Felicity

I leap out of bed Friday morning already knowing I’m running late. My door’s half-open again—seriously, Gammy’s ghost?—and Loki’s sitting in the opening like he’s been watching me sleep. I wonder how much popcorn I have in my hair.

And then I think more about last night, about popcorn and hockey and Ares, and I wonder if Ares ever masturbates.

Also, it’s now not even two minutes after I woke up, and I’m thinking about masturbating.

Thanks, Loki. Little cockblocking monkey who ruined that amazing kiss.

He chirps like he heard my thoughts.

I dash out my door—without hitting it this time—and as I hit the hallway, Ares steps out of the bathroom two steps away.

Wet.

And very happy to see me, which the small pink towel wrapped his waist can’t hide, nor can his fist, holding the towel together.

His left thigh isn’t completely covered, a solid mass of muscle thick and powerful, just like the rest of him. His tattoo peeks out from above the towel, the swirling vortex of a Milky Way sunset.

I want to lick it.

Our gazes lock, and I realize, once again, I’m in nothing but panties and a tank top.

Pink lace panties.

White tank top.

A muscle ticks in his jaw. His eyes have gone midnight blue, and his lips part while his gaze drifts down my body.

My thighs clench. My breasts tingle. If I don’t kiss him, I’m going to combust.

“Bad idea,” he says, but his eyes are stuck on my panties, which are basically going up in flames under that intense scrutiny.

“I love bad ideas,” I whisper.

I take a step toward him.

He doesn’t back away, but his gaze flicks up to meet mine.

Stop, it says.

I suck in an unsteady breath.

Because that same look is also saying touch me.

And lick me.

And bite me.

And fuck me.

And I don’t know if it’s a fuck me, I’m screwed, or a please fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.

Probably both.

The door bangs downstairs, and we leap apart.

“Hey, dog breath,” my brother yells, “get your ass up. You too, Ares. Need you at the Arena.”

I dive back into Gammy’s bedroom. Ares limps down the hall.

“You’re both up?” Nick’s voice gets closer. “Fuck, ruining all my fun.”

I trip over myself getting into a pair of pajama pants. “Some of us work normal human hours,” I call.

Loki screeches.

“Hey, monkey dude. Fist bump? You’re pretty cool, aren’t you?”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I add. The team would’ve flown home from Arizona overnight, which means he’s probably coming straight from the airport.

“Slept on the—what the fuck?” He steps into Gammy’s room and grabs me by the chin. “Who did this? Who fucking punched you? I’m gonna kill him. Berger!”

I leap after him and tackle him, but because he’s impossible, he keeps walking.

It’s a struggle—I’m yanking his ear too—but he keeps going.

Ares opens his door in nothing but black boxer briefs and gives Nick—who’s six inches shorter—a try me look.

“You were supposed to—oww! Fuck, Felicity, let go!”

Yeah, there’s the pressure point.

“Gammy’s ghost did it, you pain in the ass. I’m fine.”

Nick looks between me and Ares, who’s testing the limits of stretchability in his boxer briefs.

Ares doesn’t look any happier about the situation than his underwear does.

“Gammy’s ghost gave you a black eye,” Nick repeats, his sarcasm bordering on insulting, but not quite there because he’s not a total idiot and he knows not to disrespect Gammy’s ghost in her own house.

“Yep.”

He eyes me.

Looks back at Ares, who shivers.

“What?” I say.

Ares presses his lips together.

But there’s something in his eyes.

“You saw Gammy’s ghost?” I whisper.

His eyes narrow. “Move.”

“I’m not moving. I have one week left at the rehab clinic, and I go straight into a rotation at Copper Valley General. I don’t have time to move.”

“Plus she loses stuff every time she moves,” Lucy offers, “and then she has to take more time to go shopping, and Maren will give her a big lecture about being kind to the environment.”

“Yeah, and she left me behind last time,” Harold agrees.

“Would you two kindly remember that it’s not even eight in the morning and let a goat sleep?” Tim chimes in.

Nick clamps a hand over my mouth. “We’re selling this place. You’re moving in with me.”

“Don’t make me pluck out your armpit hairs,” I reply, which he understands perfectly despite his hand covering my mouth.

Ares’s mouth tilts in half a grin.

“You have my permission to do that to him in the locker room next time he’s on the massage table,” I add.

“Berger. Get dressed. We’ll talk about Felicity later. Need you to talk to the rookie. Kid’s having a problem.”

He grunts and looks at me.

“Me?” I say. “I’m not talking to your rookie.”

“Felicity can’t talk to Jaeger,” Nick agrees. “First, he’ll try to get into her pants. Second, he won’t take her seriously because she’s a girl. And third—”

Ares cuts him off with another grunt.

“Yeah,” I agree, “sounds like the fucker does need his head put on straight.”

Loki makes his cute little monkey sound that makes me almost forgive him for watching me sleep like a little perv.

Not that I can talk.

I nearly tried to dry hump Ares while Loki was sitting on him last night.

“I have clinicals,” I tell my brother.

Nick grins.

I hate that grin.

It’s his I’ll get you out of it because I’m Nick Fucking Murphy and I get whatever the fuck I want.

“Loki, sic him,” I say.

Loki pulls Gammy’s sugar bowl from behind his back and tosses it at Nick, who shrieks and dives to catch it before it breaks.

“Dude,” he says to the monkey, “don’t piss off Gammy’s ghost.”

Loki laughs.

Ares shakes his head and shuts himself in the guest bedroom.

And I’m left in the hallway with my brother and a monkey.

“You’re not hitting on Berger, are you?” he growls.

“Of course I am,” I answer. “Just to piss you off.”

He scowls.

I scowl back.

Loki laughs again and dangles the Wayne Gretzky bobble head for both of us to see.

“Oh, shit,” Nick mutters.

“You’re the one who brought the monkey.”

And because I have clinicals this morning, I turn and sashay like a boss down the hall and into Gammy’s room.

Where I trip over my own two feet and fall.

At least the bed catches me this time.

Ares might be right.

It’s probably time to move.