Her lips slide into a half-smirk. “What if I get needy a lot, Wes?”
Fucking hell. The thought of her coming to me—and only me—to take care of her needs short-circuits my brain, but I fight to keep my expression neutral. “Don’t worry, Covington, I’ll manage.”
Isla bites her lip, hesitating before she finally says, “We should keep this to ourselves, right?” She fiddles with the ring on her right pointer finger, spinning it in circles. “It’s no one’s business what we do.”
“Probably best,” I agree, fighting the instinct to announce it to everyone.Stay the fuck away from her. She feels like mine, even though I know it’s the furthest thing from the truth.
I rise from the couch to zip up my fly and realize the denim is wet and sticky. I glance down at the damage, but even after I grab some tissues to blot at the mess, it’s so bad that I don’t know if I can escape this bar without anyone noticing. Isla stifles a laugh with her hand.
“You can have my sweater,” she offers with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“I’ll pass.”
She stands up, facing me. “You’re going to leave like that?”
“Worried I’ll upset yourdate?”
Isla rolls her eyes. “He’s not my date.”
“You walked in together.” I clench my teeth, my jaw tightening to the point of pain.
“Because he got here the same time as me.” She steps forward, reaching for my chin with one hand, an arrogant half-smile still in place. “I wondered how long your recovery time would be. Looks like you’re already back to your grumpy self. I need to try harder next time.”
My hand lands on hers, sliding it from my face and holding it in mine. “I think that next time you won’t have the energy to run your mouth. How’s that sound?”
“Don’t overpromise and underdeliver.”
“I never do.”
She pulls her sweater on, running her hands over her forearms. “We’ll see.”
I don’t want her to leave. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her to come home with me, but I know better than to make a fool out of myself. I’ve gotten more attached to another person than they were to me before and I promised myself I’d never make that mistake again. And certainly not with Isla Covington, who’s only giving me the time of day because I’m her boss, her partner’s brother, and now, the man willing to fulfill her sexual needs.
Nothing more.
Chapter 17
Isla
Mystomachtanglesinknots on the drive over to the rink, thoughts of last night with Wes replaying in my mind.
That was the hottest sexual experience of my life, and now I don’t know how to act around him. It’s not like our relationship has changed. He’s still my boss and my partner’s brother, the man who aggravates me like no other. But instead of avoiding those unwanted, lusty feelings for him, I can work them out with him.
If I dare.
I heave a sigh of relief when my rideshare pulls into the empty parking lot without a Ford pickup truck in sight. Spencer and I warm up on-ice, and my brain starts to quiet as it always does.
That is, until Spence opens his mouth. “I heard my brother whistling this morning.”
His words catch me off guard, causing me to stumble out of my forward crossover. My head swivels around the arena as if Wes might pop up from somewhere in the stands.
Spencer’s eyebrow raises, and his lips twist into a smile at whatever he sees in my expression.
I lock it down, attempting to project boredom instead. “Should I alert the press?”
He glides toward me. “Yeah, Wes doesn't whistle.”
“Good for him for finally learning, I guess.”
