Page 12 of Pucking Dirty

He gently grabs my wrist, pulling my hand to his lips to kiss my palm. "Me too," he says simply before settling my hand in my lap.

I watch as he slams the door and then circles around the truck before climbing in beside me. He's…tense in a way he wasn't before I brought up his parents.

"I'm not going to ask you to talk about them if that's what you're worried about over there," I murmur, trying to reassure him. "This isn't a visit in my office to talk about your feelings. You don't owe me answers, Nash."

"I appreciate that." He glances over at me, his expression still clouded. "I don't mind talking about them. The way we lost them fucking sucks, but it's always nice to remember them. Mostpeople are afraid to even bring them up around me. The only time I ever hear about them is from reporters." His lips pull down into a frown. "I'm just trying to figure out what the fuck the rules are here."

I hate that reporters are the only ones who talk about his parents. But I kind of love that he's just as confused by all of this as I am. A week ago, I was determined to stay away from him. Now? Well, it's not so simple. My willpower has been slowly eroding all damn week. Seeing him in the bar tonight wiped out whatever little bit remained.

I like him, far more than is good for him. Judging by the way he acts with me, I'm not the only one who feels the insane pull between us. But this is foreign territory for both of us.

So…maybe we say screw the rules and make our own.

"Um, I think we broke the rules about four exits ago," I tease to lighten the mood.

His lips lift slightly, one brow winging toward his hairline as he starts his truck. The engine rumbles to life, vibrating the entire cab. "Pretty sure we broke them as soon as we met, Emilia."

"True. You did kidnap me from a locker room at the speed of light."

"You're working hard on that revisionist history, I see."

"Glad you noticed my effort."

His smile grows, banishing the shadows from his eyes as he puts the truck in reverse, backing out of his spot. I watch him out of the corner of my eye for several minutes before I feel compelled to speak again.

"Since we broke the rules already, how about we ditch the rest of the rulebook, and make our own?" It's not a novel concept, but it is a dangerous one. If my dad finds out anything about this, he's going to lose his proverbial shit. It doesn't matter that I'm twenty-four. He's still my father. He's also Nash's boss forall intents and purposes. And he's rungs above me on the ladder around here, too. This could end in disaster.

"What are your rules, baby girl?" Nash asks, cutting his eyes at me.

I think quickly, not entirely sure I have any. At least none I'm not willing to let him break.

"No more doing what we did tonight," I decide.

A growl of displeasure rumbles from his side of the truck.

"Oh! I don't mean the stuff in the hall. Definitely do more of that.Pleasedo more of that. I meant the whole making a public spectacle thing," I quickly clarify. "We need to at least try to be professional when we're at the arena. I don't want to be labeled as a puck bun–" I break off, wrinkling my nose. "Have I mentioned yet how much I dislike that term?"

"Puck bunny?"

"Yes!" I cry. "Bunnies are prey. They're innocent little creatures hunted by predators. Hockey players aren't predators, and the women who sleep with them aren't prey. I know it's meant to be an insult, but it's honestly kind of infantilizing in a way not intended, as if they're not fully involved in their decisions to sleep with hockey players."

He glances over at me again. "What would you call them?"

"Sexually liberated women hockey players like to fu–"

"Do not finish that sentence," he growls, making me laugh.

"You asked."

"I regret it already."

I fall back against the seat, smirking at him. "I don't remember what we were talking about now."

"You were telling me how you don't want to be labeled a sexually liberated woman a hockey player likes to fuck," he says, deadpan.

"Just one, huh? Smooth, Whatley. Very smooth."

"Didn't even have to try." He shoots me another look as we roll through a green light. "I hate everyone you've ever seen naked."

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