Watch Your Mouth: A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Kings of the Ice)

Grace

Closing my eyes wasn’t an option as I attempted yoga the next morning in the hotel gym.

Any time I did, the world spun, my stomach threatening to hit me with another wave of dry heaving. I’d already chugged water and popped some ibuprofen, but I had a feeling this hangover would hang around for at least half the day.

I couldn’t sleep in — never could the day after drinking — so I’d dragged my ass down to the gym with the best of intentions. But even a slow yoga flow wasn’t doing me any favors, so instead, I laid in a permanent corpse pose and stared up at the ceiling overthinking the night before.

Specifically — how I’d acted with Jaxson.

My memory was hazy, like I’d watched an old film rather than actively participated. I remembered all our conversations at the bar, and most of the chaos from playing quarters until Jaxson had quite literally carried me upstairs.

It was there that things got a little fuzzy.

I blinked, and a flash of Jaxson’s crooked grin as he stared down at me knocked my next breath from my lungs. Another blink, and I could feel every smooth, hard curve of his abdomen, could remember how my fingertips had explored those muscles like uncharted territory. I blinked again, and there was no doubt in my mind that he’d shivered at my touch, that his jaw had been set like he wanted to touch me, too.

Do you ever think about that night in Austin?

That memory made me groan and cover my eyes with my hands, shaking my head in embarrassment. I was a drunk, silly girl asking a grown ass professional hockey player if he ever thought about a night that he was saddled with his teammate’s little sister unwillingly. As if that night meant anything to him, as if he hadn’t fucked at least a half-dozen women since then.

Of course, I didn’t know that for sure… but it was a pretty safe bet.

Still… I wasn’t crazy, was I? He definitely flirted with me, too. He definitely shivered under my touch last night. He definitely looked at my mouth like he wanted to do very dirty things to it.

Something like a fist around my stomach reminded me that the last time I’d trusted my instincts when it came to reading a man’s actions, I’d ended up burned.

Listen to what he says, you idiot.

And what he says is that he’s not interested.

There was a soft snick that interrupted my thoughts, and then the gym door opened, and I swiveled my head on the mat in time to see Jaxson swing through.

He stared at his phone in his hands as he entered, noise-canceling headphones covering his ears. And where I was pretty sure I looked like death warmed over, he looked like he’d had the best night’s sleep of his life, like he’d just taken pre-workout and was ready to kick some ass.

I knew from growing up around my brother how brutal hockey season was on the body. By the end of it, especially if the team had any kind of playoff run, the guys were all leaned out and exhausted. It was impossible not to lose weight with how much and how aggressively they skated each day. So, in the off-season, they ate a shit ton of food and lifted heavy to try to build their muscle back up.

Staring at Jaxson, I had a hard time imagining where he could pack on any more muscle than he already had. He was fit as hell, and my eyes were naturally drawn over every inch of him, from his stacked traps to his monster thighs.

Jaxson swiped a towel and a bottle of water from the stand near the door before looking up from his phone, and when he spotted me, a little smirk curled on his lips.

I offered a two-finger wave from my mat, and he lifted his chin in response. Then, he headed straight for leg press while I pretended to do yoga.

I used to love yoga.

It used to calm me, center me, make me feel grounded. But nowadays, I just found myself… bored when I was on the mat. But I stuck to it, pretending like it was still my whole personality.

Because if there was one thing I hated about myself, it was how I never seemed to be able to stick to anything for long.

The joke with my family was that I had a shallow knowledge of everything, but a deep understanding of nothing. The truth was that not many things could hold my interest for long. Once I mastered a physical activity or hobby, I was immediately ready to move on.

About the only constant in my life was my desire to move.

Staying in one place for too long made me feel like I was suffocating.

Ever dedicated to my façade, I rolled onto my stomach and pressed up into a downward dog, but I watched Jaxson instead of my mat.

Holy. Hell.

I was pretty sure he had every fucking plate on that leg press when he finally sat down. He placed his feet shoulder-width apart on the platform and unlocked the machine, and then easily pushed ten reps before locking it again.

No wonder he had an ass of stone and quads to match.

In one breath, I brought my left leg up by my shoulder, dropping my foot next to my hands before windmilling up into warrior two. I tried to flow, giving it all my effort for about six minutes.

