Page 2 of War

Her legs are bare and pale, and when she spins back toward the mirrored wall and strides to her phone, where the music is playing from, her mesh skirt sways. Beneath it, her leotard barely covers her ass.

Damn. I can’t help but eat up every beautiful inch of her.

Without hesitating, I advance, coming right up behind her. Before I can get a closer look at just how perfect her curves are, though, she spins.

Lips pursed, she gives me a pointed glare. “Do you need something?”

Oh, I need so many things right now, but I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate any of the ideas filtering through my mind. “Your name would be a good start.”

I smile down at her. I’ve been told I have a bad boy smile. Apparently, it makes it nearly impossible for women to resist giving me what I want, and right now, what I want is my head between this one’s thighs. Her innocent, doe-eyed expression be damned. If she’s bold enough to wear a leotard that revealing, I have to believe this attitude is an act.

“See something you like?” she asks, calling me out on my obvious inspection.

I run my thumb across my bottom lip, smile still in place. “Very much so.”

She blinks those big green eyes of hers in shock, like she didn’t expect that answer. Like maybe she’s surprised she even spoke to begin with. Like I dragged the words out of her. I like that idea a little too much. Softly, she adds, “I don’t do this.”

“Share your name with people you’ve just met?” I scratch the back of my neck. “Do you not like it? That’s okay. I’m really good with nicknames. Give me a minute, and I’m sure I can come up with a good one.”

She coughs out a surprised, almost derisive laugh. “Does this normally work for you?”

Smirking, I nod and take another step closer. The pull to her is impossible to resist. She smells so fucking good. Like ice cream. I’m about to lick her to see if she tastes as sweet.

Lowering my head to catch her eye, I say. “My name’s Tyler. Now it’s your turn.” I splay a hand on the mirror beside her head, staring her down, waiting for her response. I keep my other arm at my side, giving her more than enough room to escape. But though she wears a confused frown, she doesn’t look uncomfortable.

To be honest, I’m confused too. Just getting her name is proving harder than getting into most women’s pants.

“Wasn’t aware that I asked for it,” she tosses back. Her hand goes to her lips like she’s surprised that sass slipped out. I liked it though. Like that I’m getting to her. There’s probably something fucked about that.

My eyes skate down her body and I take in every curve. She’s so small in comparison to me. Dainty. That’s what my mother would say. Pocket-sized. I think I’d like to keep her.

“Like I said,” she enunciates, dragging my attention back to her face. There’s a raspiness to her voice that makes my dick jump. “I don’t do this.” She motions between us with her finger.

I lick my lips, tempted to nip at that digit. “Don’t do what?”

“One-night stands.”

I arch a brow, considering my response.

“Or,” she adds before I can formulate a single word, “publicsex?” She says the last word like the thought has just occurred to her. Like she’s spewing thoughts as they flit through her mind. This time she’s the one lifting a brow as she whispers, “Is that what you’re after?”

There’s no stopping the laugh that rips from deep inside my chest. Fuck, it feels good. When I stepped into the gym, I was angry, ready to beat the shit out of the bag. But that one laugh has tension easing in my shoulders, and I feel lighter than I have in far too long.

Dipping lower, I murmur, “Have dinner with me.”

Her cranberry-colored lips tip up into a smile. “What?”

“Have dinner with me. You don’t do one-night stands, and I want to get to know you.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you after dinner.” Eyes narrowed, she studies me like she expects this to be a deal-breaker.

Normally it would be. I don’t date. Hockey is my life. I have no room for women. They normally need more attention than I’m capable of giving. But, strangely, I want to give this woman my attention. She may look like a beautiful, innocent angel, but she’s a vicious little thing. I can sense it hovering just below the surface. She’ll put me in my place, keep me on my toes, and make me work for every little piece of her.

Yes, I want this woman.

Nothing in my life has ever come easy. More than once, I’ve been told that all I’m good for is letting people down. But maybe I can prove those people wrong. Maybe I’ll look back one day and realize that this was the moment everything changed. The moment I finally got it right.

“Have dinner with me anyway.”

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