, giving my hand a squeeze. And I no longer felt so stressed about…well, anything really.

All night, we’d been drifting closer, playing with fire. Sometimes it seemed as if she wanted someone to catch us. It had started with her admission on the ice—I don’t want this to end. And the way she’d looked at me…god.

So many people had been watching, and I knew, I knew she wanted to kiss me. Right there. In the middle of the arena. With all those eyes on us.

She’d continued to push the boundaries at the club, the way she’d danced with me, taunted me. Yes, it had been dark, but anyone could’ve seen us together. My hands all over her body as if I could mark her with my touch, brand her as mine.