9. Sydney

CHAPTER 9

SYDNEY

A couple of weeks after my momentary lapse in judgment with DJ, I take a deep breath and step into a glittering ballroom, my stomach doing somersaults.

A sleek emerald dress hugs my body as I totter in unsteady stilettos, silently cursing my sister for convincing me these would make my legs look amazing. Crystal chandeliers drip from the ornate ceiling, illuminating the elegant place settings on white linen tablecloths.

It's all so…fancy, worlds away from my usual grungy sports bars and pizza joints.

The team really went all out sponsoring this swanky charity gala, no doubt trying to repair their image. Here's hoping a massive donation and some schmoozing will get the media vultures off their backs .

I'm beyond flattered they included me, the team's lowly new girl, but my excitement wars with jangling nerves at the thought of seeing DJ and Tyler.

Things have gotten...complicated with those two, to say the least.

Heat rises in my cheeks as I remember my tryst DJ on the rooftop. I can't believe that I let something like that happen between us, especially after turning down Tyler in part because I knew he had feelings for DJ.

But after that night out with Tyler and my conversation with Emma, my thoughts were a constant revolving spiral around Tyler and DJ. And when I walked out onto that roof and it was apparent that DJ was immediately more than game to hook up…I found that all of my mental resistance had disappeared.

God, the way his hands felt skimming my body, his lips on my skin ...

I pinch my arm, pulling myself out of my horny memories. Can't let anything like that happen here amid the city's elite and a gaggle of nosy reporters.

I find my place card and nearly choke. Of freaking course . I'm seated at the same table as both Tyler and DJ.

Fate has a twisted sense of humor.

Grabbing the lone empty chair next to Tyler, I will my racing heart to calm the hell down, but he's not making it easy. That tailored suit does sinful things to his broad shoulders. His sandy hair looks extra tousled, like he's been running anxious hands through it.

Tyler meets my gaze and quirks a tiny uncertain smile that has my insides flipping.

"Hey Syd. You look stunning," he murmurs, eyes roving over me appreciatively before he seems to catch himself and glances away. The tips of his ears turn adorably pink.

"Thanks, Ty. You clean up pretty well yourself," I tease gently, trying to dissipate the awkward energy crackling between us. We've been dancing around each other for weeks, this unspoken attraction pulling us together even as Tyler's feelings for DJ push us apart.

DJ chooses that moment to drop smoothly into the seat on my other side, his woodsy cologne swirling around me.

Trust him to convince my other seatmate to switch spots in 30 seconds flat .

Memories of his lips, his hands, the delicious hardness of his athletic body flash through my mind. I swallow hard.

"Well, doesn't this cozy seating arrangement just make you want to send fate a fruit basket?" he drawls, signature smirk firmly in place as his brown eyes smolder.

His gaze drags over me slowly, raising goosebumps in its wake.

"Damn, Sydney," he continues. "Forget the fruit, fate deserves a case of good bourbon for putting you in that dress."

I roll my eyes even as a blush heats my cheeks. "Keep it in your pants, Casanova. In case you haven't noticed, we're in public. At a charity event. For sick kids."

"Hey, I've got nothing but pure thoughts over here," he says, all wide-eyed faux innocence. "For instance, I'm thinking about how much I'd like to make a sizable donation. To the kids, of course."

Tyler nearly chokes on his water. I glare at DJ, trying and failing to stop the corners of my mouth from twitching. Damn him .

This night is going to be...interesting.

My head spins as introductions are made around the table, a whirlwind of unfamiliar names and handsome faces, members of the business teams I haven't met yet, and a few players that haven't taken advantage of my counseling sessions.

The guys waste no time drawing me into the conversation, their good-natured ribbing and easy camaraderie quickly putting me at ease.

"So Sydney, what's the craziest thing you've seen as a team doc so far?" one of the players asks. "Any wild rookie initiation rituals?"

I hesitate, not wanting to admit that the Blizzards are the first team I've ever worked with, then grin.

