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Cutter starts to laugh and I jerk around to face him, holding up a finger as my entire body vibrates with my overwhelming pulse. Turns out, I’m not alright with losing this bet. This was stupid. Bad idea, Laney. Bad idea!
“Two out of three!” It’s a lame plea, and the minute I say it Cutter pauses his laugh to catch his breath and stares me right in the eyes.
“Oh, Laney. You were so close!” His boastful grin infuriates me.
“Yeah, I was. And I didn’t get any practice. I don’t play this sport and look how close I was. You wouldn’t last a second on the other side of the net from me, and you know it. The least you can do is give me two out of three. That one was my practice shot.”
A flash of my youth rushes through my mind. My dad used to practice serving with me in our backyard, and he’d set up trashcans for me to try to get the ball into. I’d always beg for two out of three when I missed the first. And he always gave in. He used to show up for me. My lip sneers with my steaming emotions and from the memory and bad feelings I harbor.
“I tell you what. I’ll let you have two out of three. But that’s my final offer. And next bet is on your court. I bet I’d do better with your serve than you think.” He leans on his stick and lifts one side of his perfectly handsome mouth, which morphs his square jaw that exposes the tendon along his neck. I may have stared at his profile while he slept and admired those sharp lines.
“Okay. Final terms. I agree. And you bet your ass we’ll be taking things to my court.” My nostrils flair with my fury. I feel the stretch. It’s a characteristic I’ve had my entire life. My momsays I used to do it when I was a baby and she took away my pacifier.
I shut my eyes and take a cleansing breath, letting the air out slower this time, trying to clear away my fear and that little insult that Cutter could possibly live on my level in volleyball. When I open my eyes, I give him a sideways look and find him looking on with an amused smile.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
His lopsided smile twitches as he rests his chin on his folded hands and leans into his hockey stick.
“You’re cute when you’re pissed off.” He shrugs a shoulder, which makes him look cute too. But I keep that to myself.
“Careful, Cutter. Sounds like you might be catching feelings.” I situate myself behind the puck to take a shot at the goal. When I glance back at him, he’s still wearing the same wicked, crooked grin. I lift a questioning brow.
“There are many kinds of feelings, Laney. Go ahead and take your shot and then maybe I’ll show you the kind I’ve got right now.”
Oh.
I somehow manage to keep my mouth shut, though my jaw has mentally dropped. I’m definitely thrown, but I also don’t want Cutter thinking he hasthatmuch power, so I roll my eyes at him and turn my focus on the puck. I visualize my attempt and even give myself a few slow-motion practice hits before nudging my way up to line up my shot. I’m like a sniper, breathing only through my nose until holding my breath completely before letting it all go and sending the puck to the same goddamned exact spot as last time. With the same fucking result.
“Oh no.” I’m left without more to say as I stare intently at the tiny one-inch-by-one-inch spot where my luck ran out. Why did I gamble this big? Why did I like it? Ugh, and I still kind of likethe feeling in my tummy. Especially as Cutter skates closer, and finally puts his hand on top of my stick.
“I can’t believe I missed.”I totally can believe I missed.
His mouth twitches, like it’s aching to grin out an “I told you so.”
My eyes flutter out of sheer panic, and my breath hitches as Cutter brings his other hand up toward the side of my face. My chin lifts, half in defiance and half in preparation. Cutter slips the hoodie from my head, but his palm or fingers never graze my cheek. My skin rushes with the strangest sensation, almost as if my face wants to be touched—needs to be. Cutter leans in and drops his mouth to my ear, and I suck in an audible breath again.
“Oh, Laney. Don’t you remember the terms? I get to kiss you anywhere I want. And I don’t want to kiss you here, Laney. Not in this arena,” he hums, edging back enough to look me in my eyes. I’m quivering. “And not on these lips,” he adds, grazing his thumb across the bottom of my mouth before skating backward and dishing out a downright sinister laugh.
Sinister, and sexy as hell.
8/
cutter
I’m not thinking clearly.Obviously. There are so many things that could go wrong with heading down this path. Laney and I could get messy. Notfeelingskind of messy, but just . . . messy. I’ve got too much going on in my life to get into a relationship, which is why this stupid room bet was never an issue for me. But roommates with benefits is damn tempting. And more than that, it blurs the lines and seems to be warming Laney up to me. Which really, if I can get through senior year—my last year on the ice before, hopefully, I go pro—without another firestorm of shade thrown my way from Laney Price, well, that’s the best prize of all.
I don’t really care if I win the bet and she moves out. She can stay here with me for the next eight months for all I care. If I have a roof over my head, I’m happy, and honestly, she’s not a terrible roommate. She’s definitely a neat freak, with maybe a thing or two to teach me in that department. We basically thrive on the same schedule and gym habits. And as long as she isn’t plotting to stab me in my sleep or pour bleach into my shampoo, which I don’t think she would do, but then again? Maybe if she and Ivy were left alone? Drunk girls night? I glance to my bottle in the shower. Shaking those thoughts off, I squeeze a smallhandful of shampoo into my palm then lather up my hair. No bleach smell. I sigh out in relief.
I’m not afraid of falling for her. But a distraction? Yeah, I can see myself getting awfully distracted. Laney Price is a beautiful woman. But it’s that competitive fire that makes her sexy. And today, on the ice, that fire was fierce.
We didn’t bring up the kiss again on the drive home. We hardly talked at all, and she sat on the couch in the living room with her big headphones on and her nose in a book for most of the night. I offered her some of the chicken I made for dinner, but she shook it off. The girl ate cereal instead, and I know it’s because I threw her with that comment. I think shewantsto be kissed. And something about that excites the hell out of me.
I rinse out my hair and shut the water off, then wrap a towel around my waist and head into our room to find Laney lying on the bed in those same mini-shorts that got me going last night. Her ass is on full display, and the visual of my handprint on one of those cheeks perks up my dick. She’s doing this on purpose, but you know what? Two can play at this game. And I have absolutely zero inhibitions.
Her book propped on her pillow and chin in her hands, Laney didn’t hear me walk in thanks to the headphones she’s still wearing. I’m able to cross right into her periphery, on her “half” of the room, where we agreed I was allowed to get inside the closet. It’s where my laundry basket is.
I bend my body to the side to catch her view and she slides one of the earpieces away to hear me.
