Page 45 of Power Play

I like sex withDuke.

This is not a crime.

Though I wouldn’t be opposed to him whipping out a pair of pink, furry handcuffs. Just saying.

The parking lot is empty, save for a standard Ford F-150 parked near the entrance to the rink. And Duke, well, he’s leaning against it, with his ankles crossed and his hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans. Aviator sunglasses rest on the bridge of his nose, lending him a bad boy appeal that I find intriguing.

At the sight of me climbing out of my Prius, his naturally sullen mouth breaks into a grin and he kicks away from his truck to saunter over to my car. “You made it,” he says by way of greeting when he steps into my personal bubble and fills my senses with his familiar scent of pine.

I try not to inhale too deeply like a total weirdo.

Going for a flippant response, I pat his hard chest and murmur, “Why would I turn down the chance to whip your butt on the ice?”

His hands wrap around my elbows, pulling me close to him. “Honey, the only one whose butt is getting whipped today will be your own.”

My chin lifts and I make a show of staring him down past the bridge of my nose. “You sound so sure of yourself, Mr. Harrison.”

“Hard fact, Miss Denton.” His hands skip up to the base of my neck, his thumbs rubbing in little circles that urge a moan from my lips. “Don’t make me start listing off stats.”

“We’ll be here all day.”

“Exactly.”

Our gazes meet and, as if balancing on the same thread, we simultaneously lean in. Our lips touch in a soft caress, so much softer than the other night. But this kiss is no less potent. I wind my arms around his neck, hanging on, forcing him to drop his hands from my neck to my hips to hold me steady.

It’s the sort of kiss I used to dream about growing up. Lazy and easy, as though we are in no rush to head inside the rink and face off on the ice. But then Duke shifts ever so slightly and everything changes.

His tongue touches my bottom lip, seeking—no,demanding—entry, and I give it to him. Parting my lips on a sigh that he devours with a husky groan. Running my hands down the length of the corded muscles of his back. Tasting a hint of mint on his tongue.

The sound of a car door slamming to our right interrupts the moment, and Duke pulls back slowly. His mouth is swollen from our kiss, and something about that delights me like nothing else ever has.

After a moment, he clears his throat and rasps, “Obviously, you’re trying to wear me down.”

“For what?”

The grin he gives me is all sin. “You’re worried you’ll have to play dirty to win today. Still up to your games, I see, Charlie.”

“I’m all out of games,” I inform him with a flick of my ponytail. “Meet me on the ice and you’ll learn that first hand.”

He tips his head back and laughs, the deep, throaty laugh of a man who knows exactly what he wants. I’m not sure that the answer will be me a month from now, or even a week from now, but he catches my hand in his and leads me to the rink’s entrance.

For now, I’m content just with this.

The guy at the front desk immediately recognizes Duke, and his placid customer service facial expression morphs into hero-worship. It’s a little sickening, the way that Duke causes men and women to forget their own names. But, then again, he also makes me forget that I shouldn’t hop into bed with a man I’ve known for less than two weeks.

So, am I really any better than . . . I squint at the guy’s nametag. Sam. Let’s face it: Sam and I are two peas in a pond.

The only difference being that I know what it’s like to see Duke come undone in orgasm.

It’s a sight I want to see again, soon.

“Hey, my man,” Sam gushes, a warm blush roasting his cheeks. “You ready for tomorrow’s game against Toronto?”

Duke’s smile slips a little. “As ready as I can be,” he says in the same tone that I recall from our double date. The bland,I’m-giving-nothing-awaytone that truly is impenetrable.

Is he still upset after his loss against the Red Wings?

Sam rattles away, oblivious to Duke’s mood shift. “You’re gonna obliterate them. Man, I wish I was gonna be at the game tomorrow. It’s gonna be one for the books, a wicked good game.” He pauses while lifting our skates to the counter, as well as two hockey sticks. “Any chance you have a ticket laying around like last time? That was cool of you.”

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