by Toni Aleo
But he won’t.
I go left again, and when he follows like I wanted him to, I throw the puck to the right, going around him fast. But he’s on me, following, and he poke checks the puck from me. But it doesn’t get far out of my reach, so I take it and spin around once more to go to his right, but when I do, I come down on my knee. I hear the little audience gasp, but I don’t even feel the pain. Jayden doesn’t seem to care one bit because he steals the puck, rushing it back to the goal, looking at me with determination but maybe a bit of concern too.
Laughing, I skate toward him. If he were smart, he would have rushed the goal and tried to score while I was down, but I respect that he wanted to wait for me to be on my feet.
“Oh, so a fair player, eh?”
He laughs, his eyes trained on mine but at the same time on the puck. I can see that he is calculating his next move, and I have no clue why I am turned on by that, but I am. “Canadian, are you? Is that why you think you’re good?”
Shaking my head, I square up in front of him. “Nope, my dad is. Kind of a habit to say ‘eh,’ and I’m good because I was born to do this.”
He nods. “So you’re finally dropping the ‘play a bit’ act?”
I shrug. “I think you knew from the beginning that it was an act.”
He gives me a knowing grin, one that has my belly fluttering. What a stupid feeling, but it’s happening to me at that second and I refuse to allow it to get me off my game.
“The socks gave you away. No girl takes stinky socks.”
I actually giggle, which is pathetic, but I can’t help it. I like this asshole.
“I’m not like other girls,” I say, and he looks up at me, giving me his full attention.
“I can tell, but I hope you don’t cry when I beat you. I don’t like when girls cry.”
“You’re in luck ’cause I don’t cry,” I say, and I take the opening, poking the puck out between his legs, and rushing around him for the puck. Once I have it under my control, I haul ass toward the goal, but like I knew he would be, he’s on me, trying to push it away. But I’m quicker, pressing my hip into his stomach as I inch my way to the goal. Somehow, he’s behind me, almost holding my stick as he tries to push the puck away. My ass is in his groin and I swear he is hard, but I have to ignore that! I have to score.
With the puck, of course.
As I press my elbow into his gut, he lets out an oomph and I take that opening, turning and shooting. I miss though, to my dismay. Cursing, I rush with him at my side toward the puck. We reach it at the same time, both throwing elbows and hips, trying to get away from each other.
“Damn, Jay! Take it easy,” one of his brothers says when his elbow connects with my ribs, but I doubt he hears them. Hell, I hardly hear them until he comes up with the puck, skating toward the pink line.
Looking at me, he grins. “You okay there, Moore?”
“Just dandy, Sinclair. You can’t hurt me.”
Well, he could, but I wouldn’t allow him.
“Good to know, because I don’t see you as a hot, innocent girl in short shorts and a sexy tank that shows the sides of her tits when she skates hard.”
A grin comes over my face as it heats to color. “So what you’re saying is, if I wasn’t about to kick your ass, then you’d see me that way?”
Skating backward, he moves the puck back and forth as he holds my gaze. “Maybe.”
I chuckle a bit. “So instead, what do you see me as?”
“My competitor.”
Yup, I like him a lot.
“Dude, calm your tits, she’s a chick,” one of them calls.
“Don’t say that. She’s a dude in a chick’s body. She’s kinda mean,” Delanie says and I grin harder.
“I am,” I say with a wink.
“I’m not scared,” he says, holding my gaze. “Not one bit.”
“Then stop babysitting the fucking puck and try to score,” I challenge and he nods.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and then to my surprise at his size, he cuts left. When I go with him, he goes the other way, getting around me like I’m a fucking rookie and I’m left chasing him. When he goes to shoot, though, I lift his stick, hip checking him, trying to put my weight into him to throw him off, but he hip checks me instead, pain going up my side. Somehow though, I end up with the puck, and when I shoot, this time it clinks on the side of the pipe.
Since my dad isn’t here, I throw my arms up and grin. “Booyah!”
“Booyah? What are you, ten?” he asks, getting the puck and skating toward the line.
“Aw, are you upset? Did I dent your ego?”
