Page 2 of Well Played

No one. Certainly not this girl.

Lost in my head, I stared up at him and managed to swallow on a dry throat. “Huh?”

Solace smirked, though something impossibly darker flickered behind his eyes as he leaned closer. “You really don’t pay attention to the bullshit out there, do you?” he murmured, sweeping a hand almost triple the size of mine out to encompass the rest of the room where I still refused to look.

I didn’t want to see the faces that wouldn’t be looking down at me, anyway. Or worse, gawking back at the shitshow that was about to go down.

Heat climbed my throat, heading for my cheeks. I didn’t want to know where it originated, especially when this man had been the centre of too many late night fantasies that should never have been a part of my spank bank repertoire.

My fingers shook the tiniest fraction as I pushed my glasses back up my nose where they drooped. “I don't really fit in over there.” I matched his soft tone, unwilling to bring more attention my way, and doubly unsure why I bothered to engage him anyway.

This conversation wouldn't end well. For me, at least.

For Solace…I was just another girl he’d shrug off. I was certain he had puck bunnies flying out every orifice on a daily basis. Shoulders that could lift a small planet, abs to support that and all the accompanying pucking bits…I should know. I got to stare at all the promo shots on a daily basis and make sure everyone’s other bits–titles, names, and stats–were presented correctly.

Hell, I probably knew their numbers better than half the players.

“You’re right.” He didn’t straighten, still invading my space and continuing this godforsaken conversation that headed exactly nowhere. “You don’t fit in there.”

“Exactly. So. Work.” I let out a controlled breath and dropped my gaze back to my desk, shuffling my proofs out of order to give myself something to do because whatdida fangirl do when a hulking behemoth mountain of hockey sex god leaned over one’s desk?

Answer: shuffle the proofs like a Vegas card counter, and pray for absolution.

“Like I said, you’re sexier than all of them. Any one of them.” He refused to budge.

I bit my lip, squeezing my eyes shut. “I know you get whoever you want, Solace. I know you have loads of time in the middle of the day between training sessions, and Iknowyou work your ass off. Maybe you could, you know…let me do some of that last right now, too?” I bit back thepleasethat teetered on the tip of my tongue, because begging with this man seemed wrong. Dangerous.

His breath huffed against the back of my neck when he laughed softly. “This is what makes you sexy, Hallie. Unlike them, you understand what a work ethic is. It’s fucking beautiful.” His fingers trailed lightly along my spine to my nape beneath my shoulder length dark hair and rested there, thetouch hidden from sight to anyone else.Intimate.“Like you. This brain is the prettiest damn thing in here.”

I swallowed hard and made to push my chair back, but his bulk blocked me in. “Let me up,” I breathed. “We– I’m just the marketing pleb. I can’t do this. I’ll lose my job.”

“You can’t be told you’re beautiful?” He massaged my neck in gentle circles, the callouses and strength in his massive fingers belied by the sweetness of his touch.

My body ached for that. Craved it. I hadn’t had contact with another person, anyone actually, apart from my cat, since?—

Nope. Not going there.

“I have an aversion to puck bunnies.” That’s what fell out of my mouth as one of the WAGS headed in our direction. One without a flashy diamond ring on her finger, which, in my limited experience, was the most dangerous sort.

A black Chimera branded coffee mug stamped with her name that I forgot the moment I read it slammed down on my desk along with a few strands of bleached, split hair. “Coffee, honey. Black. Nothing in it. Just give me the dregs today. It’s all in the effort of…you know.” She shimmied at my desk while I tried not to look at her.

I sighed, pushed my proofs into an incomprehensible pile that would take half an hour after they all departed to sort back out, and grabbed the mug. “Sure, Cindy.”

She flared. “Mynameis–”

“She doesn’t care what your goddamn name is, Mindy,” Solace snapped, corded arms straining beneath his shirt as he towered over us both.

Cindy-Mindy preened while I cowered. If I played dead, he’d forget I existed, right?

Nope. The hand on the back of my neck tightened and drew me out of my slump. “Don’t you dare get up,” he growled at me darkly, then switched his attention forward, his tone hardening.“She’s not your fucking doormat. Go back and play with things at your own level,” he snapped at the WAG throwing her tits in his face.

I didn’t think she was attached to him, but then I never paid attention to the revolving door of the WAG squad anyway.

“Okay,” I breathed, unsure who I answered.

Cindy-Mindy huffed and flounced off, snatching her mug back from my hands and grazing me with her razored talons in the same lurid fuscia that lit her name in neon.

“Sit up,” Solace ordered.

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