Hard Hit by Toni Aleo (IceCats #3) - Toni Aleo Page 0,15

or even how you think. But here is an idea—maybe write her an email since you’re obsessed with the one she sent you and ask for a playdate.” He waggles his brows, and I promptly want to kick his ass.

Aviva’s eyes widen as she looks between us. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Nico sings as he heads for the door.

She looks back at me. “What’s he talking about?”

“No clue,” I play off, and his laughter runs down my spine.

I really need to rethink this friendship we have.

But maybe I’ll take his advice…

Chapter Seven

Jaylin

* * *

I tap the toe of my high heel against the rail of the bar as I sip on my cider. I’m waiting for a date with Allen Lissome, a guy I’ve been seeing on and off for a while since he travels a whole lot. When he’s in town, we hook up, and it’s a good time. He’s in the big pharma game, and while his job gives me the creeps since I think there is a cure for cancer out there but pharmaceutical companies are keeping it to themselves, he eats me out like no other. And I need to get off. I have become completely obsessed with Kirby, and I need to kick that again. Allen and his magical mouth cured me of my Kirby issues before, so I’m sure it’ll work a second time.

I lean on my hand as I move my gaze from one TV to another, watching all the sports. Another thing about Allen, he’s a huge sports guy. He loves this sports pub because it has beer and a mean cheesesteak sandwich. Since I’m a fan of the mozzarella sticks and the cider, I don’t mind. Also, they’re quick, which means we get back to his place even quicker. The cider I’m sipping on is imported and my absolute favorite. It goes down real smooth, and I soon realize I’ve finished my glass.

Where the hell is Allen?

As I try to wave down the bartender, I check my phone for a message. I realize that my extreme promptness, which makes me crazy-early everywhere, means Allen isn’t late. Rather, I’m a horny bitch who needs to relax and get another drink. Before the bartender can reach me, though, a rather large man beside me waves him down.

“Three waters and whatever this gorgeous peach is drinking.”

He flashes me the brightest, whitest smile I’ve ever seen, and I can’t help but grin back. “Gorgeous peach? That’s a first.”

He’s beaming as his buddies, who are equally as large, maybe a wee bit bigger, watch with amusement. The taller one is grinning like he’s about to get some, while the other is a little more reserved but interested in what is happening. It doesn’t take a genius to realize they are twins. Really, really hot twins. “Well, I’ve never seen such a gorgeous woman.”

“Lies,” I accuse as the bartender hands me another cider and waters to the boys. Or children. They can’t be over twenty. “Or you haven’t lived long enough to see your fair share of beautiful women.”

His lips curve even more. “Oh peach, I don’t need another twenty years to know beauty when I see it.”

Ha. I called it. “Twenty? My God, you’re a baby.”

He actually blushes. If he weren’t a baby, I’d let him flirt with me all day. Gotta set him loose to prowl. “I’m a big, big man,” he teases, and I grin.

“Big, big man?”

He nods. “I’m big…and big.” He nods toward his cock, and with that, my look tells him to run. He grimaces as his friends guffaw behind him. The reserved one finds this hilarious. “Can I take that back?”

“Please.”

He quickly holds out his hand. “My name is D’Artagnan Miklas.”

I blink. Surely, I heard him wrong. “D’Artagnan?”

He grins. “Yeah? I’m named after some chick flick from the eighties. I guess there’s also some old-ass book.”

Oh, my heart. I was maybe ten, but I lusted after Chris O’Donnell like no other. I wanted to have his little horse-riding babies and teach them to fence. “It was the nineties, and the most amazing, romantic, and beautiful movie, The Three Musketeers.”

“I’ve seen that!” the bigger twin says with a toothy grin. “My mom loves those kinds of movies.”

His mom. I’m probably his mom’s age. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” he says proudly. “I’m a hockey player.”

Just like that, I’m knocked back into the imaginary rink in my head where I’m naked and being banged by Kirby in all his sexy hockeyness against one