Page 6 of Not Your Pucking Girl

“Holyshit,”Sophielaughsas the boys file off the ice and head toward the locker room. “I knew Tank must have been an athlete, but the hockey team? Fuck! There’s no way I’m going to be able to keep it to a one-time thing now.”

I laugh at her misery. “I think we have bigger problems,” I say, glancing down at Coach Harris. “He hates us. He’s probably waiting for us to screw up so he can kick us out of here.”

“He’ll come around. Once this gets going and he sees some results, he’ll be all for it,” she promises. “Now get your ass downstairs and get a photo of them in the locker room.”

My eyes bug out of my head. “What?” I squeak, slightly panicked. The thought of going into that STD-infested locker room makes my skin crawl. “No way. I’m not going in there.”

“You have to,” she encourages. “You’re the photographer. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m coming with you, but you’re the one with the skills, Missy. Now, get off your ass.”

“Fine,” I grumble as I get up. “Why do you need a photo of them in the locker room?”

Sophie scoffs and mutters under her breath. “So I can add it to my spank bank.”

“Be serious,” I scold, swatting her shoulder.

Soph lets out a sigh and glances back at me as we trail back down the stairs of the grandstand. “I think we need something exciting to kick it off, and the boys’ locker room has always been taboo, prohibited, dark, and downright disgusting. But we have a chance to break that stereotype. It’s the Garden of Eden and all the ladies will be dying to know what kind of fruit it holds. So, we’re going to give them exactly what they want.”

I smirk at her reasoning, but I can’t dispute her. The girl has a point.

We make our way downstairs and search out the boys’ locker room, but it’s not hard. We just follow the scent of man-sweat until we find ourselves cowering in front of the door.

I go to knock to warn them we’re here, but Sophie barges straight by me, not hesitating even a bit. “Cover up, boys. We’re coming in,” she announces, pushing her way through the door.

Ahh, fuck.

I hastily follow behind, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. I don’t know why I feel so embarrassed about being here, but damn it, I am.

Keeping my eyes down, I try to give them a little privacy, but as Sophie chats and giggles away, I realize these boys don’t have a single fuck to give. They’re all confident in what they’ve been blessed with, and from what I can see, they damn well should be.

Sophie begins to explain what we want to the half-naked boys, so they huddle around, ready for a photo with their ripped bods on full display. “Hold on,” Tank calls. “We’re missing Miller.”

A few of the boys moan and tell us to get on with it, but Tank insists we wait. After all, Miller is the captain, and what locker room photo would be complete without him?

Not two minutes later, Miller walks out of the bathroom, freshly showered with his towel wrapped loosely and dangerously low on his hips, giving me the perfect view of his toned chest and abs that lead down to that mouth-watering V.

Drops of water glisten on his body, and heat begins to flood me as an intense desire rocks me to my core. I raise my eyes, locking on his, and I realize I’ve been caught checking him out. He smirks as though he’s just won some kind of game, and easily slots himself into the herd of boys.

I raise my camera and take a few shots, some with the boys posing and some natural, which to me, comes off a lot sexier. “Okay, thanks, guys,” I say, placing the cap back on the lens. “We’ve got what we need. You can get dressed now.”

I scramble as I try to flee the locker room. “Dani.”

Fuck.

I stop in my tracks and turn to figure out which of these sexy men is pining for my attention. Looking around, I find none other than the captain’s eyes on me, indicating with a slight jerk of his head for me to join him. I hesitantly walk over and stand before Miller, very aware that he’s wearing nothing but a very loose towel and still glistening with water that’s slowly dripping from his dark hair.

“Like what you see?” he smirks as he reaches into his locker and pulls out a sharpie.

I make a show of looking him over, then give a non-committed shrug. “Nah . . . seen better.”

“I doubt that,” he grins, his dark eyes flaming with excitement and desire. He takes my arm, and his touch sends shivers sailing through my body. I watch in confusion as he uncaps his sharpie with his teeth and begins scribbling a random number right down the length of my arm.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I yelp, pulling my arm out of his firm grasp and fixing him with an unimpressed look, while pointedly ignoring the way his intense gaze bores into mine. I look down at my forearm to see the first half of what I can only assume is his number, taking up all the skin on my forearm.

A smug expression crosses his face. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m giving you my number.”

“You know, there are much more conventional ways to give a woman your number,” I explain.

“Yep, but this way you can’t tell me you lost it,” he smirks, then reaches out, waiting for me to place my hand in his so he can complete the number. “Call me,” he says once he has branded my arm with his mark.

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