Chapter 13 Archangel
THIRTEEN
ARCHANGEL
The only solution after whatever that was in the shower is to get plastered. Wolfe is in his element, acting like the master of ceremonies. His smug ass father shows his face as well.
Thankfully, Coach Hawke stays away this year. Maybe because we moved the weekend, but Cox is here, so he’s got to know something. Last I heard, they basically lived together, so for Cox to still be out at this hour, Hawke has to know something.
Wolfe comes up next to me and knocks his shoulder into mine.
“What’s up?”
“My dad said we have to get things wrapped up as the chatter online is picking up.” Wolfe must already have told the guys, as they are breaking down our makeshift maze and the platform we use for the “adoption” drunk paintball shooting we do at the freshmen.
There are guys we’ve hired to help, as most of the freshmen are too drunk to do anything properly.
“He’s monitoring online chatter?”
“I mean, he’s not doing it, but he has guys who do it. They watch all that shit.” Wolfe’s slurring his words a bit, which is a feat because he can drink a lot without showing it. “He’s also watching Coach Hawke this year. They got an officer on his place.” Wolfe laughs.
I roll my eyes. “He didn’t like the coach calling him out, did he?”
“Not so much. Said he was overstepping because it wasn’t on the campus. You know how law enforcement doesn’t like to be called out.” He chews on his lip the way he does, like he’s about to say something he’s not sure if I’ll like.
“Out with it.” I curl two fingers.
“Instead of going out, the guys are gonna come over…” he makes a face but ends up smiling.
“And?” I prompt when he doesn’t speak.
“I’m sure it will turn into more than the team.”
There it is.
“How is that different from the other times you invite the team over?” Since our place is pretty close to campus and larger than most other apartments and dorms, it has become the unofficial team hangout spot for the last two years.
He looks at me with his big dark eyes, and I hate that I’d probably do whatever he asked.
“What is it, big guy?”
Wolfe steps forward, leaning in until his forehead is nearly touching mine. “We haven’t talked since—” He frowns. “You know, since we’ve been home, about how we are handling it.”
“Handling what?” I don’t like where this is going. “If you’re backing out—”
Wolfe slaps a hand over my mouth, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare. I haven’t backed out on a thing.” He drops his voice as low as he can get it, which, for his size, is still too loud to be having this conversation in public. “I mean about what I’m telling the puck bunnies and the team.”
Okay, I’m a dick.
I wait for him to remove his hand, but he doesn’t, so I lick it.
Wolfe’s lips curls as he pulls his hand back and then to my surprise he sticks it in his pants with a wink.
I fucking groan unable to look away. The mental image now crystal clear after seeing his cock. It’s so easy to imagine his tattooed hand on his dick.
My mouth hangs open as he strokes himself a few times making it clear what he’s doing.
“Fucking Christ.” I know I’m getting pink, and I just hope he can’t see it in the dark. “What are you saying?” My head is foggy, and I can’t think straight.
“Do you want me to tell the guys I’m seeing someone? Because if I’m suddenly not interested in the puck bunnies, they’ll notice.” He’s got a point.
“What do you want to do?”
Wolfe thinks about it for a long moment. “I’m just going to leave it until it blows up.”
I cringe, and I don’t even mean to. It didn’t even occur to me that the guys would notice.
Wolfe searches my face, clearly reading into my reaction.
“I guess you’re going to have to, but you know they won’t leave you alone until you come out with why.”
“I’ll deal as long as I need to and just make shit up. I’m a goalie. I can get away with it.” He would make up some reason to have sworn off sex.
“Ain’t that the truth? You guys are weird.”
He opens his arms. “Can I have a hug?”
I step into his arms and lean into it. Wolfe does give the best hugs.
“Guys, are we ready to head out?” Seaborn asks.
We break apart, and Wolfe gives a double thumbs-up.
Our apartment doesn’t get as wild as other nights, thankfully, but with a much smaller crowd, bad decisions are made. Somehow, we end up in the library in a smallish group, playing strip poker. There’s four girls, me, Wolfe, and Savage, Solace, and Lovelace.
