Page 221 of Wrong Pucking Player

She turns away, but I sneak my arm around her waist and pull her onto my lap in a heartbeat.

“A-Armani?” She doesn’t understand what I’m doing—neither do I—but I’m desperate to have her in my arms.

Dying to lay my lips on her flesh and enjoy her warmth in my lap.

“You know how hot you are at the benches, calling shit out.” What am I doing? I’ve lost my mind. “You’re gonna use that authoritative voice on me, Sweet Kitten?” I don’t give her the chance to answer as I’m already claiming what I desperately seek, kissing that sensitive spot on her nape.

She gasps at the taunt of my lips feeling hot in comparison to her chilled flesh.

With her just wearing her scrubs, she’s probably been cold throughout the game.

“My Kenzie’s cold?” I mutter into her flesh as I hold her even tighter against me.

“I-I’m alright,” she defends and puts her hand on my arm. “Armani. I need to start your IV.”

“Do it from my lap.”

“Armani.”

“You can multitask, Nurse Andrews.”

“I can’t think straight with you,” she whines but doesn’t finish because I’m sucking her neck before lightly nipping her flesh. “Oscar!”

I groan at the sound of my name leaving her lips.

“Say my name again, Kenzie.” She doesn’t know how horny I am for her right now.

“Ugh.” She’s the one to groan now, but I don’t expect her to manage to get out of my hold.

Her freedom leaves me no choice but to sit back against the row of lockers I realize is behind me and admire her feisty face that’s flushed with lines of anger.

“Ready for any form of punishment, Nurse,” I tease and enjoy how she rolls her eyes.

“If I don’t get your IV running, you’re gonna start thinking we’re in some rated R video, and it’s your turn to get a lap dance from the fake nurse of a porn star,” she mutters and shakes her head before she’s setting me up.

I’m still trying to figure out what she’s referring to until it finally clicks.

“Is that from that porno we watched last time I was at your place?”

She has no choice but to pause what I’m assuming is putting the IV needle into my vein, her eyes seeking mine until we’re sharing a look.

“You were sleeping.”

“I was napping.”

There’s a difference.

No one can tell me otherwise.

“Remind me next victory game I bring you a special bottle of cocktails so you’re not delirious before I’m able to hook you up.”

“No need to hook me up,” I note and lean over which forces her to move the needle for my own safety. “My hook-up is right here,” I state with my husky voice. “Only you’re permanent, Kitten.”

Permanently mine.

She looks so unamused by my foolishness.

“I like grumpy cold-ass Armani,” she notes and flicks at my forehead. “Stop moving.”

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