Page 63 of The Bad Boy Rule

“Nope. All good.”

Bullshit.

Tossing her a smirk, I give her a salute and turn to the net yet again, going back to my drills. I make a point not to glance over at her a single time. But I feel her eyes on me, can practically feel how badly she wants me to bring up what happened, but I won’t.

The hour passes quickly after I finally push out all of the distraction and lock in, and by the time I’m done, I’m fucking drenched, and my muscles are screaming.

I’ve got work tonight, another shift I picked up so I can somehow pay the rent. Even though I’m exhausted and need to catch up on sleep, there’s no other choice.

A few more shifts should take care of it, but fuck, they’re dragging on.

Hopping off the ice, I sink down onto the bench and quickly take off my skates, tossing them into my bag.

Since I need to head straight to Tommy’s from the rink, I gotta take a quick shower in the locker room because I smell pretty fucking foul.

There have been more times than I can count that I’ve opted for a shower at the rink instead of going home, avoiding my father at all costs. Sometimes it feels like I live out of a bag between the school, the rink, and Tommy’s.

I push through the doors and head for the shower stall, hanging my hockey bag on the hook before shedding my sweat-soaked clothes and stepping beneath the freezing spray.

The quick equivalent of an ice bath.

I should probably roll my hips and quads because they’re already hurting, but I’ll have to do it after work, maybe before I finally crawl my exhausted ass into bed.

After washing my hair and body, I turn the water off and grab a towel from the cabinet, quickly drying off.

With the towel knotted around my waist, I walk back out into the locker room, my hair still dripping from the shower, when the door suddenly flies open, and Lennon breezes in.

“You’re not attracted to me,” she blurts, hands on her hips, eyes dropping to the towel before she hitches a breath and drags her gaze back to mine.

My brow arches. “You asking or telling me? Unclear.”

“I mean… Are younotattracted to me? I-…is that why you’re pretending that Saturday didn’t happen?”

“Who said I’m pretending it didn’t happen?” I lean back against the counter in front of the mirrors, curling my fingers around the edge as I stare back at her.

“You haven’t brought it up at all, and you’re not being your normal asshole self.”

I chuckle darkly, satisfaction rippling through me. I fucking knew it.

“Yeah, and neither did you.”

For a second, she’s quiet. Her mouth opens, then snaps shut before she says, “Well… now I am.”

I push off the counter and prowl toward her, stopping when I’m towering above her tiny frame. “Now you are.” I dip my head to her ear. “Do you need a reminder about how hard I was beneath your hot little pussy? Does that answer your question about whether I’mattractedto you?”

She has no goddamn clue about all the filthy, disgusting shit I want to do to her body.

How out of my fucking mind that one small, very innocent by my standards moment has driven me in the last three days.

I pull back and look down at her, cataloging the way a rough swallow slides down her delicate throat, how her lips part, the way those bright green eyes flare like wildfire.

“God, I can’t eventhinkwhen you’re around.” She takes a step back and then another and another until she’s colliding with the wall behind her. “Stay over there.”

Am I going to listen? Probably not.

I smirk. “Why are you here, Golden Girl?”

“I… It was our ice time.”

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