Holy crap on a cracker, Batman.
I’ve seen the guy without a shirt more times than I can count. I even got to touch those bad boys in the locker room a little while ago. But it doesn’t matter how many times I get front row seats to the Adonis in front of me. The sight never gets old.
Sunkissed skin. Tiny nipples. A small dusting of hair on his pecs. And a blonde happy-trail leading from his belly button to his jeans. Not to mention his broad shoulders and chiseled abs.
My mouth waters as they come into view. He drops the cotton material onto the ground, his gaze never leaving mine.
Hot damn.
Is it hot in here?
The brunette whistles and picks up a stray Ping-Pong ball from the grass. Then, she strides closer, taking his compliance with her suggestion as some sort of twisted approval to approach him. Her dark red lips pucker as she holds Theo’s gaze and blows on the Ping-Pong ball like it’s the head of his dick or something before she offers it to him.
“Wow,” I whisper under my breath.
Subtle, girlfriend. Really subtle.
Theo’s attention shifts to me again for a split second as if he heard me. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but his eyes spark with…something as he pastes on the fakest, most arrogant smile I’ve ever seen. His chuckle is low as he winks at the girl, takes the ball from her talon hand, and lobs it toward the table without even bothering to look at his target. It bounces once in the center, then lands in a cup on our side.
“You been practicing?” Burrows jokes as he reaches for the cup, drinks its contents, then tosses it over his shoulder onto the grass. Then he turns to me and smiles, hooking his thumbs in his boxers.
I look up at the sky, ignoring the curiosity buzzing in my veins or the fact I can most definitely still feel his gaze on me, along with another pair of eyes from across the table.
“You’re out, Burrows,” Theo calls, his tone brooking no argument. “And that’s game.”
My head snaps toward him. “Excuse me? I believe I’m still playing.”
“I think we’re done here.”
“And I think I’m still pretty much clothed,” I point in, my not-boyfriend naked but forgotten beside me. Because right now, I don’t care. My competitive instinct is in full-blown overdrive, and if Theo thinks he won because he knocked Burrows out of the game, he’s got another thing coming.
“Then, we’ll call it a tie,” he decides.
“No. We’ll keep playing until one of us loses.”
“I’m not gonna lose, Blake.”
“Pretty cocky for someone who’s missing his shirt.”
“Pretty confident for someone who’s missing both shoes,” he counters.
“Then, I’d say we agree, and this game is far from over.”
“Fine. Claim the title.” He pushes himself away from the makeshift Ping-Pong table. “You win.”
I pause, my mouth falling open as the truth dawns on me.
No. Freaking. Way.
“You don’t want to see me naked, do you?” I accuse.
The crowd falls quiet, their attention shifting from Theo to me and back again.
A beat of silence passes, and Theo announces, “Good game, everyone. Burrows, get your pants back on. Depp, you too.”
He’s ignoring me. Acting like I’m a petulant child. Which means, whatever effort he’d been putting into looking at me like I’m an equal is a bunch of bullshit.
Marching toward the bastard, I jab my finger against his bare chest. “Is that what it is? Gwyn can show her boobs to everyone, and Tukani can hang out in your hot tub without a swimsuit, but I’m not allowed to play a simple game of Strip Pong all because you might catch a glimpse of my chest?”
“Blake––”
“The only reason you decided to jump in was so you could end the game as quickly as possible. Am I right?” I demand.
A vein in his forehead throbs as he finally gives me an ounce of his attention and turns his heated gaze on me, staring me down. The rest of the party is silent. Or maybe they aren’t, and I’m too invested in the conversation to notice. Regardless, in this moment, it’s only me and Theo. Going head-to-head over something so stupid, yet so important, it’s mind-boggling.
“Am. I. Right?” I repeat.
“Good game, Theo,” Burrows interjects, sidling up next to us. His jeans are back on, but he’s clutching his T-shirt in his hand as he slides an arm around my waist.
Theo’s gaze drifts to Burrows’ grasp on my hip. It stays glued there until he shakes his head and steps around us. “Good game, guys.”
I watch the muscles along his back bunch and flex as he walks a few feet away. I yell out, “Teddy!”
He stops.
“Teddy!” I call again. “Look at me.”
As if in slow motion, he turns around and faces me. And while I have no doubt I look about two seconds from ripping his head off, he looks…indifferent. Cold. Detached. Like an asshole.
I hold his stare with my own, blindly reaching for a red Solo cup on the table. I’m not sure why I do it or what’s spurring me on. It’s like I’m looking down at my body from up in the clouds but have no control over what I’m doing or how stupid it is. But it doesn’t matter. Because I don’t stop. I lift the beer to my lips as Theo’s eyes narrow. It tastes bitter and warm as I throw the drink back, all while staring at him a few feet away. Then, I grab the hem of my shirt, yank it off, throw it on the ground, and pick up another cup of beer.
“What are you doing?” Theo growls.
“Playing the game.”
Theo’s gaze darkens as I pick up a second cup and shoot down the alcohol, then reach for the button on my jeans. Burrows stops me with a gentle hand on mine.
“Blake,” he warns. It isn’t harsh or commanding. It’s soft. Hell, it’s the only voice of logic swimming in my brain, and yet I still don’t want to listen. I don’t want to be logical. I want to be pushed. I want to be dared. I want to take back an ounce of the power Theo manages to strip every single fucking time he’s around me.
My fingers drag along the denim fabric, toying with the button, my stomach pooling with warmth. Theo’s gaze drops to my fingers. Watching. Waiting. His molars grind as he digs his fingers into his thighs. Like he wants to reach for me. To touch me. To make me stop. To make me keep going.
I drag my finger in a circular motion over the button, playing with it for one more second just to see if his eyes can darken a shade further than they already are. His lips part, and his breathing turns shallow. But he doesn’t move. He just…waits. To see if I’ll push him any further, and fuck, do I want to push him further. I grasp the heavy material between my thumb and forefinger, ready to undo the button when––
“Blake,” Burrows murmurs beside me.
I drop my hands to my sides.
He’s right. What the hell am I doing? Giving the entire hockey team a strip tease?
Snap. The hell. Out of it.
“Good game, Theo,” I tell him.
I strut toward the house, leaving my shirt on the stupid ground while ignoring the stares from everyone at the party.
As I slip past Theo, who still hasn’t bothered to move a muscle, Burrows murmurs, “Come on. Let me take you to my room.”