Page 52 of Power Play

I can’t figure out the rules, but I think Emmy is kicking his ass. Judging from the grin on his face, though, he’s damn happy to lose.

“Allergic to the ice?” a deep voice draws out, and I smile when I notice Liam standing in front of me.

“Something like that,” I say. “Taking a break?”

“Yeah. Playing keep away with Riley’s nieces is kicking my ass. Those girls are ruthless.”

“They should meet Emmy.”

“I’m going to tap her in and let her do a few rounds with them.” He rests his stick on the boards and lifts the hem of his practice jersey, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the shirt that boasts his number. 32. “She’s probably faster than me.”

“She’s definitely faster than you.”

His smirk tells me he knows I’m right. “Why aren’t you you socializing with everyone? This whole thing seems like your kind of scene. People. Talking. Loud noises.”

I thought our first time talking one-on-one after he kissed me into oblivion the other night would be awkward, but it’s so natural. Like we’re two best friends shooting the shit, and I don’t feel uncomfortable at all.

Nothing’s changed, and it makes me so happy he’s not going to treat me any differently after I orgasmed on his couch.

“You’re having the time of your life, aren’t you?” I tease.

“What gave it away?”

“Your scowl tells me you think this is ablast. I’m not socializing with everyone because I don’t know how to skate.”

“You don’t? Have you been on the ice before?”

“Once. It didn’t end well.”

Liam hums and doesn’t ask for more details. “Do you want to learn?”

“That’s okay. I’m perfectly content up here.”

“I’ll do a couple laps with you. It’ll be a nice breather from having my ass handed to me by seven-year-olds.”

“That’s not the compliment you think it is, Sullivan.”

“Wasn’t meant to be a compliment, Mitchell.” His mouth twists into a small smile. “Come on, Pipsqueak.”

“It could be hazardous. You could fall. What if I dislocate your shoulder and you can’t play? I’d feel so guilty.”

“I leg press double your bodyweight at practice, Piper. Unless you’re planning to turn into the Hulk, you’re going to have to work very hard to pull me down.”

Reporters for rival teams call him a brick wall for good reason. His broad shoulders, cut biceps and supposedly legs of steel tell me he’d be nearly impossible to throw off kilter.

My brain comes up with an image of Liam lifting me up. Throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me down a never-ending hallway without exerting an ounce of energy.

A hand on my thigh that slips under my clothes.

The other on my ass, squeezing.

The fantasy is hot.

Sensual enough for me to press my thighs together and swallow down the lump in my throat in an attempt to get the thought out of my head.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me?” I ask.

“No. But I won’t laugh loud enough for you to hear.”

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