Page 62 of The Bad Boy Rule

Saint: Did you… just refer to yourselves as a… BOY gang?

Bennett Legros: It is, ain’t it?

Bennett: You’re in right?

Bennett: Saint?

Tyler: Sigh.

I’m shoving my phone into the front pocket of my hoodie when I hear the heavy doors of the rink slam shut behind me.

Right on time, Golden Girl.

It’s been three days since the elevator, and it’s been radio silence. Not that we have a habit of texting when it’s not necessary, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about texting her after that kiss.

Ultimately, I decided not to because 1) it would be weird if I checked in on her.

Who the fuck amI, checking in?

And 2) I know her well enough to know that she’s as skittish as a stray, sometimes feral cat, and pushing her too far isn’t going to get me what I want.

I might not know everything about her, but Idoknow that.

So, I’m going to leave the ball in her court, and I’m not saying shit about it.

Not a fucking word.

We’ll play the longest cat-and-mouse game in history if that’s what it takes because I’m patient enough to wait it out. Especially when I know just how sweet the payoff will be.

I slap a puck into the net, then pick up another with the end of my stick and flick it up, catching it on the end. I toss it up a few times before snapping it into the net with the rest.

I hear the smooth glide of her blades when she hits the ice, and I slowly turn, my gaze sliding to her. My fingers tighten on my stick as I tamp down the groan.

Fuck, she looks good.

Another frilly little fucking skirt that gives just enough of a glimpse of her creamy thighs to have my mouth watering.

I swear she wears this shit solely to torture me. It’s even worse now that I’ve touched her, felt all of those soft, lush curves beneath my hands. Now I know what I’m missing.

As if she feels my eyes on her, she lifts her gaze but quickly drops it to the ice, tucking her long hair behind her ear. Even from halfway across the ice, I can still see her cheeks blazing.

Yeah, remember every fucking second of my hands on you. Fuck knowsIhaven’t stop thinking about it since it happened.

That’s exactly the reason she’s blushing like a schoolgirl the second she sees me.

I skate to the center line, the one she’s banished me behind. “Golden Girl.”

She looks up, crossing her arms over her chest. “Satan.”

I smirk, then turn and skate back to the net, scooping all the pucks out so I can work on more shots.

There’s a thick silence that lingers around the rink, with only the sound of me steadily slapping pucks into the net.

It’s so quiet that I almost think she’s left until I hear her let out an exaggerated huff.

“That’s it?” I hear from behind me. “No shit talking? No goading me until I’m ready to snap?”

Slowly, I swivel toward her, brow arched. “Youdidtell me to stay on my side of the ice, yeah? Just following directions like a good boy.” Her eyes widen in surprise. Guess that wasn’t the answer she was expecting. “Unless there’s somethingyouwanna talk about?”

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