He’s attractive. That’s just a fact and certainly not a secret, especially to him. The arrogance that exists in his cocky smirk makes me want to slap it right off his face.
“Did you need something?” I ask him sharply, surprised by the aggression in my voice.
He shrugs, widening his stance ever so slightly. The shape of his body is a tantalizing hourglass. His shoulders taper down to his waist before widening over his thick, muscular thighs and calves, which are completely visible from the shorts he’s wearing, stopping a few inches above his knees. Peeking out beneath them are a couple tattoos that draw my attention, but I force my focus back up at his face, a scowl on my lips.
“Aren’t you cold?” I ask, not forgetting the first question he ignored.
“I’m a hockey player.” He scoffs, amused at my seemingly dumb question. “I don’t get cold.”
I roll my eyes, and when they land on him again, hisjaw is clenched and ticking. Good, if he is irritated with my response, maybe he’ll leave me alone. It’s better that way.
Annoyed with this entire conversation, I sigh, repeating myself. “Did you need something? Or can I get on with my day?”
He fake shudders. “Now I’m cold—from that tone. Why are you so angry with me, huh? I haven’t done anything to you.”
“I’m not angry. I just don’t need to talk to you. Simple as that.” My heart skips a beat. Self-hatred rolls through me.
He wets his lips. “Even when you secretly want to?”
This earns another eye roll. “You have no idea what I want.”
There’s only one man who does, and he’s certainly not you.
The blue swirls of his eyes darken. “Come on. I saw you watching me at practice.”
“More like you were watchingme. Maybe you should keep your eyes on the puck.”
Biting down on the inside of his cheek, he smiles. “Hard to when you’re right there”—he takes a step toward me—“distracting me.”
He’s toying with me, like I’m a little doll, and he’s loving every second of it. Worse than that, a part of me is loving it too.
There’s a darkness in his aura that beckons to me, calls to the side of me that only my masked man knows. But I can’t entertain that with him, no matter what.
Besides, if Mr. Mystery even knew that this interaction was happening, he’d probably kill Bates himself.
“Goodbye.” I take a step forward, to the side of him, intent on escaping this conversation andhimentirely.
Suddenly, his big hand juts out to his side, colliding with the top of my hip and stopping me in place. “Wait.”
I can feel the heat of his hand, burning into my side. “Still adamant about not dating a hockey player?”
This earns a haughty chuckle from deep within me. Not backing down from his intimidating stare, I look up at him, holding his hooded gaze.
A smirk drifts across my lips as they part. “I’d have no problem dating a hockey player. As long as they weren’t you.”
“Okay, now, you’re just outright flirting with me.” He grabs his heart, a smile growing on his face.
I also wouldn’t dateany otherplayer on my dad’s team, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make right now.
“I promise you, that is not what I’m doing.”
I look up at him, down at his hand, and back up at his eyes. Taking the hint, he removes his hand from my hip.
A shadow shifts into his eyes, darkening the usual bright blues even more. “So, you just have a problem with me then?”
I nod, feeling my confidence waver beneath the intensity in his voice.
“Really?”
