Page 6 of Puck Off, She’s Mine

Those big hazel eyes, gorgeous olive skin, and pert little mouth were doing it for me. So was the way her retro dress clung to her curvy body beneath her oversized coat. She's thick everywhere, with the softest fucking skin.

I groan, my hand drifting toward my cock. I squeeze once, trying to get the hard bastard to behave himself, but that's a lost cause. He hasn't behaved since I plowed into her today. Not even beating off in the shower really helped.

I want to see her again, talk to her, see her eyes flash fire while she's spitting that sexy little attitude at me.

"Fuck," I groan, grabbing my phone before I find an excuse to jerk off again. I look her up at Houston Sports Nation, grinning like an idiot when her employee photo pops up. Her dark hair is up in a bun, her expression somber, like she's aiming for professional. She lands somewhere near naughty librarian instead.

What was it she said today? Pigs would fly first?

That should annoy me. It doesn't. Frankly, it amuses the hell out of me. It's cute that she thinks she can withstand me. I know better. I saw the way she looked at me. Even if she doesn't want to admit it to herself, she's into me.

She damn sure didn't look at Corey the way she looked at me today. And if she meant what she said about never dating him because she's heard the press about him, then I have nothing to worry about on that front.

I briefly consider confronting him again, but there isn't really a point. I told him to fuck off after she stormed off today. He just laughed and asked if I was scared of a little competition. As if he'll ever be that.

"Pigs will fly," I murmur to myself, an idea forming.

She may kill me for it, but fuck it. If it gets her back to the arena sooner rather than later, it'll be worth it.

I open a new tab, grinning to myself.

She said pigs will fly. She never said how. And I'm nothing if not inventive.

Iknow the minute she storms into practice the next morning. Hell, the whole team knows. She isn't quiet about it. She's a petite hurricane, slamming the doors so hard, the boards rattle.

"What the fuck?" Harrison mumbles, glancing across the ice as she comes storming into view, her arms wrapped around a piñata.

"The fuck is that?" Chance asks, his brown eyes narrowed on the monstrosity in her arms.

"That's my genius at work. Be right back," I say, propping my stick against the boards before hauling ass in her direction. My skates cut across the ice, the sound familiar. My eyes are locked on her the entire time, picking out every little detail…like the fire in her gaze, the heat in her cheeks, and the way she hugs the piñata against her like she's prepared to use it as a weapon or a shield.

I clock Corey out of the corner of my eye, watching intently from the sidelines. But he's talking to Coach, and he can't exactly just walk away from that conversation. So he's not my problem right now.

The pretty little minx glaring daggers at me is, however.

I skate to a stop beside the boards right as she reaches them.

"You," she growls.

"I see you got my present," I say, smirking at her.

"Your present? Are you freaking kidding me, Phoenix?" she practically growls, trying to contain it in her arms. "You had a freaking piñata delivered to my office last night!"

"Mmhmm." I reach out, plucking a piece of delicate pink tissue paper from it. Honestly, I'm impressed with myself here. It actually looks like a flying pig, and I only had to spend an hour on the phone to make it happen. "You told me that you'd go out with me when pigs fly." I meet her gaze, grinning. "I believe this little guy flies, gorgeous. See? He even has wings."

"You…you…you…" she splutters, her cheeks bright pink.

"What's that? I can't hear you," I tease, unable to help myself.

"With help! It flies with help!" she cries, all but stomping her foot in frustration.

"You didn't specify rules or set guardrails, baby."

She splutters again and then, to my surprise, she actually laughs. It's a helpless, hopeless little laugh, like she doesn't know what else to do in the moment. But it's a laugh. And goddamn, it's beautiful. It lights up her whole face, softening her.

Does she have any idea how beautiful she is when she's laughing? Probably not. I'm guessing she's oblivious to how utterly captivating she is. But fucking hell, it's impossible not to see it.

There are always women around when you play at this level. And most of them want something, whether it's time, attention, fame, or money. They hang onto every word you say, acting like it's all fascinating. I've gotten good at ignoring them simply because I'm not interested in playing that game.