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I glance down at her and smirk. “Because he’s pissed. His adrenaline is spiked, probably for the first time tonight. He’ll fuck up. Then he’ll settle himself down.”
Hollyn squints up at me. “You sound like a know-it-all.”
“I do when it comes to hockey.”
“Yeah?”
My thumb brushes along her soft skin and falls off the edge of her jaw. “Yeah. You think I’m wrong?”
“Anyone can be wrong.”
“Bet.”
Her face softens. “What?”
“If Aiden scores or not on this next go. If you’re questioning my skills, Shorty, let’s make a bet.”
“I’d like to see that if he does,” she replies. “You know, to make sure he had.”
Little minx. So much for trusting me.
“Fine,” I agree. “But tell me what you want if you win first. And make it quick.”
The boys are on the other side of the ice now, and they’ll be back on the opposing side soon.
“Dinner.”
Of course, she wants food.
“Deal.”
I step back, permitting her the room she needs to turn around, but I don’t step out from behind her. I remain exactly where I am.
Too close.
And way too turned on right now.
The way her jeans are hugging her ass makes me want to bite down on my hand. She’s wearing a Boston Wildcats tee—the kids’ team—and I’m pretty sure it’s a kid size. It doesn’t leave anything to the imagination. Hollyn is an eleven all day, every day, and I can’t seem to ignore that anymore.
Leaning over her shoulder, I watch Matthew skate and take ownership of the puck. The smell of lemon and something floral filled my nose. “You didn’t ask me what I wanted.”
I swear she shudders a bit at how close I am. The thought makes my cock strain against the zipper of my jeans, and its nearly pushing into Hollyn’s ass. I don’t dare move now. I’m sporting a hard on the side of a damn eggplant right now.
“What do you want?” she inquires ever so softly. “No questions for an hour?”
“No.”
I want a lot of things.
Things I shouldn’t even begin to conjure up in my head, but they appear anyway.
I want her thighs spread open so I can figure out what she tastes like.
I want her legs wrapped around my waist as I take her lips again, pinning her up against the nearest wall.
I’d like to know every little thing that makes her shudder and moan. She’s like those books she reads. I want to keep flipping pages to know more about the character and the story and learn every mannerism I can.
“Then what?” she presses, craning her head to follow the game, moving to the other side of the arena.