"Well, once during med school, I watched a teacher stitch up a med student who tried to impress a girl by doing a keg stand...totally naked. Not a pretty sight, let me tell you!"

The table erupts in guffaws. Warmth spreads through me as DJ and Tyler lean in, their solid frames bracketing me on either side. It feels good to let loose.

"Where are you originally from, Sydney?" Another innocent question, but it makes me tense up.

"Oh, I just moved here from Boston," I say lightly, determined not to let my smile falter. Eager to change the subject, I turn to DJ. "So, hot stuff, regale us with a tale from your rookie days. I'm sure you have some gems."

DJ grins and launches into a raunchy story involving a bottle of tequila, a stripper named Cinnamon, and a live chicken, much to everyone's delight. And as the guys swap increasingly wild tales, I find myself forgetting all about Boston for the moment, too caught up in the laughter and the intoxicating pull of the two men beside me.

I'm digging into my short rib when the voice of Nikolai, a player I don't know as well, booms from the other side of my table.

"Lightweights couldn't handle a real party!" he guffaws, and I suddenly tense.

I know he's referring to Jason, Mikey, and Tomas, who couldn't join the event tonight because booze is flowing freely.

My jaw clenches. Irritation prickles under my skin at the crude jab about my patients. Pushing away from the table, I make an excuse about saying hi to Vincent, the general manager, seated three tables over with some of the biggest donors.

Weaving between the tables, snippets of gossip reach my ears. I slow my pace as two well-coiffed women, dripping in diamonds, huddle together in scandalous conversation, their eyes darting back to my table.

"I heard the…what did you call them, Gretchen? Oh, puck bunnies!" Giggles erupt. "Well, I heard the puck bunnies throw themselves at that DJ Johnston especially. He has quite the...reputation, if you know what I mean."

The women exchange a knowing look.

"Oh, I know what you mean! That body and those tattoos...mmm. I wouldn't kick him out of bed!"

"Right? No wonder everyone's absolutely feral for him."

Laughter trills again and heat flares in my chest, my pulse picking up speed. Irritation, yes. But a thorny tangle of something else too...something green-eyed and possessive.

I shake my head and quicken my steps, trying to outpace the unexpected sting of jealousy.

Smile plastered on my face, I greet Vincent, Coach Daniels, and Chloe, determined not to let idle gossip get under my skin, and I relax as they assure me that the event is going well. But as we're talking a flash of movement catches my eye.

It's DJ, leaning against the bar with a devilish grin, two champagne flutes dangling from his fingertips. He tilts his head, beckoning me over with a come-hither look that sends shivers down my spine.

After excusing myself I approach the bar cautiously, pulse quickening as DJ hands me a glass.

His fingers graze mine, lingering just a moment too long. Memories of our rooftop rendezvous flood my mind—his strong hands caressing my thighs, slipping higher and higher...

Choking on my champagne, I sputter inelegantly as DJ chuckles.

"Careful there, Doc. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." His eyes sparkle with mirth and...something darker. Desire.

We make innocuous small talk, but the air crackles between us, sparks threatening to ignite at any second. I need to shut this down before I spontaneously combust .

"Well, guess we should rejoin our table..." I hedge, looking for an escape.

But DJ leans in close, his warm breath tickling my ear. My toes curl in my crazy stilettos as I hear his murmur.

"Or we could find somewhere a little more private to continue our conversation." His voice is low, seductive, and despite my better judgment, it tugs at every nerve ending in my body.

Flushing scarlet, I stumble back a step, mind reeling even as my body responds to his brazen words.

"I, um, I should really finish my dinner before they clear the plates..." I stammer.

His eyes practically burn into my back as I turn and rush back to my table.

Collapsing into my seat beside Tyler, I watch as Tyler quirks an eyebrow but says nothing. Doesn't need to. The heat staining my cheeks is all the confirmation required: he saw everything.

I catch the jealousy that flashes across his face and feel terrible and then even more terrible for wondering whether he's jealous of DJ or of me.

