SIN-BIN: An Enemies To Lovers College Hockey Romance (Sinners on the Ice)

COLTON

“Do you see what I see?” Clay’s voice is full of amazement. He asks without even looking at me. His gaze is focused on the girl, and a smug smile illuminates his face. He tried to flirt with her last night, asking for her name and promising to figure it out on his own when she refused to tell him.

“Hey, Clay,” Layla murmurs, leaning in and giving my best friend a quick hug. Then she whirls to me, beaming. She’s a beautiful girl with the whole package: great ass, round hips, big boobs, and a narrow waist. Her eyes shift to my face, lingering on my mouth. Once I helped her to her room because she was totally wasted, and she tried to kiss me. I didn’t tell anyone about it. The last thing I need is her brother on my back. “Hey hey, Colton.”

“Hey.” Her fruity scent envelops me as she hugs me way longer than she did Clay. She pushes boundaries, and I don’t like it. I’m friends with her brother, but that doesn’t mean I’m friends with her.

“Are you going to introduce us to your friend?” Clay looks between Layla and the freshman.

Benson’s sister steps back and wraps her arm around her friend’s waist. Does she know what happened yesterday? I hope the freshman kept silent about the slap, for her own sake.

“Looks like you already know everything,” she exclaims cheerfully, sneaking a glance at Drake. “My big brother told you about my bestie, didn’t he?”

“I did.” Drake is pleased with himself, smiling at his sister and her friend. Did I read his previous reaction all wrong? I frown, keeping my eyes on my teammate. Anything is better than looking at that fucking girl.

“Well, a little introduction won’t hurt, right?” Layla chimes. “Even if you already met.”

“Meaning?” her brother asks, furrowing his brow.

“It’s not the first time I’ve met your sister’s best friend.” Clay’s eyes travel down her body. “This beauty refused to tell me her name. Right, Ava?”

“Circumstances, you know?” The girl smirks, and my best friend snorts. He’s loving their interaction, how she responds to him, while I feel annoyance spilling into my veins. “I didn’t think it was appropriate.”

“Why?” Drake asks, locking eyes with her.

At that second, it hits me. I’m so right. It gives me an ace up my sleeve, because I’m one hundred percent sure Layla doesn’t have a clue about her brother and her best friend. My body warms up, and I almost grin from satisfaction. You chose the wrong guy to piss off, girl.

“Does it matter?” She tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes on Benson.

“Nope,” he utters, taking a sip of his beer.

“Ahem, so, Clay, Colton, this is Ava. She’s my best friend in the whole world.” Layla looks at Clay and me then back. “Be nice. She’s precious.”

“And gorgeous,” Clay purrs. I wonder how long it will take Drake to put him in his place. With how his grip on his bottle tightens, I’m not sure he has enough patience. “Say, Ava, can I get you a drink?”

“Rodgers,” Drake warns, and I almost feel pity for him. Almost. No matter what I think about her, it’s not fair of him to forbid guys on the team from pursuing her…until he stakes his claim, that is. “Wasn’t I clear?”

“Oh, come on.” Layla whimpers. “Don’t tell me you’re extending your rules to Ava too.”

“What if I am?” Benson stares at his sister, unbothered. She sucks in air, her eyes widening.

“What’s going on?” The girl fiddles with her earring, looking between the Benson siblings.

“You’re off-limits to the hockey team, love,” Clay states. “Drake’s rules.”

The girl blinks, and her mouth forms a little O. Her reaction makes me curious. She doesn’t come across as the disobedient type. She’s a good girl who tries hard to make everyone believe she’s a rebel. It’s obvious.

She takes a deep breath and turns to face her best friend. “I want to dance.”

“Um…oh, well, let’s go dance then.” Layla takes her hand, and a second later they both disappear from view.

“Looks like you’re free to do whatever you want.” Clay claps Benson on his back. “Your babysitting hours are over.”

“You don’t know her.” Drake shakes his head, then he runs his palm over his face. “I pissed her off.”

“And?”

“And I better go and find more beer.” Benson sneers and marches away from us.