But all the while, my attention was glued to my friend and the way his body rippled with every rep.

Fuck it.

Letting my hands fall against my thighs with a slap, I abandoned my mat and marched right over to him, plucking a headphone off his left ear.

“I want to lift with you.”

Jaxson arched a brow. “Well, good morning to you, too. How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” I lied.

His snort told me he knew it was a lie, but he didn’t call me out on it. Instead, he wiped down the leg press that he was done with and mopped his face with a towel. “You want to lift, huh?”

“Yep.”

“This is a lot different than yoga, you know.”

“Don’t box me in, Brittzy,” I said, narrowing my eyes, but already I was smiling with the excitement I always felt when I was about to try something new.

He rolled his lips together against a grin, and then shrugged, gesturing toward the free weights. “Ever done RDLs?”

“Rapid Dick Licks?”

He nearly choked on the water he was taking a swig of as I skipped ahead of him over to the bench.

“Nah, I’m more of a take it slow kind of gal. You know, really swirl the tongue, use both hands, pretend like I have nowhere else in the world to be.”

Jaxson let out a groan of an exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are a menace.”

“To society, or to your mental health?”

“Both.”

“Why, thank you,” I said, and then I hung my hands on my hips. “Alright. Rapid Dick Licks. Let’s do this.”

I wasn’t sure Jaxson accomplished much with me in the forty-five minutes he attempted to train me, but I was certain we both got one hell of an ab workout from how much we laughed. I was thankful there wasn’t any sort of awkward tension hanging between us after I blatantly crossed our boundary line last night, and Jaxson — bless him — didn’t call me out on it, either.

It made me cringe if I thought too hard about it, how he had to put his teammate’s drunk little sister to bed while she tried to tear his clothes off.

Slowly, my headache began to fade, my stomach feeling more stable. I also started to get the hang of each exercise he showed me, and I liked the way it felt to push myself, to try something new and feel the way that burned my body in unfamiliar ways.

I was lifting approximately one percent of the weight he was, but still.

On my third and final set of bicep curls, Jaxson’s phone buzzed on the bench where he’d left it. When he slid his thumb across the screen, tension furrowed his brows, and he let out a heavy sigh before texting something in return.

He all but threw his phone back onto the bench.

“Let me guess,” I said, re-racking the weights and nodding toward his phone. “You got some girl pregnant.”

It was a joke, and apparently a bad one, because Jaxson’s smile was weak at best as he cracked his neck.

“Honestly, that might have been a better text.”

Well, shit.

“Who was it?”

“My dad.”

Through the haze of last night, I remembered me asking him about his parents, but we’d been interrupted before he could say much.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He let out another long sigh. “Oh, fine. He was just reviewing film from our loss against Toronto that put us out of the playoff run and had some…” His jaw tensed. “Thoughts to share.”

I blinked. “Wasn’t that game months ago?”

“Indeed, it was.”

He didn’t elaborate. Instead, he jumped up to grab the bar that connected the two resistance machines in the middle of the gym. He repped out ten pull ups, exhaling little puffs of air at the top that told me he knew exactly how to breathe to best facilitate the movement that exercise required.

I hated that he changed the subject so quickly, but at the same time, I respected that distance he was silently asking me for. As someone who fucking hated getting into my sads, I understood that feeling of wanting a topic of conversation dropped.

So, I shoved down all my burning questions and skipped over to the bar just as his feet hit the ground.

“Me next!” I said, and I reached my hands up before jumping with all my might.

And I didn’t even touch the bar.

My hands fell to my thighs and I pouted, looking up at the bar and then at Jaxson.

He smirked, shaking his head and nodding toward the bar. “Alright, little Nova. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

His hands found my waist then, and he lifted me like I weighed nothing — just like he had the night before. I couldn’t fight back my smile as I found the height necessary to grab the bar, and once he was sure I had a good grip, Jaxson let go.

“Okay. Now what?”

He chuckled from behind me. “Engage your back, tighten your core, and lift yourself up.”

I nodded with determination, sticking my tongue out a little as I attempted what he’d said.

And barely budged.

I laughed hysterically, letting my body fall limp as I held onto the bar. “Nailed it!”

