Chapter Four
Knox
“This is probably one of the most outlandish things you have ever suggested we do,” I mutter, watching as Jagger practically bounces with excitement.
“It’s what she wants, Knox. She literally asked for it.”
“And what happens when she finds out it’s us?” I fire back.
“He has a point,” Riven quips as he joins us. “She wants this, and who are we to turn her down?”
I shake my head. “You guys are taking this too lightly.”
“Am I?” Jagger replies. “Because I’ve been texting with her all week, and trust me, she’s interested.”
“You’ve been what?!”
“Texting. Flirting. Sexting. You know, normal interactions between two people.” He waves his phone at me. “And she hasn’t blocked my number, so that’s something.”
“Jesus Christ, Jagger.” I run a hand through my hair. “You’re going to get us all arrested.”
“Relax. She has a safe word.”
“A safe word?” Riven sounds amused. “What is this, Fifty Shades of Fucking Hockey?”
“Pineapple,” Jagger says, ignoring Riven’s comment. “If things get too much and she says pineapple, we back off.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “You established a safe word with Levi and Landon Kane’s little sister?”
“Hey, safety first.” He shrugs. “Besides, it was her idea. Something about being fucked in the ass with a pineapple, which I decided was not a good idea.”
I hesitate because although I hear the words he is saying, I don’t want to derail my chances at the NHL because he wants to revenge-fuck her.
“She’s a Kane,” Jagger adds, like he knows exactly what button to push.
If it were anyone else’s sister, it wouldn’t be so tempting.
But the Kane brothers have been thorns in our sides for years.
Every game, every god-damn interview, they act like they’re God’s gift to hockey.
The chance to get under their skin through their precious little sister is almost too tempting to pass up.
“Fine,” I say, adjusting my mask. “But if this goes sideways, I’m blaming both of you.”
“It won’t go sideways,” Jagger says confidently. “Danny owes me big for those playoff tickets I got him. He’ll keep the building secure.”
“And the security cameras?” I ask.
Riven holds up a small device. “I looped the recording. It’s a twenty-minute cycle of empty hallways.”
Of course he’s already thought of that; Riven plans everything. The athletic center is shut down for the day, dark except for a few emergency lights. It’s past ten on a Sunday night, well after closing time. The parking lot is empty except for one car in the far corner.
“That’s Levi’s car,” Jagger says, pointing to the truck. “Told you she’d be here.”
My heart beats faster—this is really happening. We enter the building from the back, where Danny has left the maintenance entrance unlocked. The hallways are dimly lit, with the emergency lights casting shadows along the walls.
“She’s probably in the main gym,” Jagger whispers. “That’s where she usually works out.”
We move through the corridors like we belong there, which I guess we do, having spent countless hours in this building, sweating through practices and conditioning sessions.
The sound of music echoes from the direction of the main gym—some pop song with a heavy beat. As we get closer, I can see the lights are on.
Jagger holds up a hand, motioning for us to stop. He peers around the corner, then looks back at us. “She’s doing yoga,” he whispers. “In workout clothes that should be illegal.”
Riven elbows him. “Focus.”
“I am focused.”
I roll my eyes but can’t deny the anticipation building in my chest. Part of me still thinks this is a terrible idea, but the other part is ready to see what happens.
“How do we want to do this?” I ask.
“Classic hunt style,” Jagger says. “Cut the lights, make some noise, and let her know we’re here. Then we chase.”
“And if she actually says the safe word?”
“Then we stop.” His voice is serious. “I’m not actually trying to traumatize her, Knox. Just give her what she asked for.”
Riven nods toward the electrical panel. “I’ll kill the lights. You two take opposite sides of the gym. When she runs, we move her toward the arena.”
“The arena?” I repeat, curiosity piqued.
“More space and places to hide,” Jagger explains, excitement radiating off him.
I position myself on the left side of the gym entrance while Jagger takes the right.
Through the doorway, I can see Leila in the middle of the floor, stretching into some complicated yoga pose that makes my mouth go dry.
