Page 33 of Pucking Sweet

“Iamfinished,” he replies.

I lower my leg to the mats. “Good. Then get lost, Sanford.”

Now it’s his turn to cross his arms in his long-sleeved Rays staff shirt. “Try again.”

I sigh. I can’t possibly take them both on at once. “Look, give us a minute, and I’ll buy you dinner for the next week.”

“You’re still missing something.” He raises a brow, waiting.

“Please,” I grit out.

With a nod to Poppy, he walks away, leaving me alone with this feral puma in a pantsuit.

“Well?” I say at her.

“Well, what?” she says back.

I face her, arms crossed. In my pads and skates, I tower over her.Good. I have a feeling I’ll need the extra inches. “You were about to explain how saying my head is lodged up my ass is proof of you respecting me. Go on, I’m listening,” I say with a wave of my gloved hand.

She glares up at me. “Where are the contracts, Lukas? That’s all I came to ask.”

Behind her, the fans cheer and slap the glass, trying to get my attention. But all I see is her—the point of her chin as she holds my gaze, the determined look in her eyes. She’s wearing more makeup tonight. Her eyes look dark and smoky, which just makes the blue of her irises pop more. They’re like sea glass, all shiny and reflective under these brightarena lights.

Fuck me. She’s devastating.

And a real fucking ball-buster.

“I sent you the contracts on Sunday night,” I reply. “I wasn’t sure if you got them, seeing as you never responded. I think the proper form is to provide an email as proof of receipt. But then, what do I know? I’m just a dumb horndog hockey player whom you don’t respect.”

“See?” She waves erratically with her phone-wielding hand. “This isexactlywhat I’m talking about. You’re not taking any of this seriously. By extension, you’re not takingmeseriously. I’m trying to help you, Lukas. But you’re refusing to accept my help, and instead you’re turning everything I say on its head, making yourself the victim.”

Okay, now she’s getting under my skin. “I sent you the contracts,” I say again. “You wanted signed sex contracts? You got them.”

“Oh, really?” Her indignation in this moment could fuel a small city. It’s certainly giving me life. “You expect me to believe you had sex with Diana Prince this weekend? In what universe do you really think you could ever pull Wonder Woman?”

“Hey, I thought you said you weren’t here to judge me,” I snap back. “No questions either. It’smysex life, Poppy.”

“It’s yourdelusion,” she hisses, those blue eyes narrowing as she steps closer. “And for your information, Snow White was canonically fourteen years old, which makes you apervert.”

And now I’m laughing. “What do you want me to say, Poppy?”

“Admit the names are fake,” she cries.

“Of course they’re fake.”

“Then give me the real contracts!”

I shrug indifferently. “There are no real contracts.”

She blinks up at me, eyes wide. “What?”

I crouch, getting myself right in her face. “There are no contracts,” I say again, enunciating each word.

Her mood shifts as she leans away. I watch her slender throat as she swallows. “You didn’t? I mean, you…” And now she’s blushing. God, it’s fucking precious.

“Didn’t fuck a rotating door of nameless, faceless women this week?” I finish for her. “Nope. Sorry to disappoint. I was a little preoccupied with, oh, I don’t know, my job? Season starters are no joke, Poppy. We were about to spend two weeks on the road, and I neededto conserve all my energy for the ice. Sorry I couldn’t indulge your twisted curiosity about my sex life.”

She gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. “Mytwisted—”

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