Destiny on Ice (Boys of Winter #1)(14)

My cock strains against the comforter, pointing over at Mystery Woman like he’s a divining rod. Yeah, that wouldn’t be happening if I’d been laid properly.

Shit. Maybe we did do it and she sucked, and not in the good kind of way.

Mystery Woman, who may or may not be a good lay, finally comes to. She sits up next to me, stretching her lithe form. Yawning, she rubs her eyes, not bothering to look over at me. She must be half asleep and unaware I’m here. She probably thinks the guy she replied to a minute ago was part of a dream.

I check her out more thoroughly before she notices she’s not alone.

Hmm, I don’t think she’s a puck bunny. Although if she is a PB she must be a wildly popular one, based on how sexy her body looks in that tight-as-sin red dress. The confident air surrounding her, though, screams to me that she’s no dingy pushover. Nope, not with the kind of fire I see in those pretty turquoise eyes.

Oh, shit.

She just discovered she’s not alone. And those stunning eyes are trained on me, narrowed in what appears to be anger.

Yeah, I definitely didn’t f*ck this one. She wouldn’t be so mad if she’d gotten some Brent Oliver cock.

“Who the hell are you?” she asks as she pulls the comforter all the way up to her chin.

Maybe her eyes aren’t narrowed, after all. I think she’s just squinting. Can she not see me all that well?

“Hey.” I wave a hand in front of her beautiful face, which she quickly smacks away.

Okay, not blind. Maybe near-sighted, though.

“Ugh. Boundaries, please,” she snaps.

I suppress a laugh. This chick is cute, all worked up like this.

I try again to make nice by holding out my hand. “Hey. I know this is awkward and weird as hell, but I guess we should introduce ourselves. I’m Br—”

She winces and holds her head. “Can you just shut up for a minute? My head is killing me.”

Wow. No one ever talks to me like that. “Talk about rude,” I snap.

She squints over at me, still like she can barely see me. But see me, or not, she has no qualms about reading me the riot act.

“Whoever you are, mister, next time you fall into a bed you should check and make sure it’s not already occupied.”

Is she for real?

“Wait a goddamn second,” I volley back as she’s busy reaching for something over on the nightstand. Glasses, it looks like. “For the record, lady, this is my bed. Maybe you’re the one who needs to check before invading someone’s personal space.”

“Invading your personal space?” She fumbles with the glasses, drops them once on the bed, and then picks them up. “That’s rich coming from you, especially when it was your big, warm body, among other things, pressed up against my ass—”

She’s gotten her glasses on now, which incidentally make her look even sexier, in a hot librarian sort of way.

“Why’d you stop?” I ask.

Behind the lenses, her pretty eyes are widened in shock. “Oh shit,” she utters as she stares at me intently. “This can’t be happening.”

“What can’t be happening?” I query, at a loss.

“It’s—it’s…you!”

Her appalled tone catches me off guard, prompting me to say, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Glancing away, she says softly, “Uh, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Okay, if she’s going to play games, then so am I. And do I ever have one for her. It’s called: If I Can’t Fuck You, Then Let Me Fuck with You.

“Hey,” I begin, smirking, “I have a question for you.”

“Okay?” She eyes me warily.

I lean in close and lower my voice to my sexiest rasp. “Did we”—I gesture between our bodies—“you know.”

She jumps away from me, seemingly horrified I’d suggest such a thing. “Absolutely not,” she states.

Good God, I don’t want to give her a coronary.

Toning it down a notch, I say, “Relax, sweetheart. I know nothing happened. I’m just giving you a hard time.”

“Why would you do that?” She’s cute when she’s perplexed.

I make an “isn’t it obvious” face, nodding down to how our bodies are positioned, almost intertwined, in the bed. When she still doesn’t get it, I lay it on the line for her.

“You’re in my bed, honey. And, well, you know what usually happens when a man and a woman end up in bed together.”

“True.” She blows out a breath. “But though I ended up in your bed, I can assure you that didn’t occur.”

“Yes, yes”—I roll my eyes—“we’ve established that. But if I didn’t bring you back, which I know I didn’t, then how’d you end up in here?”

“It’s not important,” she murmurs.

Really, I don’t think she knows. “Okay,” I say.

Mystery Woman starts looking really uptight. Well, she’s been looking that way since she put on her sexy librarian glasses, but this is more. Truth is, she probably could use a good roll in the hay to loosen her up a little.

Hey, I’m up for it—in more ways than one—if I can get her to agree. And I hope I can. Not only am I horny as hell, but look at her. She’s gorgeous, even if she is a little weird. But, damn, weird or not, those turquoise eyes are mesmerizing. And all that shiny black hair would look good splayed out against my pillows. Don’t even get me started on that sexy dress. The curves and ample cleavage it’s showing off make me want to tear that red fabric away so I can see more.