All the Sauce (IceCats 4)

Oh sweet Jesus. “I didn’t want any such thing.”

He nods slowly. “You did,” he says, leaning in. “But can I tell you what I want?”

Our eyes lock as I swallow hard. “I don’t think I want to know.”

His eyes brighten. “Oh, you do.”

“Doubtful.”

“You do.” His lips curve, and my kitty cries for him. “I want your number, Pax.”

I knew I didn’t want to know. My gaze is locked with his, and I know if I give it to him, I’m giving in to whatever game he wants to play. If I don’t give it to him, then I may regret it for the rest of my life.

“For what?” I ask to give myself more time to figure out what the hell I’m doing.

He taunts, running his hands down his chest and then to his hips. Not that I watch or that I’m drooling.

Much.

I wipe my mouth as he says, “For some texts. Maybe some calls. But definitely FaceTimes.” I fight back a grin as he moves in closer, and I can smell the sweat on his body mixed with that spicy, woodsy smell. He turns his hat to the back, his eyes on full display as he looks down at me, meaning nothing but business.

And maybe some naughty fun.

Or maybe I want the fun?

“Because you’ll need my guidance when you’re lifting, and if I can’t be here, we can FaceTime.”

“How thoughtful.”

“Exactly,” he says, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Also, if I don’t get to see that gorgeous face of yours when I’m on the road, I may play like shit. And you don’t want that on your conscience. Do you?” He moves in even closer, and I can feel the pure heat radiating off his big body. His eyes promise all kinds of things that I am not even the slightest bit ready for. With the most serious and thoughtful look, he asks, “You wouldn’t want me to suck, Paxy? On the ice, I mean.”

Oh. My. God.

I’m so screwed.

Chapter Thirteen

Owen

* * *

I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t kiss Angie again until she knows she’s hot as fuck.

But as I stand here, grinning at her, my cock is harder than a barbell, and I’m finding that my promise was the dumbest thing I’ve ever decided in my life. And I’ve promised some pretty stupid shit. Like when I promised Evan all my candy from Halloween if he did my chores. That was dumb. Or when I promised Quinn endless rides the summer before I left for the IceCats. Really dumb since the kid only goes to the library. Who still goes to the library? I was bored out of my mind. Or when I promised Posey I wouldn’t tell Shelli that Posey told Aiden that Shelli farted all the time. I did tell him, and then Posey kicked my ass because Shelli kicked hers. In all reality, one would think I’d learned my lesson about making promises.

I haven’t.

And I will kiss Angie tonight.

Not now, though. I’ve got to keep working my magic on her.

Angie’s lips part as she looks up at me. Even being a taller girl, she’s still shorter than me, and while this may make me sound like a complete asshole pervert—hell, call me whatever—holy shit, her tits look fantastic in that bra. I almost dropped a three-hundred-pound weight on my face when she took off her shirt. No, I shouldn’t have been watching her, and no, I wouldn’t mind dying that way. I am stoked she took my advice. I am proud of her too. She’s way stronger than she realizes, and maybe instead of promising not to kiss her, I can promise to help her learn her strength.

Shit, if she keeps looking at me through those long lashes and thick-rimmed glasses, I’ll promise her anything.

“Don’t put that on me,” she says, holding my gaze. “Plus, we both know girls don’t get in the way of hockey. That was drilled into your head since peewees.”

I chuckle because she’s right. I’m pretty sure my coaches always told us not to let a girl distract you. They’ll ruin your life. But is that truly a bad thing? I mean, hot damn, look at this girl and her curves. Her sweatpants are high on her waist, but her waist dips in before it expands into some full hips and an even thicker ass. I love how she tucks her pants into her socks. It’s weird as fuck, but I like it.

“You are not wrong, but I will tell you I sucked because you wouldn’t give me your number,” I tease, and she laughs.

“Whatever. Fine, where is your phone?”

I hold up a finger. “One second. Let me go get it.”

I jog toward where Dart and Thatcher are, both giving me knowing grins. I go to my hoodie, getting my phone out of my pocket as Dart says, “If she turns you down, let me know.”