Page 15 of Sin Bin Bully
“For you,” I say.
“I don’t remember asking for this,” she says with a smile.
“You’ll take it anyways,” I tell her.
She grins and takes the drink from me. “Guess you’re right.”
“So how’d you like being an ice girl for my team?”
“Yourteam?” she questions, a perfectly plucked brow lifted.
I shrug. “Isn’t that what they all say?”
She swallows a sip of her drink, and I watch her throat bob as the liquid makes its way down. I want so badly to wrap my hand around the skin there, but I pace myself. It’s not time yet.
“Pretty much,” she says, biting her lip. “To answer your question, I had a lot of fun. I hope I can do it again next year.”
“I’m sure you will. You did amazing.”
She looks away from me for the first time since I approached, visibly shy. But then she regains her confidence and looks me square in the eye.
“What about you? Are you scared you won’t be invited back next year?”
I laugh unexpectedly. “Do you think I should be?”
She pretends like she’s thinking about it. “I mean, you did play like shit this season, so I don’t know. Maybe watch your back.”
I step a little closer to her. All of my senses go on high alert as the scent of her perfume drifts up to me. It smells like vanilla and cinnamon, and it’s already driving me crazy.
“Who’s going to take my place?” I ask.
“I’m sure it won’t be that hard to find a replacement. Not like you were such an integral part of the team.”
I nod solemnly. “I think you might be right. Maybe I should think about an alternative career.”
She places a hand on my bicep, squeezing lightly. “It’ll be okay, Warwick. I can get you into Georgetown University.”
“Is that where you went?”
She nods. “Got a minor in dance, and I used to skate, so that’s why I tried out for the team. But it’s really just a job so that I can one day go back to school for what I really want to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Astronomy,” she says, looking up at the sky. I don’t follow her gaze, instead using the moment to let my eyes trail down her body.
She’s wearing a red strapless mini dress and matching red heels. Practically every inch of her dark brown skin is showing, and it simultaneously makes me feel possessive and absolutely ravenous.
“Was hockey always what you wanted to do?” she asks, looking back at me.
“Pretty much. My family wanted me to follow in their footsteps and do business in hotels,” I say, gesturing around us. “But I was never interested. Seems pretty boring if you ask me.”
“Did they fight you on it?”
“For a little while, but I think they realized pretty early on that it was a lost cause. I was always going to do what I wanted.”
As we talk, I notice the way she can barely keep her eyes off of me. When she does look away, she’s pulled right back. I also notice how easily she’s opening up to me. She doesn’t seem to have drank too much, so I don’t think it has anything to do with alcohol.
“Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more private? It’s getting pretty loud up here.”