She’s wearing black leggings and a sports bra, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail. She has no idea we’re here.
Riven gives us a thumbs up from the electrical panel. Then the lights go out.
For a moment, there’s nothing but darkness and sudden silence as her music cuts off. Then I hear her voice, confused but not panicked.
“Hello? Why did the power go out?”
Jagger makes the first move, scuffing his foot against the floor. The sound echoes loudly in the empty gym.
“What was that?”
I take a step forward, but I’m only a darker silhouette in the shadows, letting my presence be known without revealing myself. My heart is hammering so hard I’m sure she can hear it.
“Okay, this isn’t funny,” she calls out, but there’s something in her voice that suggests maybe she thinks it is—just a little.
Emergency lighting kicks in, shadowing everything in a red glow. We flick our masks on and that’s when she sees us.
“Oh, fuck me,” she breathes, and I can see her eyes go wide even from across the gym.
Jagger steps fully into view. “You did ask me to bring friends.”
She spins toward me, and I step forward again. Her gaze darts between us, looking for an escape route.
“Remember,” Jagger says, “you have a safe word.”
Then she runs, bolting toward the exit closest to me, but I’m ready for her. I move to cut her off, not touching but making it clear the route is blocked. She pivots smoothly, heading for the opposite exit where Riven appears.
“This way,” Jagger calls, gesturing toward the corridor that leads to the main arena.
She looks back at us once, and I swear I see her smile before she takes off in that direction.
We let her stay ahead of us, moving her deeper into the athletic center, like Riven planned. She tries to duck into the equipment room, but Jagger’s there first, blocking her path with his body. She spins and heads for the locker rooms, but I appear at that entrance too.
“Arena,” Riven’s distorted voice echoes from behind her, and she has no choice but to push through the double doors into the main hockey arena.
It’s darker here than in the gym, lit only by a few emergency lights that cast shadows across the ice. She stops in the middle of the walkway, breathing hard, looking around at the empty seats and the rink below.
“What are you going to do now, Kane?” Jagger asks.
She turns to face us, and even in the dim light, I can see she’s not scared.
“Took you long enough,” she taunts. “Catch me if you can, boys.”
Oh, it’s on. Leila Kane is fucking hot. Just knowing we fucked the Kane twins’ little sister the next time we get on the ice with them is going to be enough for me.
She takes off down the stairs toward the ice, sneakers squeaking against the concrete steps. We follow behind her, the three of us spreading out to cut off her escape routes.
“You know,” she calls over her shoulder as she reaches the bottom level, “you guys are pretty slow!”
Jagger laughs. “We’re not trying to catch you yet, baby girl. We’re playing with our food.”
She darts toward the tunnel that leads to the locker rooms, but Riven appears to block her path. She spins around and almost collides with me as I close in from the other side.
“Shit,” she breathes, but she’s grinning.
“Language, Kane,” I say. “What would your brothers think?”
“My brothers aren’t here,” she shoots back, ducking under my arm and making a break for the opposite tunnel. “And they don’t control me.”
“No,” Jagger says, matching her pace as she runs along the boards, “but we might.”
She throws a look back at him. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
She tries to vault over the boards and onto the ice, but I’m there first. I catch her around the waist and set her back on solid ground. The contact sends electricity through me, and from the way she gasps, I think she feels it too.
“Nice try,” I murmur close to her ear.
She elbows me in the ribs, not intending to hurt, but enough to make me loosen my grip. “I’m just getting started.”
She breaks free and runs toward the Zamboni entrance, but Riven’s already there, arms crossed, waiting.
“You’re running out of options,” he says.
“Am I?” She climbs up onto the dasher boards, balancing like she’s done this before, and maybe she has—I can imagine she has spent a lot of time in arenas. “Maybe I like being cornered.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Jagger warns, moving closer to her.
“Why? You afraid I might get what I want?” She jumps down from the boards, landing right in front of him. For a moment, they’re close enough he could stop the chase.
