Destiny on Ice (Boys of Winter #1)(16)

And assuming that was the case…

When she lifts her head and looks over at me, I take a chance and smile. I make sure it’s a sweet smile, not a leering grin, lest it land me back in pervert territory.

She smiles back, and her eyes tell me all I need to know—it was me she was hoping to meet. And here we are, like it’s goddamned fate or something.

Just like that, I am intrigued.

Something about this girl hits me in the right way. I sense she may not be in my bed because of my fame. Maybe she simply likes the way I look, nothing more than that. It’d be refreshing if she has no agenda, no long game of landing a hockey player for a boyfriend or a husband.

Over the course of the next few minutes, we don’t utter a single word. And it’s not even weird. Even when we let our eyes do all the talking.

I kind of like you, Mystery Woman.

I sort of like you too.

You look really good in my bed, kind of like you belong here.

I could stay a little longer, if you want?

Okay, that last one is a reach, but it’s what I’m hoping she’s communicating.

Is there a connection developing between us?

Yeah, I think so.

Until, suddenly…

A look of horror dawns on her face. Everything in her expression suddenly screams you are not the guy I thought you were!

No more eye-talk. I flat-out ask, “What’s wrong? What just happened here?”

She backpedals away from me to more than halfway across my king-size bed.

What the hell?

Feeling under the comforter, and then what looks to be up under her dress, she gasps, “Where are my panties? You didn’t take them off me last night, did you?”

“What?” I’m aghast. “Fuck, no.”

Still, she persists, “If you did, that’s really creepy. And I totally want them back.”

Okay, now I’m aggravated. We just went from something nice to something shitty. I shouldn’t be surprised. If it’s not a girl with an agenda, it’s a f*cking psycho. I have the worst f*cking luck when it comes to women. That’s why I simply love ’em and leave ’em. It’s just easier that way.

“I swear I didn’t take your stupid panties off you,” I snap. “I get enough * on my own, thank you very much. And to clarify, that would be conscious *. I certainly would never stoop so low as to undress a passed-out girl for a free peek.”

Eyeing me like I’ve just been placed on a sex offenders list—hers—she asks in a snarky tone, “Well, what happened to them, then?”

“Shit, I don’t know.”

Okay, enough. Pretty or not, connection or not, I’ve had enough. I obviously misjudged her. She’s one of the crazy ones, like foot-licker. Why do so many of the hot ones turn out to be psychos?

Who cares? my dick interjects. Let’s f*ck her, anyway.

“Shut up,” I mutter.

“Did you just tell me to shut up?”

“What? No.”

Psycho Girl—who’s gone from Mystery Woman to Crazy Town territory—scrambles from my bed. She just about falls off the edge in doing so, but once she’s standing she spins back to face me, hands on her hips.

Glaring at me like I’m the devil, she snaps, “You had to have taken my panties off me. I have no memory of taking them off on my own.”

Fuck, she won’t leave this alone.

“I told you I don’t have your goddamn underwear.” I let out a sigh. “But you know what?”

She cocks her head. “What?”

“I think it’s time for you to go.”

“Oh, that’s just great,” she fumes, flashing eye-daggers my way. “You not only steal my panties but now you’re kicking me out of your house. To go forth in the world underwear-less! You’re a real prick, you know that?”

I hold my tongue. I’ve learned it’s best not to rile the psychos. And this one is clearly bat-shit nuts.

Still, I can’t resist a little fun, seeing as she’s hating on me big-time now anyway.

Grasping my morning wood under the covers, the clear outline giving her an idea of just how big I am, even semi-hard.

—Semi-hard, you ask? How can that be?

What can I say? My dick likes conflict.—

I raise a brow and smirk at her. “Hey, I bet I know what happened to your stupid panties.” She gawks at me—and also at my dick—as I clamor on. “I think you took your own panties off last night, hoping to get some of this.” I wiggle my junk for effect. “And let me tell you, honey. You wouldn’t be the first to do something like that.”

Scrunching up her face, but not before adjusting her glasses and surveying my cock once more, she hisses, “You are such a pig.”

“Oink,” I reply.

She throws up her hands. “God, get me out of here.”

“Gladly.” I let go of my dick and reach over to the nightstand for my cell. “Let me call you a car.”

“Don’t bother.” Psycho Girl grabs her purse from the floor and, whipping out her own phone, politely informs me, “I’m perfectly capable of calling for my own ride.”

“I was trying to be nice,” I grind out between clenched teeth.

This chick is making me nuts. Her strain of crazy must be contagious.