Page 19 of Dirty Play

I look at her, and I hate the fact that my own damn brain can’t decide whether to hate her or fuck her. But then she blurts out a question that answers that.

“What happened with your parents?” The question reignites the anger in me.

I lean closer, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “If you think for a second that you can pry into my personal life, you’re mistaken.” I take a step closer, the space between us tightening.

“I don’t want to pry,” she says softly. “I want to help you.” I can see her hesitating, the fire in her eyes wavering as I lean down, my breath brushing against her skin.

Fuck, she smells so good.

“Help me help you, Rowan,” she adds, her big blue eyes staring up at me through long lashes. I take a step closer, making her take a step back, then another, until her small frame is pressed against the hallway wall.

“Help you how?” I ask softly, tilting my head. I can see her chest rising and falling as her breathing becomes shallow. Before I can think better, I lift my hand and take her chin between my thumb and pointer finger, lifting it. Her lips part in an attempt to suck in more air. “Are you hoping I’ll give you another reason to blackmail me?” I ask, keeping my tone soft. I watch her swallow hard, her large blue eyes wide as they meet mine.

“Rowan,” she protests, breathless.

“Look who’s cornered now.” I inch closer, her body almost brushing against mine. Her pupils dilate, her eyes darkening as she looks up at me. There it is. I fucking knew she feels it, too. I’ve had countless women look at me like that, and most often than not, they usually end up with my cock in their mouth.

“How does it feel?” I ask, keeping my gaze locked on hers.

The challenge ignites something else in her gaze, and I can feel the shift. She’s torn between anger and what I’m sure is arousal. I see the flush in her cheeks. I see it in her eyes, and fuck if I don’t want to reach down and feel it between her legs.

“Step away from me, Rowan,” she says finally, her voice deceivingly stern. “And cut the intimidation tactics.”

“Intimidation isn’t a goal of mine,” I murmur, my eyes dropping to her full lips. “But if you keep pushing, it might become one.”

Before I do something stupid, I push away from the wall and turn around as quickly as possible to hide what she’s just done to me. My dick strains against the fabric of my pants, begging for more room.

Fuck, something’s wrong with me.

The pool glints under the moonlight, calm and still. I sit at the edge of a lounge chair, scotch in hand, trying to let the burn of it calm me down. It doesn’t. My jaw clenches as I think about the interview, abouther, and the way she twisted my arm into sitting under those damn lights. The way she looked up at me. If I had any doubt before, I sure as hell don’t now. Whatever it is that I feel, now I know she feels it, too. And I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.

Damien is sprawled in the chair across from me, his legs stretched out, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. He’s swirling his drink, acting like we’re shooting the shit after practice instead of dissecting the disaster that happened today. Ares is silent by the pool’s edge, watching the water like it might tell him something the rest of us can’t see. His inked hands are stuffed in his pockets, but I know him well enough to know he’s listening. He’s always listening.

“She blackmailed me,” I finally say, the words sharp as shattered glass.

“No matter how many times you say it, it still sounds unbelievable.” Damien perks up, his grin widening.

“She twisted my damn arm,” I scoff, shaking my head.

That gets Ares’ attention. He turns, pale eyes narrowing as he takes a slow step closer.

“They asked about your parents.” His voice is low and even, but there’s something coiled in it. “She didn’t go through the questions beforehand?”

“She said personal questions aregood.” I shake my head, setting my glass down with more force than necessary. The word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “That’s why I don’t do this shit. It’s about hockey. It should always be about hockey.”

“She got you good, huh?” Damien whistles, leaning back in his chair. “Gotta give her credit, though,” Damien says, smirking again. “Takes guts to blackmail the captain.”

“Don’t,” I warn, my voice low.

“She’s just doing her job.” Damien chuckles, lifting his hands in mock surrender.

“She should do her job with someone else.” My voice cuts through the night like a blade. “She’s chaos, and if that’s herjob, I want her gone.”

“Then make it happen,” Ares says, his voice calm and cold as the water at his back.

I glance at him, frowning.

Ares steps closer, his expression unreadable under the shadow of his dark hair. “She signed a moral clause when she joined. They all do. No romantic relationships with players.”

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