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I’m insane.
Deciding that showing him who he is messing with is a good idea, I send the puck through his open legs, and then I go into him with all my might. But he’s a solid fucking wall, and instead of knocking him on his ass, I fall hard on mine.
And at that moment, I miss my girdle like a normal girl misses her phone.
With a loud laugh, he turns, taking the puck and ignoring me laid out on the ground before shooting with ease off the damn pipe. Reaching for the puck, he turns and grins at me.
With a nod as I get up, he says, “I like your tenacity, so yeah, I’ll fuck ya.”
“Oh my God! Let me rip my clothes off now! Fuck you, and give me the damn puck,” I say, and like I wanted, he passes the puck to me, and I take it to the line as my ass aches in pain.
“Aww, someone is getting angry!” he teases, his eyes playful, but he isn’t joking. He wants to get under my skin, he wants to beat me, but it will be a cold day in fucking hell before that happens. He has just made it so it’s my life’s mission to ruin him. To cut him down to size.
“Jayden, that’s enough. Leave her be,” I think Jace calls out.
“Yeah, man, this is getting to be a little bit too much,” Jude says.
“Y’all are just fueling her hate-fire,” Delanie says.
“Yeah, she lives for this shit,” Mandie says, expelling a breath. “I think we should go cook.”
“Hell no, this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” Jace says.
“For sure,” Jude agrees, but they are the least of my worries.
Jayden fucking Sinclair is public enemy number one.
Coming to me, his grin is unstoppable and his eyes are burning into mine, but I won’t let him get one up on me. He isn’t even that cute.
“I don’t know if you realize, but I’m winning.”
“Noted,” I say, glaring as I arch to the left, stretching out my hip, hoping to relieve some of the pain.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I look at him and my glare deepens. “Like you care.”
He smiles. “Ah, that coul
d be debated, you know.”
I meet his gaze and I can see the concern in his eyes. His eyes leave mine, doing a slow ride down my body until he stops at my knee. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’ll live.”
“True,” he says with a nod. “But will you win?”
“Yeah,” I basically growl and then I go, the hate-fire fueling me as I push by him, pushing his stick away as I rush the goal. He comes to block me, but I drop the puck back to my skate, and this is the reason I hate roller so damn much. The road isn’t as smooth as it is when you’re on ice, and the damn puck doesn’t slide the way I want it to. Thankfully, I have control and I surprise him and me as I throw my hip into his groin. When he groans loudly, I whip around him, going back on my right leg, shooting the puck against the pipe.
I don’t cheer. I don’t even look at him. Some could consider that a cheap shot.
I don’t though.
Taking the puck, I send it to him as he glares at me. “Cheap shot, Moore.”
“Move your dick,” I suggest with a shrug.
He scoffs. “It’s just so big, though.”