“I have no idea what the hell is going on there.” Rodgers lines up with me, staring at Drake’s back, which is moving farther and farther away. “You?”

“We’ll see if I’m right.”

“Not going to share your thoughts with me? Your best friend?” Clay complains loudly, barely hiding his smile.

“No.”

“As always.” He looks around. “I honestly thought you would kick her out of the house. You were fuming yesterday, so I was sure you were going to flip and send her packing. It’s strange that I was wrong.”

“There is still time.” I have something more damaging for her than just kicking her out of the party. But only if I’m right, of course.

“Let’s find the others. They should be outside,” Clay suggests, and I nod in agreement. I am here to have fun. As long as that girl stays out of my sight, I’m good. I think.

We ran out of beer, and I volunteered to go get more. Not because I want to get drunk, but because I’m the soberest among my crew. I’m not even sure Clay saw me leave. For the past thirty minutes, he has been too busy shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat. Probably another freshman, since I have never seen her on campus before. Well, we all have bad habits, right? Weaknesses. My best friend has a soft spot for girls, thinking he’s too young to settle down and date just one person. He hasn’t had a girlfriend since we were freshmen, and he’s fine like that. Just like I am.

On my way to the kitchen, I notice Benson. His lips are stretched into a thin line, and his brows are knit together, while his arms are folded across his chest. I walk straight up to him and stop by his side, following his line of sight.

Layla is dancing with some dude. He has his hands plastered to her hips, moving along with her as she grinds her ass over his groin. If I were Benson, I would probably want to kill the guy too. Or just punch him in the face. Either way, I have no idea how he’s dealing with his sister’s behavior.

“Are you planning his murder?” I ask, and Drake spins to look at me. “I can lend you a hand, if you want it.”

“No,” he laughs. “Just observing.”

“The way I see it, Layla is having fun,” I say as his sister gyrates and wraps her arms around the guy’s neck.

“Nothing unusual. She hangs out with Trey sometimes.” I meet his gaze, and I see a smile playing on his lips. “I know the guy.”

“Looking at you, I thought you were planning the best way to kill him,” I remark, and Benson only shakes his head.

“Definitely not.” He sighs and then adds, “I wasn’t even looking at her.”

“No?” I frown, watching the crowd with more attentiveness, and a moment later I know what he means. The freshman is dancing near Layla. She’s on some kind of pedestal, so it’s easy to follow her every move. Her very sexy moves.

I shake my head, trying to clear that stupid thought from my mind. She’s not sexy. At all. Yet my body begs to differ. I let my eyes wander all over her, feeling like my veins are ready to blow up from the heat forming in my abdomen. Shit.

Looking away, I grit my teeth. This girl is playing on my nerves. I want her gone. “Is the best friend a problem?” My voice sounds husky, and I clear my throat.

“Not really,” Drake replies, but it doesn’t mean anything. I’m not going to listen to him anymore. I’m kicking her out. Now.

As I barrel through the crowd of people, I keep my eyes on her, and it’s a total mistake. The closer I get, the hotter I feel. My freaking dick is getting excited just looking at her; hardness pokes through my jeans. Yeah, so much for not being a horny stud. I can’t help how I feel. The girl has a perfect body, flawless and feminine with full breasts. She’s wearing a crop top, and the sight of her flat stomach draws me in like a magnet. Her round hips look nice in that little skirt.

She’s stunning.

Wow, wow, wow. I’m definitely off my game. She’s stunning? What the fuck am I thinking? Jesus, with thoughts like that, I might as well ask Coach to kick me off the team so I can go apply for the school’s first-string quarterback position. It’s absurd.

I frown, stopping right in front of her. Apparently, she’s standing on a little coffee table. “Get off the table.” I yell, trying to catch her attention through the music. She doesn’t seem to hear me or even notice me. She’s totally in her element. Her eyes are half-closed as she continues to sway to the music. I grab her palm roughly, and she tenses. Her eyes open, and her pupils dilate. “Get off the table.”

The girl snatches her palm away; her face contorts in anger. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Is she fucking serious?