“Baby, you have no effect on me.”
I laugh at that. “Please, I can see how bad you want to beat me.”
That has him laughing. “Yeah, I do, but then I want to fuck you too. Can you tell that too?”
I gasp, my eyes going wide as his bore into mine. His statement has me a little taken aback; he’s so damn blunt and fucking hot! When he flashes me a sexy little grin, I think it was his plan to distract me, because then he’s off to the races, and before I can even try to block him, he shoots, hitting it off the pipe.
Throwing his hands up, he points his stick at me and says, “Booyah.”
“Asshole,” I say, taking the puck to the line. “I’m pretty sure you said that to distract me.”
He shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. You’ll never know.”
Shit, why do I want to know? He means nothing to me. Damn it.
I square off to him and hold his gaze as I move the puck, calculating my next move. I could go left, even right, but a part of me wants to go right the fuck through him. Just to show him not to mess with me. I’m mad that I want to beat him and that I want him too. I don’t like this feeling. It’s weird and scary and I just want him to go away, but then I want to wrap my arms around him and make him tell me I’m pretty.
I’m insane.
Deciding that showing him who he is messing with is a good idea, I send the puck through his open legs, and then I go into him with all my might. But he’s a solid fucking wall, and instead of knocking him on his ass, I fall hard on mine.
And at that moment, I miss my girdle like a normal girl misses her phone.
With a loud laugh, he turns, taking the puck and ignoring me laid out on the ground before shooting with ease off the damn pipe. Reaching for the puck, he turns and grins at me.
With a nod as I get up, he says, “I like your tenacity, so yeah, I’ll fuck ya.”
“Oh my God! Let me rip my clothes off now! Fuck you, and give me the damn puck,” I say, and like I wanted, he passes the puck to me, and I take it to the line as my ass aches in pain.
“Aww, someone is getting angry!” he teases, his eyes playful, but he isn’t joking. He wants to get under my skin, he wants to beat me, but it will be a cold day in fucking hell before that happens. He has just made it so it’s my life’s mission to ruin him. To cut him down to size.
“Jayden, that’s enough. Leave her be,” I think Jace calls out.
“Yeah, man, this is getting to be a little bit too much,” Jude says.
“Y’all are just fueling her hate-fire,” Delanie says.
“Yeah, she lives for this shit,” Mandie says, expelling a breath. “I think we should go cook.”
“Hell no, this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” Jace says.
“For sure,” Jude agrees, but they are the least of my worries.
Jayden fucking Sinclair is public enemy number one.
Coming to me, his grin is unstoppable and his eyes are burning into mine, but I won’t let him get one up on me. He isn’t even that cute.
“I don’t know if you realize, but I’m winning.”
“Noted,” I say, glaring as I arch to the left, stretching out my hip, hoping to relieve some of the pain.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I look at him and my glare deepens. “Like you care.”
He smiles. “Ah, that coul
d be debated, you know.”
I meet his gaze and I can see the concern in his eyes. His eyes leave mine, doing a slow ride down my body until he stops at my knee. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’ll live.”
“True,” he says with a nod. “But will you win?”
“Yeah,” I basically growl and then I go, the hate-fire fueling me as I push by him, pushing his stick away as I rush the goal. He comes to block me, but I drop the puck back to my skate, and this is the reason I hate roller so damn much. The road isn’t as smooth as it is when you’re on ice, and the damn puck doesn’t slide the way I want it to. Thankfully, I have control and I surprise him and me as I throw my hip into his groin. When he groans loudly, I whip around him, going back on my right leg, shooting the puck against the pipe.
I don’t cheer. I don’t even look at him. Some could consider that a cheap shot.
I don’t though.
Taking the puck, I send it to him as he glares at me. “Cheap shot, Moore.”
“Move your dick,” I suggest with a shrug.
He scoffs. “It’s just so big, though.”
“I’ve seen and felt bigger, buddy,” I say, my eyes burning as I meet his gaze.
He chuckles. “Damn, going for the kill, dissing a man’s dick.”