The uncomfortable moment stretched between us until Tyler clears his throat, turning towards me with a softness in his eyes that contradicts the stoic mask of his face.

"You alright?" he murmurs, voice barely audible above the laughter and clinking of glasses around us.

I nod, trying to muster a less shaky smile. "Yeah, just... a lot of people here tonight." It's a feeble excuse, and we both know it.

Luckily, the sound of the live band starting up saves me from my misery—staffers clear our table and waiters start circulating the room with delicate desserts and pots of coffee.

Tyler stands and glances my way. For a moment I wonder if he's going to ask me to dance but instead, he excuses himself to use the restroom.

I sigh, not knowing if I'm more disappointed or relieved. At least I can give my aching feet a rest.

I'm sipping an after-dinner cappuccino, relaxing on a plush velvet couch at the edge of the ballroom and deep in conversation with Chloe about the hockey team's recent troubles, when there's a tap on my shoulder.

Turning, I find DJ grinning down at me, his hand outstretched in invitation. The colorful tattoos snaking up his muscular forearm seem to dance in the pulsing lights.

The formal dinner and keynote speeches have given way to dancing, the ballroom floor filling with swaying couples, groups of friends, and tipsy laughter. Many of the older attendees started to head home, and the party became livelier for the younger crowd.

"May I have this dance, gorgeous?" DJ's deep brown eyes sparkle mischievously.

I hesitate for a moment, knowing I'm just asking for trouble if I take his hand.

DJ is charming and persistent, and there's no denying our sexual connection. But I'm still the team counselor, and this is a work event.

He looks unfairly handsome in his crisp tuxedo, a few strands of dark hair artfully escaping to frame his chiseled face. The champagne bubbles pleasantly in my veins, making my reasons for ignoring him seem silly.

What's the harm in one dance, when half the team is out there on the dance floor with donors and staff?

Throwing caution to the wind, I accept DJ's hand and let him lead me onto the dance floor. Shimmering strands of lights crisscross the high ceiling, casting an intimate glow. The bass thumps as he pulls me close, one strong arm circling my waist.

We start to move in sync to the sensual beat.

"Well this is a nice surprise," DJ murmurs near my ear. "I was hoping you'd say yes."

"Don't let it go to your head," I tease, trying to play it cool despite the way my heart races at his proximity. "I'm just here for the dancing."

"Mmm, is that so?" His lips curve. "We'll see about that."

DJ spins me out dramatically, the skirt of my dress flaring, before tugging me back flush against his firm chest.

I can't help but laugh. "Not bad, hotshot. You've got some moves."

"You haven't seen anything yet, babe." He waggles his eyebrows comically.

We continue to banter playfully as we twirl and sway to the music, my initial nervousness fading.

"I have to say, Syd, you're equally beautiful in evening wear and office attire…although I prefer you in a slightly shorter skirt…" he says, voice low and intimate as his fingers skim my lower back.

A pleasant shiver runs through me at his insinuation, and it's like I can feel his fingers inside me again. I struggle to catch my breath and push the memory away.

"Does this routine usually work for you?" I ask tartly.

"Who says it's a routine? Maybe I'm just enraptured by your devastating wit and beauty." His tone is light and flirty, but there's an underlying sincerity in his eyes that makes my breath catch.

We move together effortlessly as the song builds, DJ's strong arms guiding me. My body relaxes into his, letting the rest of the room fall away.

The song ends and DJ draws me in, his face just inches from mine. For a breathless moment, I'm sure he's going to kiss me, right here in front of all our coworkers.

I'm unable to move, my heart thundering with anticipation.

Suddenly Tyler is here, and DJ and I both turn to him. It looks like he wants to cut in, a flicker of uncertainty on his handsome face.

Then a reckless look crosses his features and before I know it, I'm sandwiched between Tyler and DJ, their hard bodies moving in perfect sync as the pulsing beat surrounds us.

Holy hell, is this really happening?