Wolfe materialized a fucking cigar (not lit) and some big ass glasses which he’s claiming help no one watch his eyes. He’s down to just socks and boxers that leave so very little to the imagination, so the glasses can’t be doing much to help him win.
I throw down a straight flush and smirk because I’m still in my jeans.
“Well, I’m fucked.” Savage stands up and shoves his pants off.
The rest go around laying their hands down and removing various pieces of clothing.
One of the girls pulls off her top to reveal nothing under it, and a couple of the guys cheer her on.
She turns toward Wolfe, and I glance at him, expecting him to be looking at her, but he’s not.
He’s looking right at me, with the stupid glasses pushed down so I can tell.
I smile, cheeks getting a bit pink.
“Wolfe,” the girl says when he doesn’t even glance her way.
“What’s up?” he asks, eyes staying on me.
She huffs and sits down, clearly pouting.
I can’t help but grin wider.
“I think it’s time we teamed up against Archangel.” Wolfe pushes his glasses back into place as he picks up the cards to deal.
I roll my eyes. “Not my fault my grandad taught me to play.”
Wolfe and I both lose the next round, and he stands, putting his foot on the table to suggestively pull a sock down, which of course the women eat up.
“Two can play at that game.” I pull up one of my pant legs to take off a sock, too.
“Fuck no! Pants first.” Wolfe wags his finger at me.
“Why?” I ask playfully.
“Because fair is fair! Right?” He glances around to get the support of everyone else. They take up his point, agreeing with him.
I slide my hand up my leg, stopping at my button, and pause.
His eyes are still on me, and it almost feels like we are the only two people in the world.
I pop the button to cheers, but not from Wolfe.
He’s silent, but his attention is fixed.
I slide my zipper down, taking my time revealing the Lycra briefs I’m in.
Wolfe holds my gaze for what feels like an eternity, but finally he slowly drops it as I push my jeans off. Warmth spreads through my chest, and I shouldn’t read into this. But I want it so badly.
They gang up on me in the next round, too, and I know I’m losing, but he is, too, and he’s down to just boxers. When the cards are revealed, I stand up and tuck my fingers into my briefs, even though I have another sock.
Wolfe cocks his head in a silent question. I tug one side down with my thumb. His lip curls, but he swallows back the sound.
“I guess I have to take this off,” I say to a silent room.
Wolfe stands, and I think he’s going to shove his boxers off. My heart is in my throat, and my stomach drops out.
Please don’t.
He’s not shy about nudity—he’s been naked after strip poker before.
I hold my breath, sick of the game I started.
But he puts his hands on his hips, leaving his boxers where they are. “I think—”
“Spit it out,” Solace encourages with a gleam in his eyes.
I’ve never wanted to punch one of my own teammates more.
Wolfe opens his mouth, then stops himself and shakes his head. “I think it’s time for bed.”
A collective groan echoes through the room, but I can breathe. I don’t want to believe that him not looking at Mrs. Topless means anything, but it’s hard not to hope.
The topless girl begins to say something, but Wolfe ignores her and walks around the card table in only his boxers, leaving his clothes where they lie. Even if this is only for our agreement and we’re going to our separate rooms, it’s better than him taking someone else to bed.
He knocks his shoulder against mine and pauses. “Are you going to bed too?”
“Yes, I’m exhausted.” I turn and follow him.
Wolfe proudly strolls through the house and up the stairs to his bedroom, and I’m not mad to be behind him.
The primary bedroom is the first, and he stops outside it.
“Thank you,” I whisper, not really trusting myself to say more this drunk.
“For what?” He leans against the doorframe and fills it.
I know I shouldn’t open my mouth, but the words tumble out. “Going to bed…not stripping…not looking at her…”
“Who?” he asks, playing confused.
He can’t be serious.
“The girl next to you who had her tits out.”
He reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “I didn’t notice.”
I almost believe him. “You’re sweet.”
He looks at our joined hands. “I missed you this week.”
“I missed you, too,” I say against my better judgment.
“Sleep in here tonight?” He tugs at my hand.
“Is that a good idea?”