Page 67 of Rush the Edge

With all her mighty anger, Daisy winds up and shoots the puck from the other side of the ice, only to miss it by several yards.

I hold back a laugh. “Strip, baby.”

She glares at me, and it’s adorable. “Don’t call me baby.”

I place my back to her because watching her discard another piece of clothing will get my dick putting dirty little thoughts in my head just like when I had her at my mercy in that closet a few nights ago.

“There!” she shouts from across the rink.

I turn with the puck at my stick and do a double-take. My breath catches, and those dirty thoughts shoot right up from my balls and into my head.

“Planning on getting fucked later? What the hell is that?” I point at her see-through bra with my stick.

I didn’t think this through.

I never think things through when it comes to her.

“What?” Daisy glances down at her bra. “This old thing?”

This old thing.

This old thing?

Did she wear it on purpose? In case I cornered her in her dressing room again?

“Something wrong, Kane?” From across the ice, I can see her eyelashes fluttering.

It’s almost as if she doesn’t remember who she’s playing against. I smirk and skate to her quickly. She panics at the last second and tries to scramble away, only for her to practically slip backward.

My arm snakes around her lower back, her bare skin scorching my palm in the process.“Oh, you want to play dirty?” I press her close to my chest and exhale into her face. “I can play dirty, Daisy. I’ll have you stripped bare within seconds. Is that what you want?”

I wish I could read her mind. The wheels are turning behind her eyes, and the color on her cheeks comes back even brighter than before. I expect her to push me away and throw an insult at me, but as always, she surprises me. “I don’t know, Kane. Is that whatyouwant?”

I study her lips.

Those pretty pink lips.

I drop my attention to her cleavage pressing against my chest. The longer I look at her and feel her skin against mine, the more I notice her nipples pressing against the cotton of my hoodie.

This cat-and-mouse game we’ve suddenly found ourselves in is addictive. The pushing and pulling, the tugging and clawing. At this point, I’m not sure who’s winning and who’s losing.

“Don’t push me to make a point, Daisy…because you know I will,” I whisper.

She rolls her eyes, and it’s nothing but encouragement for me. I tug her in closer. A breath whooshes from her mouth and lands on mine. I lick my lips, hoping to get the faintest taste of her against my tongue, in hopes that it'll be enough to get me to back down.

It doesn’t.

My stick slowly slips from my other hand, and I graze her bare arm, watching little goosebumps race to her flesh. A shiver works down her spine, so I hold on to her tightly while gazing at her mouth. I creep my hand up her body, landing with my fingers tangled in her hair.

Her breathing is sharp and fast. “What are you doing?”

The majority of the lights above our heads turn off, and she gasps, pushing herself farther onto me.

Fuck.

The faintest graze of her against my dick makes me weak at the knees. She’s winning, and she doesn’t even know it.

I try to remember the whole point of the game. I repeat her flirty threat in my head and remember how she insinuated that I’m the one who wants her naked and not the other way around.

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