Page 13 of Face Off
My smile widens as I zone back into her face. “You can’t seriously think you’ll be able to train me and keep up with me in those, do you?”
“Sure do,” she challenges.
Feisty. Never in my life have I ever been challenged by a woman. Most men would be completely turned off but me, I’m anything but turned off. I’m hot and want more of this woman—more of her challenges.
She purses her lips, narrowing her eyes at me before skating over to grab her hockey stick. “You’re doubting me. I’ll make you a deal. If you can prevent me from scoring a goal—I’ll go change my skates and let you control your sessions.” Easy. “However, if you don’t, the skates stay, and you listen to everything I say.”
Amusement crosses my face, my lips tilting into a cocky smirk. There’s no way she’ll get past me. Especially in skates where the blades are too long and have a toe pick. Her turns will be all off.
She skates away from me, stick in hand, dribbling the puck toward center ice. I focus on her ass, envisioning her skating in nothing but that little black thong.Stop it,I inwardly scold myself as I refocus on the task at hand. There’s a hint ofdetermination in her eyes. She’s up for the challenge. I like that. And that fire burning within her has my cock hard as a rock.
Get it together, man,I grumble to myself, adjusting the growing bulge pressing against my jock before skating to meet her at the circle.
“Show me what you got then, sweetheart.”
Shit, a pet name. Really? I don’t have a chance to stop or before it slips right past my lips. But it doesn’t seem to faze, only ignite the fire within her more.
“I’m anything but sweet,” she says as she skates back toward the goal on her side of the ice, rounding the back and building up some speed as she dribbles the puck toward me. I skate backwards, watching her every move, anticipating my moment to strike and steal the puck from her. She goes left then right, pausing for a moment. I know she’s going to fake me out, pretending she’s going left but really going right.
As if on cue, she moves the puck slightly to the left before going back right, not anticipating that I’m on to her and know exactly what she’s going to do. Just when I think I’m at the advantage, she proves me wrong once again. Scooping the puck up with up her stick as if she’s holding it in a lacrosse stick and doing some sort of jump spin thing over my stick. Landing perfectly on the ice, she steadies the puck back on the ice before getting a slap shot off at the goal. And what a slap shot it is.
Shocked isn’t how I would describe my face. Impressed is more like it. She raises her stick in the air, doing a celebration before skating back toward me with the biggest smile on her face. A smile that lures me in, wanting to claim her lips as if she were mine.
“Lucky shot,” I say, my lips tilting at the end.
She stops short of me, doing a once over. Her eyes fill with lust and desire as she takes me in. But it doesn’t last long as she turns and skates toward the players benches.
“No luck, just skill,” she says, a little breathless. “Now, I want you to start with some suicides. Then we’ll get into some on ice strengthening exercises before moving to passing drills.”
And back to business she goes.
???
An ice-cold beer, pizza, and an ice pack. That’s how I spend the rest of my evening after two hours of training and all-day youth hockey camp. I try not to wince at the pain as I move my knee back and forth, but she has worked the hell out of it today. Not that I blame her. I should have gone to physical therapy like I was told to, but I had other things on my mind.
However, the only thing on my mind now is the ice on my knee and the thoughts of Hayley. How she schooled me on the ice, in figure skates no less. Now I know where Cam gets all his skill.
My phone buzzes with a text. Glancing at the screen, I’m pleasantly surprised.
Hayley: Changing ice time tomorrow to 8 a.m. I will be bringing a special guest with me. Maybe they too can give you a run for your money.
I can’t help but smile as I read her text. Is she flirting with me? One can’t be too confident here, but I’m kind of liking this friendly banter. I’m kind of liking her too.
Brooks: We’ll see about that, Red.
I press send before getting a chance to correct what I just sent. Shit. Another pet name. Now she’s definitely going to think I’m flirting with her. Her text bubbles pop up and disappear several times before stopping altogether. She’s probably thinking of a way to tell me off or talk about professionalism.
Brooks: Sorry. Didn’t mean to call you that.
She responds instantly.
Hayley: I was going to warn you about professionalism, but I’ll let it slide since you apologized and well… since we’re not technically at work.
Maybe she’s flirting with me. A weird sensation builds in my chest, tightening as I think about all the ways her flirting can tease me. Sure, I’ve had many women hit, flirt, and tease me over the years. But none have quite had the effect on me like Hayley. It’s something I have to explore.
Fuck it.
I can either shoot my shot or regret never trying.