“No means no,” she retorts, ready to turn away from me. I take my phone out of my pocket and launch my camera. She quirks an eyebrow at me. “What are you doing?”

“Get off the table. Now.” Our exchange has put us on center stage, and I can feel people’s eyes on my back. I need to end this fucking charade once and for all.

Just at that moment, the song changes to “hot girl bummer” by blackbear. The girl freezes for a second, but then her full lips stretch into a smile. She bends down a little, looking me in the eyes. I know what she’s going to do, and I wish she would change her mind. There are consequences, and she won’t like them.

Fuck you, she lip-synchs, showing me two middle fingers.

Some people around us start laughing, and it honestly triggers me. Instead of doing as I say, she puts on a show. Well, be ready to be humiliated then.

I hide my phone in my back pocket and wind my hands around her waist. Her eyes become as wide as saucers as I lift her into the air. When I put her down on the ground, her hand lands on my chest as she tries to steady herself. We stare at each other in silence for a good minute. Her skin is smooth and soft under my calloused palms. Her chest rises and falls, the goosebumps visible on her exposed stomach. Up close, her eyes look emerald green, framed by thick black eyelashes. She has a birthmark on her right cheek, and I almost smile staring at it.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder. Wheeling around, I trudge straight to the front door. My palm rests on her ass, keeping her skirt down.

She wiggles; her knuckles hit my back. “Put me down.”

I smile, ignoring her miserable attempts to stop me. I am actually enjoying this situation, her frustration. I’m not sure she will want to go to another party anytime soon.

I open the door, take a step outside, and put her down again. She’s fuming. Her cheeks are red, and her long brown hair falls over her face. She blows it away, tucking strands behind her ears. My eyes linger on her mouth for a moment longer than they should. Shaking my head, I take a step back.

“You wouldn’t dare…” she whispers.

I don’t care; you brought this on yourself.

“Bye.” With that, I close the door in her stunned face. Then I turn around and head to the kitchen. It’s time to get back to the guys, maybe even let loose a little. I deserve it.

“Thompson.” Drake growls, stomping in my direction. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“Because.” I stare at him defiantly. It’s the first time I’ve gone against my captain since we started playing for the same team.

“You just kicked out my sister’s friend. Humiliated her in front of all these people. Didn’t I make it clear she was with me? Under my protection?” He raises his voice, his eyes staring daggers at me.

“Sorry, Drake. This time, I’m not going to do what you say. That girl doesn’t belong here.”

“For fuck’s sake.” He throws his hands in the air. “She was drinking. It’s only her second week here, and she doesn’t know her way around. What if someone comes after her? Tries to force themselves on her? Did you think about that before you kicked her out?”

“I…” Those thoughts hadn’t even crossed my mind, and I hate to admit he could be right.

“I…” he mimics me, and I glare at him. “You’re an ass. A real spoiled ass.”

Drake storms past me, bumping into my shoulder on his way to the front door. He opens it and moves to leave. The question burns the tip of my tongue, and I go for it, even if it’s shitty of me. I want to test my theory. “Does your sister know you fucked her best friend?”

“Fuck off, Thompson,” Benson hisses, slamming the door behind him. I stare at it for a few seconds, thoughts swirling in my head. I was right about them, his answer didn’t leave me any doubts. Strangely? I don’t feel excited anymore.

I take my phone out of my back pocket and frown. What the fuck?

Apparently, she must have grabbed it. I guess I hadn’t locked it when I shoved it in my pocket before carrying her out. The girl left a message for me. I stare at the screen for a few seconds. Then I burst out laughing, squeeze it back into my jeans, and make a beeline for the kitchen. It’s time to bring the guys the beer I promised.

Her silly text is on my mind. Duck you. Autocorrect changed her message, making it completely opposite from what she intended it to be. She’s funny though.

I exhale through my nostrils, getting rid of those thoughts. I’ve wasted enough time on this freshman. I’m not going to let her ruin yet another night for me. I need to find a hookup. My hard-on has me acting irrational and stupid. I need to get laid.