Page 65 of Ice King

He offered a casual glance in their direction. “Damn party pooper.”

“Somebody needs to be.” When I poked him with my elbow to try to get him to move, I felt pain lancing through him.

Without bothering to look if the seatbelt light had been turned off, I did so anyway so I could turn to face him.

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” He did his best to act as if he wasn’t in agony, but his clenched jaw gave him away.

“What happened? Is that why you didn’t come get your massage after practice, because I’d figure out how much pain you were in?”

He bristled in the same way he’d done over the first couple of days. At least we were past some crazy sense of being completely uncomfortable around each other.

“I’m fine, Georgia, and I’m sorry about not making a point of talking to you. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

“Talk to me. What happened? Your face looks like you were used as a battering ram. Although the bruises have miraculously faded.”

“You know why.”

“You’re a wolf.” I still couldn’t believe I could admit the truth. I’d paid attention to the headlines, the social media having a field day. Both good and bad, some bad actors convinced he’d used his shifter abilities in the game. I’d watched him closely enough to know the accusations were false. “Except you didn’t heal well before.”

“According to the news I’m a wolf.” He shrugged and pulled away, his body language indicating he was shutting down.

“Your ribs are cracked. Right? Those can’t heal as quickly as the rest of you.” I could only imagine what the press would do if they caught onto the fact he’d been in a fight. Somehow, I could feel his pain and knew instinctively he’d been in a brawl, which had led to another injury.

One foot was tapping on the floor and it was the first time I witnessed him acting anything but completely confident about his abilities. “Yeah, but my ribs are fine.”

“Not if an opponent gets wind of your injury. They’ll do whatever they did before. Clock you or something.”

At least he proved he could still smirk. “Boarding. It’s called boarding.”

“Whatever. You can’t go on the ice injured and even you, Mr. Hardhead, know that. You’ve hidden this from the coach. Haven’t you?”

Every muscle in his body tensed and when he turned toward me, the flash of anger was raw. For a brief second, I almost felt fear. “Don’t you say a word, Georgia. I need to play this damn game. It’s my career we’re talking about. Everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“I understand that, but you’re in agony.”

When he leaned in this time, my gasp brought shock to his face. “Did you think I was going to hurt you?”

“No, of course not.”

“My God.” He rubbed his jaw, the foot still tapping away. “I was in a fight. Okay? A guy from my past and we definitely don’t get along.”

My groan at least brought him some sense of amusement. “Neither massage nor physical therapy are going to help before the game tonight. I take it your wolf is working as fast as he can.”

“Something like that. He has a few issues to deal with himself.”

My God, the man was freaking nervous around me. Had I struck a nerve? “I don’t understand, but is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?”

His suave attitude returned if only for a few seconds. “Well, there is one thing.” With his eyebrows lifted, his eyes drifting ever so slowly down from my face, I didn’t need to play detective to know what he had in mind. In truth, a series oftiny thrills coursed through me, rushing directly into my already overheated core.

“Would you like me to tell you exactly what you can do for me? How about coming to my hotel room for a little… Maybe you could wear a sexy pair of underwear and a trench coat. A stunning pair of heels. And nothing else. Bring a set of handcuffs with you. We can enjoy a night filled with kinky fun. Trust me. I won’t feel any pain after that.”

He was tormenting me on purpose, trying to drive me crazy. With my nipples rock hard and pushing through the thin material of my shirt, he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

As expected, explosive tickling sensations crossed from one side of my jaw to the other. “Why don’t you just concentrate on the game tonight. But your ribs need to be wrapped. Somehow, I don’t think having s-e-x is going to help you. In fact, you might break something.”

Was I actually considering wrapping him without telling the coach?

“You spelled out sex. Really? I’m not twelve,” he said, offering a chuckle that kept quivers sweeping through me. “The funny thing is that sex is exactly what I need. But only with you.”