Page 16 of The Bad Boy Rule

“Why do you even care?”

He doesn’t immediately respond, the silence hanging heavily between us, and I think he might actually not even answer my question. Finally, he says, “I don’t know. Call me curious.”

“Whatever, fine. I’ll agree to your stupid bet. Let’s just get this over with,” I huff, rolling my eyes.

“I’ve got an extra stick over there in the penalty box,” he responds with a nod toward the box at the side of the rink that I have no doubt he is very well acquainted with. I was going to ask him why he would just carry extra sticks around, and then I realize that I’ve seen them snap a hundred times, so it’s probably good to have a backup.

I didn’t even think I was going to speak to him at all today, at least not if I could help it, and I certainly didn’t expect him to ask any questions about me or my life. I honestly never thought I’dhaveanykind of conversation with him outside of us being rude to each other. So, I’m slightly taken aback as I make my way over to the penalty box, pushing through the low door and grabbing the well-used hockey stick that’s leaned against the boards.

Once I skate back to where he’s standing, he nods his head. “Back up some.”

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve rolled my eyes at this point. Like a few feet is truly going to make the difference. “Really? Are you intimidated by me hitting a little, tinypuckat you?”

“Nah, but if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it fair. It’s so easy, remember? It’s not rocket science.” His voice is mocking as his lips curve into a cocky, full-of-himself grin. “Time to prove it, Golden Girl.”

Ugh. Iloathehim.

EIGHT

SAINT

Every time I call her Golden Girl, the more mad she gets, and admittedly, that only makes me want to do itmore.

See just how pissed off I can get her, taunting her until that good girl facade drops.

Piece by piece.

I like seeing the fire blazing bright in her eyes, and the second I got a glimpse… I wanted more.

That’s why we’re facing off in front of the net right now, even though there’s not a chance in fucking hell she’s getting that puck by me in her frilly, short little skirt and leotard.

Not even if it’s slightly distracting with the way it’s seated around her curves.

No shot.

“Let’s go. What are you waiting for?” I arch my brow as I bend my knees deeper in a squat above the ice. “Unless you’re scared? We can always call it like it is. You forf?—”

“Shut up,” she cuts me off. “I’m just thinking of my strategy.Do notrush me, Devereaux.”

My lip twitches. “Well, can you strategize a little quicker? Some of us have other things to do than play with a spoiled princess all day.”

I soak up every bit of the indignant look on her face. I’m fucked-up, but I never claimed to be anything else.

I think there’s a technical term for it, but I’m too busy staring at her pretty little lips, which are twisted into a scowl, to think of it.

“You know, I find it hard to believe that you arethismuch of an asshole,” she says, shooting daggers across the ice at me with her eyes.

“Believe it. Actually, give me a little more time, and you’ll see I’m even more of an asshole than you thought. Now, shoot. The. Damn. Puck.”

Chin raised, she cuts a final look at me before squaring her shoulders and swinging the stick. It’s almost as tall as she is because my stick is fit for me, and I’m almost six five with skates on.

The puck lands directly between my legs, which I block by turning my foot to the side and letting the puck rebound off the blade of my skate, barely moving at all.

“Shit.” The low curse floats between us, and I smirk, cocking a brow. “Don’t move from that stupid net. That was just… a bad shot.”

Mhmmmm.

“It’s so easy. Stick… puck… net.” I slap the puck back to her with a flick of my wrist. “Right?” Her eyes narrow into slits, and I grin, dropping back down into a defensive position, hips bent, eyes holding hers.

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