Page 5 of Dirty Puck

It took a second for my eyes to focus. “Why are you doing this?”

“I like getting my rocks off, too, but the club’s been getting publicity for the wrong reasons. We had a meeting yesterday—I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say, I won’t compromise my spot on the team for pussy.”

“I’m not even sure how I feel about you, and now you want to have sex with me?”

“I don’t want sex—I want tohardcore fuckyou.”

The idea of getting naked with Reece fascinated me yet scared the crap out of me at the same time. He clearly came complete with what a woman required in the bedroom. I couldn’t deny that. But at the same time, would he be able to say the same about me? Still… “So this is a friends-with-benefits arrangement, then?”

“We’re not friends, but we’ll both benefit. That’s a promise.”

“If we do this, I need one more promise from you.”

“What do you need?”

I need one more promise from you?Why did I say that? Squeezing my eyes shut to get my bearings, I took in a breath, needing that time to think up some kind of response that didn’t make me appear like a complete and utter loser to one of the hottest men in the NHL. As I tried to think up something to get me out of the corner I’d backed myself into, it hit me. The perfect answer. Feelings often ended up as the price you paid for sleeping with the same person over and over. Lord knew I needed to develop feelings for the man about as much as I needed a kick in the head with a golf shoe.

“Spit it out. I don’t have all day,” he snapped, but not necessarily unkindly, if that made any sense.

Because of that, Reece got lucky that I decided to be the bigger person and kept my knee from his groin.

I opened my eyes, nodded once, and said, “You can’t fall in love with me.” Yeah—it had sounded better in my head. I’d heard it in a movie once and always wanted to try it out on someone. Why didn’t I keep my stupid mouth shut? He had to be thinking all kinds of unflattering things about me, but given it was out in the world now, I had to run with it.

“I can’t what?”

“You heard me. You can’t see me as anything more than a fuck buddy because I can’t give you anything back.”

“Baby, I won’t see you as anything more than a fuck.”

What made me even contemplate this? He hardly spoke two words to me on any given day, and I wasn’t particularly fond of his ass for ignoring me, no matter how incredibly fine that ass might’ve been.

“Take out your phone.” Reece pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans and I rattled off my number, giving him time to type it into his contacts. Then I waited as he pressed to call me, giving me his number back. After adding it to my contacts, which I listed him asGrunts, I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “Listen, I have to get back to work.”

“I’ll text when I got an itch to scratch.”

“Cool. I might not always be available. I dance at the club and then I have my boy.”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him one way or another. “You’ll text when you’ve got time and we’ll arrange a hookup.”

And that was that.

“Should we shake hands or something?” I asked to his accompanying snicker.

“No. We don’t fucking shake hands.” Idiot that I was, I melted into the kiss he offered instead. What the hell was wrong with me? Getting swept up by Baker Reece.Not smart, Bree.

Well, it didn’t matter. He pushed me off as soon as he had his fill, snickered, patted my ass, and walked away.

Are you shitting me?Part of me had the mind to call the asshole back and tell him the whole agreement was off. The more sensible side of me felt like this arrangement made more sense than hitting the bars to get laid. And safer. I had my son to think about.

My little Benny, the one true love of my life. On that thought, I got back down to work wiping down the lockers.

Two hours later at the end of shift, I rolled my cart back to the storage room and then walked to the employee break room to fetch my purse. I sat down just to breathe, almost sitting on my phone. When I pulled it from my pocket, I had a text from Reece. Rather than text back, I pressed his contact. It seemed more practical.

“You got me,” he answered.

“I can’t tonight. I have to take Benny to his therapy and get him dinner. Then he has to go to the sitter because I dance at Slits tonight. I won’t be home until three.”

“‘Therapy’?” he asked. “Wait, none of my business. What’s your address?”

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