Off the Ice(3)

“There is no doubt in my mind that you will do whatever you want, Presley.” I clutch her hips, trying to keep my hands in place for the moment, but the pure need to run these hands all over her is getting to me. “I can only hope you will consider what you wearing this in public will do to me.”

Presley smiles mischievously, coming forward a little to rest her ass over the exact spot my pants bulge. “I know exactly what wearing this does to you, Levi, and I can only imagine the effect it will have on you when I wear it in public where you can’t so obviously touch me.”

I chuckle. “Don’t tease me, Smarty.” I grant my hands permission to leave her hips, dragging them up her back, over her shoulders, down her breasts and to her stomach. I slide my hands over the top of her thighs, but drop them to the inside on my venture back up. My eyes stay on Presley’s watching her reaction unfold before me. When I reach the top of her thighs, I take my hands up her back, pulling the string of her top with one hand until it comes undone and the other running underneath her hair to her neck.

She comes easily, kissing me softly. Her lips part and her tongue roughly searches for mine, making me groan. A knock on the door rips her away from me. Who the hell is here? Presley seems surprised as well as she leaves me to go answer the door.

“I’ll get it,” I say hurriedly, getting up and passing her. “Tie your top, Smarty, and go put your clothes back on.” Whoever it is, they don’t need to see her in a bathing suit, much less one that is about to fall off her. After I make sure that’s what she’s going to do, I open the door, blocking any view one may have of the inside.

Glaring, I find a dorky looking, short guy wearing glasses, a plaid long sleeve shirt, and jeans. My towering size doesn’t seem to intimidate him at all and it pisses me off just a little.

“May I help you?” I ask.

“I’m looking for Presley.”

Who the hell is this guy? He’s definitely not a hockey player and I’ve never seen him before yet here he is, asking for my girlfriend. Before I can answer, Presley squeals, pushes past me, and jumps into the guy’s arms.

“Zack! Oh my God! How are you?”

“You didn’t forget about me, did you?” He smiles at her.

“Of course not! How could I forget about you? How was it? I want to know all the details!”

I clear my throat before he can speak, making Presley aware of my presence.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Levi.” Presley turns back to the guy and says, “Zack, this is my boyfriend, Levi Carr. Levi, this is my friend Zack Jones. He spent last semester studying abroad and the jackass is just now getting around to coming to see me!” She slaps his arm, much like she has done to me many times before and laughs.

Zack sticks his hand out and I shake it. “Nice to meet you,” I lie. Couldn’t the little fucker pick a better time to stop by besides the time where I’m about to fuck my girlfriend? My girlfriend who is wearing a tiny bikini underneath those sweats, and I can’t haul her to the bedroom because of him.

As if sensing my displeasure with him, Zack looks to her and asks, “Pres, is it a bad time?”

“Yes,” I say at the same time Presley says, “Of course not.” She cuts a glare at me, and I smirk back. C’mon, Smarty, I silently beg, make him come back later.

“We were just hanging out, Zack. Come in and you can tell us all about your trip!”

“It’s alright, Pres. We’ll have lunch tomorrow, okay?”

“Zack, it’s fine.”

“I’ll text you,” he says in a decline to her offer. Maybe it’s just because of the confident vibe he gives off with his hand on Presley’s back or maybe it’s the kiss he places on her cheek before he leaves, but I don’t like him.

“Who is he exactly?” I ask once we’re back on the couch, but Presley is sitting beside me and not in my lap, her milkshake and bikini forgotten. For her anyway.

“He was a friend of Trevor’s before he moved away with Dad. After Trev left, Zack would keep an eye on me and study with me. He’s a good friend of mine, Marley’s, and Trevor’s.”

“Did you date him?” I ask flatly, not liking the thought of an ex hanging around.

Once her surprise disappears, she drills me. “Levi Carr, please tell me you are not one of those jealous ‘You can’t hang out with any other guys’ jackasses. We’re just friends.”

Chuckling, I take her hand to tug her into my lap. “No, Smarty. I’m not. You can hang out with all the guys you want. I was just trying to figure out who he is to you. You’ve never mentioned him before,” I say softly.