“Stop being a little bitch and play hockey,” I call at him, and he laughs some more. I don’t think being a bitch to this guy works. He isn’t paying me any mind. It’s weird and I’m not sure how to get into his head. Maybe I can’t. As I wait for him to come toward me, he toys with the puck, eyeing me with those sinful green eyes. Watching him, I decide I’m playing too close and it has been my downfall. He’s big, I need to be ready to block off his shot.
“Damn, she is mean,” I hear Jace say.
“It’s so bad, you just don’t even know,” Delanie says back to him. “She’s scary.”
We ignore them, and as he comes toward me, we both fight tooth and nail with the puck, going back and forth, stealing and trying to get a shot. But we are both too good. After a good seven minutes, I’m huffing and puffing, and he is too as I dig my hip into him. I won’t give up and I know he won’t either.
One of us is going to score.
And it’s gonna be me.
“Why don’t y’all just go have sex? It’s way better than fighting like this,” Delanie suggests and I scoff.
“I wouldn’t have sex with him if he were the last man on earth,” I say, pushing back hard, but he doesn’t go anywhere! Fucking caveman. I’ve never gone against such a huge player. Especially a forward. It’s damn weird.
“Mm, sex does seem like more fun than beating each other up,” he says roughly, in such a dirty way against my ear. I didn’t expect him to be that close, so I press my elbow into his chest. But I lose control of the puck and he steals it, turning so that he can shoot. I throw my blade against his shot to block it, but it goes up my stick and the puck snaps me against the jaw. Dropping my stick, I take my face in my hands, closing my eyes tightly as I groan loudly. Damn it!
“Oh fuck!” Jace says, and I fully expect to hear the clink of the puck against the pipe, but I don’t.
“Are you okay?” Jayden says close to my face to my utter surprise. Tears threaten to fall, my sinuses burning as my jaw aches like the fiery depths of hell, but I won’t cry.
There is no crying in hockey.
I open my eyes, looking at him through my fingers before I nod. It hurts, I’m not gonna lie, but I’m okay. “Yeah,” I say, dropping my hands.
“Baylor, that’s enough. Let’s go make food,” Delanie says, urging me with her eyes to stop, but I ignore her, picking up my stick.
“Yeah, maybe we should stop. Are you sure you’re okay?” Jayden asks me, and I nod, stretching my neck before getting the puck to take to the line.
“I’m fine.”
“Baylor, come on,” Mandie says. “Your face is swelling.”
I don’t care, though. This guy isn’t going to beat me. When I look up, though, he is there, towering over me in all his sexy glory. No, wait, his caveman glory. He is not sexy! Looking down at me, he reaches out, stroking the tender spot and shakes his head.
“You need ice.”
“It can wait. Next goal wins.”
“Or we can call it a tie,” he suggest.
“I don’t tie, I win,” I say with a shake of my head. “And if you let me win, I’ll kick you in your dick.”
He scoffs. “Has anyone told you you’re a bitch?”
I nod. “Daily.”
“Well, they just don’t know you,” he says softly, and I didn’t expect that. Cautiously, I meet his gaze and I’m confused. Why would he say that? “You’re not a bitch, you’re driven, and it’s fucking hot.”
“Are you flirting with me?” I ask, my eyes burning into his.
“Maybe.”
I glare. “You and that fucking maybe.”
“I can’t show you all my cards, Moore. I have to test ya out.”
“No reason. We’ll never see each other again, and nothing will ever happen between us.”
“Maybe,” he says with a nod. “But we’re making memories.”
“That’s a really girlie thing to say.”
“Yeah? My mom says I am kinda sensitive.”
I smile. “So in all reality, you’ll be the one crying when I score?”
He grins back. “Will you comfort me?”
“With a beer. That’s all.”
“So, no sex?” he says, and I’m not sure if he is joking or not.
I nod. “No chance.”
“Hmm, so I guess the only way of scoring is by winning this, huh?”
“You can try,” I suggest, and his grin gets bigger.
“Sounds like a plan,” he says, but he doesn’t realize I am distracting him. And because I’ve cut left every time, I go right. It’s like he is in my brain, though, because he takes the puck from me with ease and rushes the goal. Before he can shoot though, I poke check it out to the right and rush it. I hear him behind me, ready to steal it, so I shoot from my backhand, and to my complete and utter surprise, it hits the side of the fucking pipe.
