“Yeah. Why? Is that not allowed?”
“Well, sure. But you don’t have to.”
“I want to. I like basketball. Not as much as hockey, but it’s a terrific sport.”
“Better than hockey.”
He scowled. “What’s that?”
“Nothing.” She paced again. So freaking adorable as she strutted in front of him. “So you want to know what I want from you.”
“Yep.”
“I want a lot of hot sex. Fun times. A festive holiday.”
“So, what? Tinsel on my balls?”
She stopped, blinking at him. “Now that’s an image.”
He chuckled.
“Stop distracting me.”
“Glitter? Lights? I can do lights on my…tree.”
She coughed and tried to stare him down with a stern look. “Now hold on, you.”
“I’m really turned on right now.” He glanced down at himself.
Saw her look there and blink, blush, then glance away before glancing back.
“That’s right. You want this. And all of me that goes with my hot and hard festivities.”
She gaped, and he realized that had come out a lot less romantic than intended.
Going with it, he shrugged. “We should be honest. It saves time.”
“Hot and hard festivities. Right.” She glanced away and cleared her throat. “Ahem. Right. So we have sex. A lot. We’re friends. Then you go your way and I go mine.”
“Do I have to go?”
“What?”
“Well, I have my games all over the country, Canada too. But my family is here. I’ll be back to Hope’s Turn a lot. After the season ends, I mean. Once we’ve won the Stanley Cup.”
“A little sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Yep.” He sighed. “This is a comfortable couch.” She frowned at him, so he circled back to the answers he really wanted. “When you say bad boy, what do you mean? I’m a tough guy, but I don’t want to hit you.”
“You hit me, and I’ll hit you back.” She glared. “So hard you’ll never get up again.”
“Oh stop. I’d never hit you. I value my life.”
“Good.”
“Then what do you want, exactly?”
“Your tough-guy persona is oddly appealing, okay? I also like when you make me laugh. But not in bed.”
