Page 13 of Playing the Pucking Game
He doesn’t move or say anything for long seconds. They’re agonizing, but I can’t do anything about it.
“Come on, let’s get you into bed,” he finally says before pushing the door open.
His words drag me back to reality almost as much as the slam of his car door. What he said to piss me off at the party earlier rings out in my head, and a little bit of my previous frustration edges its way in.
“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” I hiss the second he opens my door.
“Whoa,” he says, rearing back a little as if I just slapped him. “I was gone for like, three seconds,” he reasons.
“Earlier, you said about getting me into your bed. That is not what is happening.”
He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Jeez, I was just trying to have a laugh with you earlier, babe. I hate to say it, but you looked sad. That’s why I came over to perk up your New Year’s.”
“Oh great. So not only was it a midnight kiss I didn’t want, it was a pity kiss at that.”
He sighs. “It wasn’t out of pity, Parker.”
“Then why?” I probe.
He’s Lincoln Storm. The Joker, the Playboy, the guy you go to if you want a good time.
He saw an opportunity to fuck with me, and he went for it.
It wasn’t the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
His playful grin drops, and his eyes soften. “Because no one should start a new year feeling sad, Parker. Least of all you, when you’ve got so much to look forward to.”
My mouth opens to say something, but I quickly discover I have no words.
He’s right. No one should go into a new year feeling how I was in the seconds leading up to the ball drop. But is being irritated by your best friend’s brother when he decides to kiss you unannounced any better?
I’m yanked from my thoughts—literally—as he reaches in, grabs my hand, and effortlessly pulls me from the car.
On any other day, I might fight him, especially as he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to release me.
I breathe a sigh of relief when his hand finally drops mine, but it only lasts a second, because as we wait for the elevator to take us to his penthouse, he throws his arm around my shoulder and tugs me into his body.
“Come on, Little P. I hate seeing you sad.”
“My life just went up in flames. I’m allowed to be sad,” I mutter as we enter the enclosed space.
4
LINCOLN
Parker doesn’t say anything else as we rise through the building.
I’m aware that she’s never been up here before, and all I can think about is the state I left it in before heading out earlier.
I shouldn’t care what she thinks, not that she’s in any kind of state to notice, but I do.
Parker already has enough opinions about me and the way I live my life. I don’t need her adding more reasons to be irritated by me.
Unease prickles at me as I think about what I’m doing here.
I have never had anyone else stay with me before besides Rett or my little sister, every now and then, when she needs a break from her life.
I certainly have never had a woman stay here.
