Page 52 of Santa's Mistletoe Playbook

I waited until she was a half flight up. “You know I’m going to look.”

“Yeah, but I still called it.”

“Fair point.” I kicked the snow from my boots and jogged after her. “So, where are we going, oh Blackstone guide?”

“Not to my dorm. But you can help me write that article about Rippton’s King of lacrosse.” She threw me a cheeky grin over her shoulder and pushed a door open. “Welcome to my office.” Her hand waved across a collection of desks stuffed into a small space as she leaned on one as full of messy papers as the rest.

“Why do I think you don’t mean me?” I let the door click softly behind me as I slipped in right after her, and flicked the lock.

Predictably, she jumped and spun on the spot. “Dylan–”

“It’s not like we’re going anywhere in this,” I waved at the window behind her that showed a field of smudged white with a few shadows in between. “And while I just wanna flirt with yoursassy ass, I also wanna make sure my sister and her kids are okay.”

“She’s your sister,” Trin mumbled.

My phone was already in my hand when I registered what she said. “You little stalker.” I sent the message while my mind whirled, catching up.

“No, I mean–” she coughed, hugely fake, but I let it slide. “I saw you with her. And another girl, earlier.”

“Sister, ex. One night stand. Not both the same people,” I offered a cautious caveat. “You knew who I was before I crashed into you.”

And you still pretended to get my name wrong.

She didn’t deny it. “Maybe I wanted to interview the infamous Dylan Mountforth.”

“Maybe you wanted to date the infamous Dylan.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Or were you there to pick my brain on training schedules now the team’s picked up this season, and is actually a threat to Blackstone.”

Her silence said everything.

I shucked my jacket onto the back of a chair tucked behind an overloaded desk. “So, Trinity Westwood, sports reporter. Who are you dating on the lacrosse team? Lachlan?” Their captain? I paused and gave it thought. No, I was fairly sure their golden boy batted for the other team, so it wasn’t him. “Coach? Got some daddy issues to work out?”

“No,” she laughed at that, and it didn’t sound forced.

I circled her a second time, trailing my fingers along the edge of her jacket. “Take this off.”

She didn’t spin around, only turned her head as much as needed to hold my gaze. “Why?”

“Because it’s fucking soaked, and you’ll get sick.”

“Fine.” She threw her coat off, and a jacket under that, leaving her in jeans, boots and a navy, long sleeved Henley that clung to every delicious curve on her body.

And man, did those curves go on and on.

I swallowed hard, letting my gaze roam over her, wishing I could follow the same path with my tongue. “Tell me who you’re dating on the team.”

“Why?” Her chin lifted definitely.

I caught her jaw cleanly between my fingers. “Because I wanna know who you’re gonna call and break up with so I can fuck you without looking for a knife in my back while I’m balls deep in your perfect, hot little pussy.”

Her lips parted on a shocked gasp at my dirty talk, her pupils blown wide.

She likes that.

I filed the information away for a little later.

“I’m not dating anyone,” she whispered. “Lachlan is my step brother. He– he asked me to pick your brain.”

“Did he?” I twisted her hair in my fingers, pulling her back against my front and wound an arm around her waist. “What else did your brother ask for?”

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