Page 10 of Dirty Play

“Why not?” Cade asks, his deep voice echoing through the noise in the bar, sending tingles down my spine and straight to my lady bits.

“I’ve been working. The hospital has basically become my second home,” I say, glancing around and spotting our friends on the dance floor. Everyone dispersed from our table, leaving Cade and me alone, and I can’t help but wish we were out there, too. I wish I could feel his hands on my body again—his body pressed to mine while our friends surround us as they dance.

Fuck, it’s so tempting, but I still can’t bring myself to be bold and tell him exactly what I want from him.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. The rink is my life, and I love it.”

“The difference is that my job doesn’t help me get laid, quite the opposite actually. Your job, on the other hand, seems to be pretty damn helpful when it comes to helping you get your dick wet,” I joke.

His eyes widen in shock, but he just grins.

“Do you think about me getting my dick wet often?” he whispers, his gravelly voice making me even more turned on. He takes a sip of his drink and watches me like he didn’t just ask me if I think about him fucking other women.

“I mean… don’t you guys usually have girls throwing themselves all over you after every game? What are they called? Puck bimbos?”

“Bunnies,” Cade replies with a smirk, his thumb brushing against his lip, his eyes bouncing down to my mouth, and I can’t help it, I stare back.

“Yeah, that’s what it is. Puck Bunnies. I bet they go crazy over a guy like you,” I say, waving my hand at him.

“A guy like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re one of the best goalies in the league, more saves than anyone else this year, and you’re all hot and shit. Girls go crazy for hot athletes, all the muscles and veins, hell, even the sweat. Mix that with the adrenaline that comes from watching you play? It’s fucking delicious,” I reply, not missing the twinkle in his eyes at my words, even if he doesn’t smile.

“So, you’re saying you think I’m hot?” Cade says playfully.

“Oh, shut it, Williams. That’s like asking if water is wet.”

“That’s a serious debate, Tink. Bad example,” he says with a wink.

I clench my thighs at the sight, the ache in my core intensifies by the second, and it feels like I’m a simple graze away from coming in the middle of this bar.

I just glare, which makes him chuckle. The banter with Cade when he’s in this playful mood is always my favorite, especially when I get to act like a brat because I love watching his eyes flare. But it only makes him broodier, usually. Tonight, it’s making him more possessive, like he’s almost daring me to test him.

I’m just worried if I do it, it’ll all be for nothing. I really don’t want to deal with that disappointment, especially because I’m tired of buying batteries to get my orgasms. I’m due for some fun with an actual man—one who actually knows what the hell he’s doing—so I swallow down my nerves as I stand up and drain the last of my margarita.

“I’m going to go dance,” I announce, the tequila going straight to my head as Cade watches me, his eyes on my cleavage. It’s been ages since I’ve dressed up for a night out, and the confidence I feel in this outfit, with this man's eyes on me, makes me feel sexier than I have in ages.

Scrubs don’t exactly scream ‘fuck me’ unless you watch Grey’s Anatomy.

“Let’s go then,” Cade growls from his seat, but he doesn’t move.

“To dance?” I question, turning back to Cade as he stands up and makes his way around our table, toward me.

His face has turned to stone; his jaw clenched, while he watches the dance floor. I can see the apprehension in his eyes—the fight he’s constantly in to let go, let himself have a night full of fun. But the moment his eyes are back on mine, I can tell he’s cracked.

“Yes, to dance, Gwen. If you want to dance, it’s with me. There’s not a chance in hell I'm letting you go out there to dance with those guys. They are drunk little boys who aren’t allowed to fucking touch you.”

“And you are?” I ask, unable to stop myself from grinning. “I mean, I thought that broke one of those silly little rules you made. You know, the rules that keep you from touching me like we both know you desperately want to.”

The second the words are out of my mouth, I know I’ve won.

“Fuck,” Cade growls before grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the dance floor. His warm hand grips my own firmly as he slides us between others, more smoothly than I'd expect him to be at six-foot-four. When we finally make it to our group, Sawyer turns and winks at me before Rex spins her back into him, not wanting to share her attention.

The first few songs that play are more upbeat, clubby songs, and we end up all dancing as a group before splitting up as the music gets slower. I thought it would be awkward out on the dance floor with Cade, with our friends watching and all, but it doesn’t feel awkward. It feels normal.

It helps that he’s not weird about any of it, except fully touching me, which is getting annoying.

“Are you saving room for Jesus, or are you just that afraid to touch me?” I say as I watch him standing in front of me. He has his hands on my hips, but he’s making sure there’s still space between us.

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