Pucking Around With My Ex's Older Brother

Chapter 1 - Lena's POV Cole was not alone in my physio room, and the girl on my table was not injured. Her dress was hiked up to her hips and his hands were right where mine should have been. I stood in the doorway with a bag of ice melting through the towel in my hands, and the cold water ran down my wrist while I watched my boyfriend of three years forget my name. He did not hear me at first, because the music in the training suite was still running low from post game, and the girl was laughing into his neck like this was her usual spot. I cleared my throat, and the sound was ugly and small, and neither of them moved fast enough to make it a mistake. Cole jerked back like I had shocked him, and his hair was messed up, and his playoff suit was wrinkled at the knees. He said, "Lena, wait, this is not what it looks like." The girl slid off my table and tugged her dress down, and she would not look at me, and that told me everything I needed to know about how long this had been going on. I said, "Get out of my room." She grabbed her heels and ran, and the door clicked shut behind her, and then it was just me and Cole and the ice dripping onto the rubber floor. He held his hands up, and he did that soft voice he used for interviews, and he said, "Baby, listen, it was one time, it was stupid, it was the playoffs." I said, "Was it stupid in here last week too, because Mara said she saw her coming out of here last week." He flinched, and that was my answer, and my stomach turned over hard and fast. He said, "You are making this a big thing, you always make things big." I laughed, and it sounded wrong in my own ears, and I said, "I am making it big, you had your tongue down a rookie WAG on my treatment table ten minutes after a win." He stepped closer, and I stepped back, and the ice bag hit the floor with a wet thud. He said, "Come on, Len, do not do this, we have the team dinner upstairs, Silas is there, my brother is there, you want to make a scene." I said, "Your brother." Something ugly and bright lit up in my chest, and it was not sadness anymore, and it was something meaner and cleaner. He said, "What." I said, "Is Rhys still upstairs." Cole frowned, and he said, "Yeah, why, do not be weird." I wiped my hands on my scrubs, and my fingers were shaking, and I said, "Good." I walked out and left him standing in my physio room with his tie crooked, and I took the back stairs two at a time up to the owners box, and my pulse was loud in my ears the whole way. The box was full and warm and loud, because the Vipers had just taken game three, and Silas Maddox was pouring whiskey by the window, and sponsors were laughing too loud, and the whole team was scattered around in their suits. Rhys Maddox was at the bar alone, because he was always alone, and he had his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and he was watching the ice below like he was still running plays in his head. He was nothing like Cole, he was bigger and quieter and older, and he had a scar that cut through his left eyebrow, and every rookie on the team was scared of him, and every reporter called him cold. He looked up when I walked in, and his eyes tracked me across the room, and he did not smile, because Rhys never smiled. I crossed the box straight to him, and people turned to watch, because I was still in my navy team scrubs and my hair was falling out of my ponytail, and I probably looked crazy. I said, "Captain." He set his glass down, slow, and he said, "Lena." His voice was low and rough, and he said my name like it was a fact, and not a question. I said, "Do you want to help me ruin your brother's night." Something moved behind his eyes, fast, and then it was gone, and he said, "Explain." I said, "I just caught Cole with his hands up someone else's dress in my physio room, so I am going to kiss you right now, and you can push me off if you want." He did not move, and he did not blink, and the whole room kept talking around us like we were invisible. He said, "You do not want to do that." I said, "I do, I really do." He said, "You are angry." I said, "Yes, and I am tired of being the good one, so are you going to stop me." He leaned back against the bar, and his hands stayed flat on the marble, and he said, "No." That was all I needed, and I stepped into his space, and I could smell his cologne and ice and whiskey, and my knees almost gave out. I put one hand on his chest, and his heart was beating hard under my palm, harder than I expected, and I swung one leg over his lap and straddled him right there on the barstool in front of everyone. Someone gasped near the dessert table, and a glass clinked, and then the room went quiet in pieces. Rhys's hands came up to my waist, and his fingers dug in like he was holding himself back, and he said, "Lena, last chance." I said, "Shut up and make it count." I kissed him, and I meant it to be fast and mean and for show, and then his mouth moved against mine, and everything stuttered out. He kissed me back like he had been waiting years to do it, and one hand slid up my back to my neck, and he tilted my head exactly where he wanted me, and the barstool scraped loud against the floor when he stood up with me still wrapped around him. My scrub top rode up, and his palm was hot against my skin, and the whole owners box was staring, and I could not breathe right. He broke the kiss just enough to speak against my mouth, and he said, "You sure." I nodded, because words were gone, and my hands were fisted in his shirt. He turned his head just enough that his voice carried, and he was not talking to me anymore. He said, "Cole." I froze, because Cole was standing in the doorway of the box with his tie still crooked and his face white, and he had seen the whole thing. Rhys adjusted his grip on me, and he held me tighter, not looser, and he looked right at his brother over my shoulder. He said, "She is mine now." Cole said, "You son of a b***h, get your hands off her." Rhys smiled, and it was not nice at all, and he said, "No." Then the door behind Cole slammed open again, and Silas Maddox walked in with two league officials, and one of them was holding a manila folder with my name on the tab, and Silas looked at me straddling his oldest son and said, "Miss Hart, we need to talk about your contract, right now."