Page 107 of Scarred

I weigh my angles before settling on the right corner. Trying my best not to let him read my movement, I swing with a little curve to it.

His stick easily blocks it, and I frown as he grins my way, sending the puck back to me.

“That’s one.”

“I can count,” I mumble, hearing him chuckle softly in the background.

The second one doesn’t go much better with another stick save.

“Last one, sweetheart,” he smirks. “You know, if you want, I can close my eyes.”

“Don’t you dare,” I mutter. “I want to win this fair and square.”

Or at least somewhat fair as an idea forms in my head.

Sliding the puck along the ice with my stick, I get close to the net and stop right in front of him. He eyes me warily and straightens when I get my body as close as I can without touching.

“It’s a shame there are rules about touching the goalie,” I say, fingering my necklace at my breasts.

His eyes dart down before they flick to mine. A smile tugs at his lips as he bends closer to me. “I don’t see any refs around here to stop you.”

My breath mingles with his as he fingers the waistband of my sweats, pulling me flush against him with one hook of his finger.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I kick the puck in with the edge of my skate, and it slides right by his distracted eyes.

“I believe I just scored,” I grin.

“What?” He whips his head around and sees the puck in his net. “Well played,” he laughs, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I fell for that.”

“Looks like I get that date after all,” I smile.

“Looks like you do. The distraction was a nice touch.”

“I thought so,” I giggle. “You know…I did just score against the top NHL goalie in the league,” I grin, “and I’m thinking that deserves another reward. Not many people can say they scored on Cayden Blade.”

“True,” he says, cocking his head. “What did you have in mind?”

Lifting my shirt over my head, I toss it on the ice, leaving me in just my white lace bra. Heat flashes across his eyes, awakening my body from just one look. “I’m sure you can think of something.”

“I most definitely can think of something,” he growls, tossing his stick to the ground and pulling me to him. Lifting me, my stick clatters to the ground as my legs circle his waist. My fingers dive into his hair as my lips meet his.

He’s urgent and demanding as his tongue seeks mine. With a quick flip of his fingers, my bra comes undone, and he tosses it to the ground before his hands slide down my bare back again, pressing me harder against him.

“Hang on,” he barks out the order, skating us off the ice and walking us down the hall.

We enter the locker room again, and he heads straight to the corner before setting me on the padded bench. Kneeling, he takes my skates off at record speed before tossing his aside next to mine.

Pulling me back to him, his hands dive into my hair as we feed off of each other’s oxygen.

He’s hard against my stomach, and the need to feel him has me untying his sweats and freeing him from his boxer briefs. My hand circles around his swollen length and slides down the warm veins on his soft skin.

His groan vibrates against my lips as I stroke harder this time.

“Jesus, Luna,” he growls. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Maybe you were never meant to,” I say softly.

“Maybe I never was,” he swallows before silencing me with a kiss.