Misadventures of a Rookie (Misadventures #11)(8)

And then, right to bed we’d go.

But before that could happen, she obviously had something to say. Her lips were trembling and her body was shaking as she glared up at me. I wanted to laugh, I did, but I was pretty sure she would hit me.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted that or not…

“Bet you grew up in one of those big fancy houses with the built-in rink in the back yard that your daddy spent hours on. I bet you had a car by fifteen—and not some beater car. You had a Camaro or, better yet, a Lexus. You never had to beg for a girl’s attention, ever. You had the girls doing your homework every day, and the teacher’s assistant made sure you got the answer key so you could memorize it.” She paused, her eyes full of fire.

I couldn’t disagree with her. She was hitting every nail on the head. With more force than I expected.

“You were idolized as a kid. The star player. Everyone loved you. You were treated like a god, and you let it go to your head because why wouldn’t you? Everyone loved you, everyone wanted to have sex with you because you’re Gus Persson, and everyone wanted a piece. Then you come here, again the star, even if you think you should have gone straight to the Tornadoes. So to make sure everyone knew they made a mistake, you start playing super hard here, just to keep the idolization going. You’re obnoxious so people see you, hear you. Because you love the attention. You yearn for it. But I’m here to tell you, Gus Persson, you’ll never get it from me. Ever.”

Swallowing hard, I kept my eyes on her, and soon I realized we were both breathing hard. Her little speech hit home on many levels. Maybe she did know me, and I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. No, I did… It turned me the fuck on. The way her breasts were rising and falling with each breath, the wild in her eyes, and those lips in that pout—it was deadly. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to touch her. Fuck, I wanted her, but to keep from doing that, I crossed my arms, clicking my tongue as I held her gaze. “You got me all figured out, huh?”

“Yes,” she somehow got out before taking a step back, probably thinking the distance would halt what was brewing between us. “And I know all you want is to fuck me and nothing else. I won’t be another little mark on your hockey stick, big boy. I deserve more than that.”

The girls behind her all looked away, embarrassed. I could hear my friends laughing and razzing me, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered at that moment but her. I didn’t even know her name—didn’t know anything, really—but I wanted to know it all. And then some. If she thought I didn’t see her reinforce herself against the table to keep from falling over, I did, and that meant one thing.

I affected her.

I didn’t have to be obnoxious or cocky to see that.

With a tip of my lips, I asked, “So now it’s my turn, right?”

Her brows came in, her eyes darkening as she looked up at me. “Huh?”

“My turn,” I said once more, this time pressing my elbows into the chair so that we were eye-to-eye. “I bet you are super smart, one of those girls who fights for female rights, but not like the real feminists. Like a wannabe one. You make sure to shave and make sure you smell right. I bet you never share anything on Facebook about ‘the fight for women’ because you don’t want the attention. You want to fly under the radar and keep everyone away. You were more than likely hurt by someone who you assume is just like me. Do I look like him? Is that the problem? Did he dump you for the cheerleader because you were too smart?”

“Fuck you,” she sneered.

I beamed. “We’ll get there,” I say. “See, the thing is, No Name Nancy, it doesn’t matter, because no matter how much you say you don’t like me because of my upbringing or my amazing skills on the ice or even because I look like the dude who fucked you over—you do like me. A lot. You think about me more than you should. You yearn for my touch because you want to know what it feels like. You don’t want to. You hate it, which in turn makes you hate me. But sweetheart, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t let me touch you.”

I reached out, trying to cup her shoulders, but she moved.

“Over my dead body.”

That makes me laugh. “See, more of that ‘I have to say no to keep my word,’ when really, all you want to do is scream yes while I’m deep inside you.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t seem shocked as she pushed the stool away, making me stand so that she could go toe-to-toe with me. With a tip of her chin, her eyes ever so dark, she mocked, “Then take me.”

Huh? “What?”

“Take me, right here, if I want it. Take it. Fuck me against every surface in this bar. Show me how much I want it,” she demanded, her eyes sparkling with the challenge. Wow, what a turn of events we had here.

But I wasn’t that stupid.

“So you can kick me in the junk and claim assault? Yeah, right. I haven’t been hit in the head that many times, honey.” I moved in closer. Fuck, I think the world might have stopped when she took in a breath.

Gasping a bit, she looked up at me. “I wouldn’t. I’m asking for it.”

“So you’re telling me you are?”

She took in another breath, her chin high and challenge in her eyes. She was convinced I wouldn’t do it. “I am ’cause I know you won’t do it.”