My head swims, the heat of the crowded dance floor nothing compared to the fire igniting between the three of us, hands and hips brushing in a tantalizing promise of what could be. I lose myself in the music, letting go of my inhibitions as I grind back against Tyler.

His strong hands grip my waist possessively, pulling me flush against him.

In front of me, DJ is all sinful hips and wicked grins, his dark eyes blazing with raw desire as he gazes at me. I can sense his hardness through our clothes, and he's not making any effort to conceal it.

He moves closer, pressing his body against mine, and my breath hitches at the contact. The intensity of the situation makes my head spin—a delicious dizziness fueled by the combination of DJ's allure and Tyler's strong presence behind me.

DJ leans in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, "We're not playing fair, are we?" His voice is a tantalizing mix of temptation and tease.

I manage to stammer out a reply, my voice barely above the music. "Who said anything about fair?"

Tyler's hands tighten slightly on my hips, his breath warm against the back of my neck. The air between us is electric, the heady thrill of being desired by these two gorgeous men too powerful to resist.

I'm drunk on their touch, dizzy with arousal.

Part of me can't believe I'm doing this, dancing with not just one but two professional hockey players on the team I work for, right in front of everyone I work with. But that part of me is drowned out by the rumble of DJ's voice as he leans in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.

"Mmm, you like being in the middle of a Tyler-DJ sandwich, don't you babe?" he purrs, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.

I bite my lip to stifle a moan, my core clenching at the dark promise in his words. Behind me, Tyler growls, his fingers digging into my hips. I can feel exactly what our dancing is doing to him.

Knowing I'm driving them both wild is a heady rush unlike anything I've ever experienced.

It's only when the band switches over to a slower song and the floor empties except for swaying couples that I'm finally hit with the reality of what we're doing, realizing how visible we've become now that we aren't surrounded by bodies.

Shocked at my own behavior, I mumble an excuse about needing the restroom as I practically sprint off the dance floor.

I burst into the blessedly empty bathroom, my chest heaving as I lean back against the cool tile wall. Closing my eyes, I try to calm my racing heart, to quell the ache of arousal pulsing between my thighs.

I stagger to the sinks and splash some cold water on my flushed cheeks, but it does little to extinguish the fire DJ and Tyler ignited inside me. The door suddenly swings open and I whirl around, only to meet the knowing eyes of Emma.

I flush crimson as Emma takes in my disheveled appearance, her eyebrows raising.

"Wow, Sydney, you look like you got hit by a hurricane," Emma quips, shaking her head. "A tall, dark and handsome hurricane. Or two."

Her eyes dance with mirth and maybe a hint of sympathy at my guilty, deer-in-headlights expression. She saunters over to use the mirror next to me, pulling out her lip gloss.

"What? No, I was just, um..." I stammer lamely, my mind scrambling for an excuse and coming up blank. "Fixing my hair! You know how hot it gets on the dance floor at events like this..."

"Mm-hmm, I'm sure there was a lot of steam out there, alright," Emma jokes, her voice dripping with innuendo. "Careful, or you might fog up the mirrors."

She winks suggestively.

My cheeks burn even hotter. Emma's no fool—she clearly saw right through my terrible attempt at a cover story. Her eyes are all-knowing as she gives me a final pointed look.

"Well, I'll leave you to, ah, finish primping. Catch you later, Syd."

With that, Emma slips out of the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. I slump back against the vanity, my legs like jelly. Holy shit.

I stare at my reflection, taking in my just-fucked appearance. There's no denying the truth anymore, at least not to myself.

I want DJ and Tyler. Both of them. Desperately. Every inch of my body is still tingling from their touch, aching for more.

But my work with the team…it wouldn't be right to get involved with either of them. Would it?

And what about the electricity simmering between DJ and Tyler? The heated looks they kept exchanging, the electric spark when they touched...

There's definitely something brewing there, something intense and urgent.

What if the real attraction is only between them? I think that would break my still-fragile heart.

I need to just…ignore this. Forever.

Shouldn't be too difficult, considering that I see them every day at work.