Then she’s moving again, this time toward the penalty boxes.
We follow, working together like we do on the ice, anticipating her moves and cutting off her angles.
She barely makes it to the penalty box doorway before Jagger catches up, but he presses his hands against the glass on either side of her, trapping her between his arms and the door.
“End of the line, Kane,” he says, his mask inches from her face.
She tilts her head up to meet his gaze, completely unafraid. “Is it though?” Then she does something that stops all three of us cold. She reaches up and traces her finger along the edge of Jagger’s mask. “You know what I think?” she drawls. “I think you boys are all talk.”
“All talk?” Jagger repeats. “You sure you want to test that?”
She smiles. The tilt of her mouth screams, Yes, I fucking do.
For a second, Jagger doesn’t move, then he grabs her by the hips and turns her until her back hits the glass. The sound echoes through the rink and goes straight to my dick.
Leila doesn’t flinch; she just smiles as Jagger’s hands slide down to her thighs, and I move in closer.
“Still think we’re all talk?” Jagger asks as he moves her through the penalty box.
She laughs again and doesn’t answer.
Jagger grips her hips and lifts her just enough to bend her over the ledge of the box. She goes willingly, her forearms braced against the cool glass, her back arched—a perfect fucking view.
I step behind her and slide my hands up her sides. The second my fingers graze the bottom curve of her sports bra, she lets out a shaky sound, like a gasp and a moan at the same time.
“Fuck,” I murmur, sliding my hands over the fabric and tugging it up, exposing her fully.
The second her tits hit the air, her nipples tighten into hard little peaks, reacting instantly to the cold.
She shivers. “Ohhh,” she moans, laughing through it.
I cup her breast with one hand and tease a fingertip across her nipple with the other. Her body tenses and then melts into the sensation, grinding back against me without hesitation.
“You really like being cornered?” I ask.
“I like knowing none of you can decide who gets me first,” she says, breath hitching when I pinch just enough to make her gasp again.
Jagger groans. “That mouth of yours is gonna get you fucked six different ways.”
“Then get started,” she sasses back. “Or are you still all talk?”
Her words make Jagger snap. He yanks her leggings down without warning, and she gasps again when the cold air hits her skin, but she doesn’t stop him.
She only shifts her knees wider on the bench and presses her chest harder to the glass like she’s offering herself to the whole fucking arena.
Who would have thought the Kane’s little sister was so fucking wild?
Riven stands beside me now. He doesn’t say much when he’s turned on; he just watches with that look in his eye that makes most people nervous. Another good reason to be masked right now.
Leila looks over her shoulder and smiles at him.
Jagger slides a hand between her legs, testing her, and swears under his breath. “Fuck, you’re wet.”
She huffs a laugh into the glass. “Told you.”
And then he pushes inside her. Her body jolts forward with the force, a sharp cry escaping her lips.
Riven’s hand slides down her spine as Jagger sets a brutal rhythm, hips snapping against her ass, the box echoing with the sound of skin on skin. She cries out again, louder this time.
“You still think we’re all talk?” I say, my voice low.
She tries to answer, but Jagger shifts his angle, and whatever words she had dissolve into a moan.
I reach around and slide my hand between her legs, just above where Jagger’s thrusting into her. My fingers press against her clit, and she loses it, jerking hard between us.
“You’re gonna make her come,” Riven murmurs.
“Good,” I say, rubbing slow circles. “Her body’s begging for it.”
She turns her head, eyes glassy and wild, skin marked by sweat and the cold. “Don’t stop,” she says, voice wrecked. “Don’t you fucking dare stop.”
Jagger growls, gripping her hips tighter, as Riven finally slips his hand around to her throat, just enough to let her fall apart.
And she does.
She comes with a scream, her whole body seizing between us. Jagger drives into her hard and deep one last time before he comes with a groan, burying his mask against her shoulder.
I don’t move my hand from her clit—I just ease the pressure and let her ride the aftershocks.
Her knees buckle, and all three of us move at once to catch her.