Chapter 2
Ice isn't doing shit for my knuckles.
I flex my hand under the homemade ice pack, watching the bruises darken across my skin. Worth it. That Providence forward had it coming after the cheap shot he took. My job as enforcer is to make sure nobody touches our captain – even if the scouts hate it.
Liam drops onto our couch, making me shift my iced hand. "Bro, Ace, your sister's probably hitting up another party tonight." He’s staring at his phone.
Ace doesn't look up from his textbook. "Kennedy doesn't party."
I say nothing, remembering how she looked last night – that black dress, those bedroom eyes, all that exposed skin. Senator's daughter playing bad. The memory makes my jaw clench.
"Actually..." Liam scrolls through his phone. "According to Sawyer’s Instagram story, she's at the Sigma Chi footballer party right now."
That gets Ace’s attention. "What?"
"With whoever this is," Liam adds, like that makes it better. "They're celebrating the football win or whatever."
Fuck.
I know those parties. They're worse than hockey parties – football players have something to prove, especially around pretty rich girls with powerful fathers. Girls like Kennedy.
"Fuck. I can’t fucking babysit. I need to study this or my dad’s gonna have my head," Ace says, shaking his head.
"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. Both of them look at me. "You've got that economics exam tomorrow. Study. I'll handle it."
"Knox..." Ace’s voice carries a warning. "You're supposed to be laying low after that fight. Scouts are already—"
"I'm not going to fight anyone." Probably. "I'll just make sure she gets home safe."
Ace studies me for a long moment. He knows I've been watching out for Kennedy since she started here – partially because she's his sister, partially because... well. Better not to finish that thought.
"Fine," he finally says. "But Knox? She's my fucking sister, so–"
I nod. Like I could forget.
I grab my keys and head out, deliberately not thinking about last night.
Not thinking about how she felt pressed against me in that dark room.
Not thinking about the way she trembled when I touched her chin.
Not thinking about her desperately wanting to get railed, which explains why she’s at this party. The princess is clearly up to no good.
The Sigma Chi house is only a ten minute drive from our place, but it feels longer in the February darkness. Music pulses through the street as I approach, along with the distinct sounds of football players showing off.
I walk in and spot Kennedy immediately.
She's traded last night's black dress for tiny denim shorts and a cropped hockey jersey that I'm pretty sure is Ace’s. Her dark hair is up in a high ponytail, showing off a neck that's begging to be—
Off-limits.
I watch her laugh at something one of the linebackers says, and something in me ticks. There are three of them circling her like sharks, and even from here I can see the excited glint in their eyes.
Sawyer notices me first. I see the moment she recognizes me, the way her eyes widen in warning. But Kennedy's back is to me, and she's too busy playing with fire to notice.
"I love football players," she's saying, voice dripping seduction. "You guys are so much... bigger than hockey players."
That does it.
I cross the space in four strides, grabbing her arm and spinning her to face me. "Time to go."
"Knox!" She tries to wrench away, but I've got seven inches on her. "What are you—"
"Hey man," one of the linebackers steps forward. "She’s having fun."
I turn slowly, letting him see exactly who he's dealing with. Recognition flashes across his face – everyone here knows what happened to the last guy who fought me.
"She," I say carefully, "is leaving."
Kennedy struggles against my grip. "No, I'm not! You can't just—"
"Sawyer." I cut off Kennedy's protests. "Get her stuff. We're going."
To her credit, Sawyer doesn't argue. She just grabs their purses and follows as I half-drag Kennedy toward the door. The linebacker looks like he might object, but his friends pull him back. Smart friends.
"Let go of me!" Kennedy tries to dig her heels in once we're outside. "You're hurting me."
I release her immediately, even though I know I wasn't fucking hurting her. "What the hell are you thinking?"
She rubs her arm dramatically. "God, what is your problem?"
"My problem?" I step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. "My problem is you throwing yourself at guys who could break you in half."
"Maybe I want to be broken."
Christ. The words hit me like a shot of whiskey, burning all the way down. She has no idea what she's asking for. No idea what those words do to the darkness inside me.
"Kenny." Sawyer's voice is gentle but firm. "Maybe we should go home."
"Listen to your friend," I growl, not breaking eye contact with Kennedy. "Car's this way."
"We can get an Uber."
"Not happening."
She opens her mouth to argue more, but I'm already walking toward my car. After a moment, I hear them following. Small victories.
The drive to their dorm is tense. Kennedy sits in the back, radiating fury, while Sawyer tries to make awkward small talk from the passenger seat. I focus on driving, on not looking in the rearview mirror every five seconds to watch Kennedy pout.
I walk them to their building because I'm not an asshole, despite what Kennedy whispers to Sawyer. At the door, Sawyer goes in first, leaving me alone with hurricane Kennedy.
"I know what you're doing," she says quietly.
"Yeah?" I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms.
"You're trying to protect my virtue or whatever because of some stupid code with my brother. But guess what?" She steps closer, tilting her face up to mine. "I can fuck whoever I want, wherever I want, whenever I want."
I catch a whiff of her perfume – something sweet.
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to track the movement. "So stop following me around like some sexually frustrated guard dog."
A laugh almost escapes me. "Sexually frustrated guard dog?"
"Please." Her eyes rake down my body, leaving heat in their wake. "I see how you watch me at parties. How you clench your jaw when guys talk to me. How you—"
I catch her chin, just like last night. "Careful, Princess."
"Or what?"
Or I'll show you exactly what sexually frustrated looks like, I think. I'll pin you against this wall and kiss that smirk off your face. I'll make you forget every other man's name.
"Go to bed," I say, releasing her. "And stop trying to make me snap. You wouldn't like the results."
Something flashes in her eyes – victory? – but she just turns and flounces into her building without another word.
I wait until I hear the door lock, then start the quick drive home. The February air does nothing to cool the heat under my skin. Nothing to stop the images flooding my mind.
Kennedy in that tiny jersey.
Kennedy pressing closer instead of pulling away.
Kennedy looking up at me with those innocent eyes while she—
But alone in my room later, ice melting off my bruised knuckles, the mantra isn't working anymore. Because every time I close my eyes, I see her. Every time I try to sleep, I hear her voice.
Maybe I want to be broken.
I roll over, punching my pillow. Down the hall, I can hear Ace talking on the phone, probably checking on his sister. My best friend's sister. The one girl I absolutely cannot touch.
But as I finally drift off, one thing I know for sure is:
Kennedy is not going to fuck whoever she wants, wherever she wants, whenever she wants.
I’ll make sure of it.