Page 18 of Puck Off, She’s Mine

"Me?" I blink, a little surprised that she's figured me out so quickly. Fuck. I expected it to take her a little longer. Clearly, I'm no good at this shit. "Why would I do that?"

"Isn't that the million-dollar question?" she asks, scanning my face like she's looking for the truth.

I meet her gaze, giving her my best innocent expression. I'm not sure if she's buying it or not. She's hard to read when she wants to be. A bead of sweat rolls down my back. Shit. Should I fess up? I don't want to lie to her, but I'm not ready to watch her walk away from me, either. I need more time.

I decide to try to buy myself some time with a partial truth.

"Expensive questions require expensive truths," I murmur. "Maybe I'm not rich enough to afford to pay the price yet."

"And when will you be?"

When you fall for me.

"I'll let you know."

She stares at me for a long moment and then nods as if she gets what I'm saying and is willing to play along for now. I bite back a sigh of relief, my hands tight around my skates to keep from reaching for her.

She tracks the movement, her eyes widening slightly. "You have practice."

"I do." I take a step toward her. "Am I going to see you afterward?"

Her throat works, her pulse fluttering wildly. "Maybe."

Fucking hell. I want to kiss her so badly it defies logic.

"I'd like to see you after."

"Why?" She looks at me, not like she's just meeting my gaze, but like she's trying to figure me out. Like my answer matters. She wants the truth, not about the rumors, but about me. About us. About why I'm so fucking determined to wear her down.

And I'm not sure I know how to answer that question. It'd be easy to say I want her because I'm jealous as hell. That's true, but it's not the truth. I don't want her because the thought of her with Corey makes me homicidal. I don't want her because she's kept my cock hard since the day we met.

I want her for all the reasons I'm not sure I even know how to put into words. Because she's constantly on my mind. Because she feels necessary. Because my body is a livewire whenever she's around. Because she makes me want more. Because, as fucking cliché as it sounds, my life has been demonstrably better since I collided with her than it ever was before that moment. I want her because not having her is the worst thing I can imagine.

But I think telling her any of that might send her running. She doesn't know me, doesn't trust me, isn't even sure she likes me. I'm wild for her…and she's still on the fence about me.

So I settle for another partial truth—the little piece I think maybe she'll accept. "Because I like you," I say simply. "And I'd like a chance to prove that maybe you like me, too."

"Phoenix."

"It doesn't have to be a date, gorgeous. Just a conversation. That's all I'm asking for here," I murmur, my voice pitched low. "Just ten minutes where you let yourself forget that you're trying not to like me and let your guard down."

She stares at me for so long, I'm convinced she's going to shoot me down. But she doesn't. Instead, she groans, a tiny smile licking at her lips.

"Fine," she says. "Ten minutes."

I whoop like I just won the fucking Cup. Truthfully though, I think this might be better than that.

"Go to practice," she says, shaking her head. But she's still smiling.

So am I. All the way to the bench.

Not even seeing Corey's stupid ass wipes it away.

Chapter Six

Cara

Practice is half over, and my notebook is full of observations. Sadly, not a single one of them will ever see the light of day because I'm almost certain the world doesn't need to know that Phoenix's laugh sounds like thunder rumbling through the arena or that he made my heart flutter when he winked at me while skating by. I'm not entirely sure why I wrote either, to be honest.