Jaxson laughed, too, but then his hands were on me, and suddenly laughing was the furthest thing from my mind.

His hands were massive where they enveloped my rib cage, and he held most of my weight as he moved in close behind me.

“You want to think about lifting through here,” he said, running his fingertips along my lats. I knew without looking to confirm that a wave of goosebumps had erupted at his touch. “And here,” he added, ghosting those fingers over my deltoids and rhomboids.

And just when I thought I was safe from passing away at the feel of his warm hands on me, he wrapped them around my waist, one holding fast to my hip as the other splayed my stomach.

“Breathe,” he encouraged — as if that was easy with him touching me. “And tighten your core. Use the energy here.”

His touch lingered for a long pause before he pulled away, and I let out a shaky breath before feeling that determination sink back in.

With a grunt, I focused on all the areas he’d pointed out, using that sexual energy stirring in my gut to help propel me. I managed to lift myself halfway, and then I kicked my feet, tilting my chin up as if that would help it sail over the bar.

When I failed, I dropped limp again, hanging like a little kid from the monkey bars.

“I suck.”

Jaxson chuckled. “No, you’ve just never attempted a pull-up before. These take a lot of strength. Here, let me help you so you can feel the proper form.”

I waited for him to grab my waist again, but instead, he jumped, his hands finding the bar on either side of mine.

And that, of course, brought him flush against me — his chest to my back, our bodies in a tight-fitted seam.

Oh. My. Fucking. Fuck.

Heat rushed through me, from the point where his breath skated over my neck to where his massive biceps caged me in. He smelled like leather and fresh-cut cedar, the scent invading my senses and scrambling my brain just as much as his touch did.

“Oh, come on, Nova,” he teased, lifting himself a little so his voice rumbled right behind the shell of my ear. “What was it you said to me that night in Austin? Don’t look so scared.”

My eyelids fluttered shut, heart racing like I was doing cardio instead of weight training. Because that little jest, those four little words… they answered my question.

He did think about that night.

I swallowed, ready to drop from this bar and climb him like a tree, instead. But before I could, he wrapped his massive, watermelon-busting thighs around my waist, and pulled us both up.

“Oh, my God,” I squealed. “You are a freak of nature!”

“Lift with your core,” he said, but we both knew I wasn’t doing any of the work as he powered us up for another rep. Instead, I just laughed, feeling like a little kid on a ride at the fair. I was weightless in his grip, but I felt every inch of his hard muscle where it pressed against me, and I was all too aware of a particular muscle nestled conveniently against my ass.

Being the brat that I was, I arched that ass just a little bit, enough to drag the length of him in a slow, imperceptible movement.

Or maybe it wasn’t that imperceptible, because Jaxson let out a breath of a curse, and then he dropped to the ground, all contact broken.

I dropped, too, surveying my hands where they were red from holding onto the bar.

“Ouch,” I said, shaking them out. “I can see why calluses are helpful.”

I looked up at Jaxson with what I hoped was innocence, but the way he shook his head told me he saw right through the act.

“Menace,” he said.

I grinned.

We wiped down the machines and weights in silence before gathering our belongings, and Jaxson held the door for me to exit the gym.

“Wait!” I said, scrambling for my phone while Jaxson rushed toward me like I was hurt. When he saw me peel my phone out from where I’d tucked it in the back of my shorts, his shoulders relaxed a little. I held it up between us with a little wiggle before unlocking it. “Video time.”

I grabbed his arm and lugged him over to the full-body mirrors lining the wall, positioning him halfway behind me before I started the video.

“Today, Jaxson Brittain taught me how to do a pull-up.” I used my fingers to zoom in on where Jaxson stood behind me with one brow in his hairline and both arms folded over his chest. “Jaxson, tell me something good.”

“Well, it’s damn sure not your form.”

I elbowed him, the video going shaky with the movement as he chuffed out a laugh. Then, he rested his elbow on my shoulder and leaned on me like a crutch.

“We made a lot of money for the team shop last night.”

I threw a fist in the air. “Fuck yeah, we did. Just call me the Quarters Queen.”

I did a little curtsy with that, and Jaxson shook his head, throwing his towel over his shoulder and heading toward the door.

“Nah,” he said, and I was glad the video was still rolling when he added, “You’ll always be Nova to me.”