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"Leia."
He chuckles and I press my hands to my overheated cheeks.
"I did not give you my name because I want to look at your junk," I growl. "I need a favor."
"Did you just insult my dick?"
"What? No. Oh my gosh. Why are we even talking about it?" I cry. How is this happening right now? My sisters are never going to let me live this down when they find out.
"You're the one who keeps bringing him up." He chuckles. "In more ways than one."
"Oh, my God. Stop talking!"
He laughs again. "What kind of favor do you need, Trouble?"
"What's your name?"
"My name is your favor?"
"No," I groan and close my eyes. "This would go so much faster if you'd put clothes on so I can look at you."
"Again, no. How do you not know my name, but you know that fucker's name?" he growls.
"Who?"
"Bruce Gordon."
"Long story."
"I've got time."
"Well, I don't. And I don't know anything about hockey."
"But you know Bruce Gordon."
"I know his name. If you'd quit being irritating, I'd know yours too."
"Colter Bayliss."
"Colter," I repeat, resisting the urge to shiver as I say it. It fits him, though I'm not sure why.
"Say my name again and you'll be naked in this locker room too, Leia."
I whip around to face him. Only he isn't across the room anymore. He's standing right in front of me. So freaking close I practically bump into him. He grasps my arms to keep me from tipping over backward. His scent wraps around me and my entire body quivers. I brush against his erection in the process.
"Fuck," he mutters, his pupils flaring as he sways toward me. His jaw turns to granite as he tries to get himself in check.
"Let me go," I whisper, my whole body aching for something that it shouldn't want. I don't even know this man. Just because he's naked and touching me shouldn't make me want to jump into his arms. And yet…that's exactly what I want to do.
"Tell me why you're in our locker room."
"I got lost."
"Who were you trying to surprise?" His gaze rakes across my face, his expression hard.
"Who was I trying to…?" My stomach sinks as realization dawns. I jerk out of his hold, putting space between us. He thinks I'm a puck bunny. "I'm not a puck bunny, Colter. I'm a journalist. I'm looking into a story and got lost. That's it."
"What story?"