Oh my God, my dad would flip his shit if he saw that!
Our little audience screams out, some in victory—the girls—and the others in distress—the boys—as I throw my arms up. Turning, complete surprise on my face, I say, “Holy shit.”
“That was a lucky shot,” he says with a grin, his eyes boring into mine.
I nod and then I point at him. “Maybe,” I say in a teasing way. “But luck or not, I won.”
“Today, Moore,” he says, holding out his hand. I take it, his large, warm hand wrapping around mine. For some reason, it feels erotic, almost dirty, and I like it. Coming closer, he squeezes my hand as he says roughly, “But we’ll see who really scores later.”
Pulling back, I grin at him and shake my head. “Well, I guess that means you’ll be zero for two if you think you’re scoring with me.”
“Maybe,” he says with a wink. “Or maybe not.”
Heat washes over me as my stomach clenches while his eyes hold mine. As I watch his retreating back while his brothers give him shit, I decide that he could be my Achilles’ heel.
And I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“Ha, you got beat by a girl.”
I roll my eyes, pushing Jace away from me. “She isn’t even a girl. She’s a hybrid.”
That has him laughing as Jude says, “And you got shot down. She’s beating you in every possible way.”
“For now,” I say confidently.
“Whatever, you won’t get any,” Jude laughs, rolling his eyes. “She’s probably a lesbian.”
“For sure. I’m kinda scared of her,” Jace adds.
“Why, ’cause she might eat pussy?” Jude asks, confused.
“No, because she’s too good. Like he said, hybrid good. She’s hot and can beat your ass in the sport we are supposed to be the best at.”
&
nbsp; Thinking he may be right¸ I don’t want to admit that, so I say, “Eh, she may have beat me, but it was luck.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jace says as he climbs the stairs up to the patio with Jude behind him. “She’s got some mad skills.”
Not wanting to give her any more praise, I shrug before I carry our bag and sticks into the garage. Since I’m the loser, I have to put shit away, and man, it’s fucking killing me that I lost to her.
But she was magnificent.
I’ve never played against someone like her. Yeah, I’ve played with the best guys in the league, guys who go straight into the draft to be first and second picks, but there is something about Baylor’s game that has me in awe. As much as I want to hate on her and talk trash, I can’t. I have to respect her because it’s a great game. Even if she does kick your ass and doesn’t care one bit about what she does to you, I can’t help but be completely spellbound by her.
Probably has a lot to do with the fact that I want to fuck her brains out too.
Throwing everything down, I go to get the goal and I let out a groan when I lift it. Man, she has some elbows and hips on her. She got me good in the ribs and then in my hip too. I probably have bruises. Setting the goal down, I lift my shirt, and sure as shit, I have a few red marks that are on their way to being black bruises. Not that I mind them, I appreciate them, they make me stronger. As much as I wished plenty of times that she was naked as she was rubbing and smacking into me, I also wanted to win. I wanted to put her in her place. She’s cocky but not at the same time. It’s weird. She may not rub it in your face that she is better than you, but she sure does give you a look that tells you just that.
It’s insane.
She cheered like she should; she’s a great player. But if Jude or Jace would have scored the way she did, they would have shoved it down my throat, kicked me in the balls, and then given me shit for weeks. All Baylor did was look me in the eye and I knew that she thought she was better than me. I don’t know which is worse, honestly. I don’t like losing, and I really don’t like losing to a girl. But again, I don’t think she’s really a real girl. Though, I felt her against me. Was engrossed in her intoxicating and musky smell. Saw down her tank, the curve of her breasts, the thickness of her ass and thighs. I found myself begging to taste the red of her lips. To be the one to smear it along her jaw and off her lips. I don’t know what girl wears bright red lipstick like that and can puck-handle the way she can, but I’m pretty sure Baylor is not real. She may be all female, but she’s a dude when it comes to hockey. That’s the only thing I can come up with, and she’s probably the only one of her kind.