Page 144 of Playing the Pucking Game
“Any requests?”
She thinks for a moment before saying, “Surprise me,” and disappearing into her room.
The second I’m inside mine, I abandon my suitcase against the wall and drop my duffle bag on top of it. Falling onto my bed,I pull my cell from my pocket and scroll through a delivery app, trying to figure out what she might want.
I place our order, shower, shave, pull on a fresh pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and I’m lounging on the couch with drinks for both of us long before she emerges from her room.
She walks toward me in an oversized hoodie. It’s obvious it’s a man’s, and it sends a shot of red-hot jealousy through me.
“Whose is that?” I demand, unable to stop myself.
She blinks at me, confused. “Whose is what?” she asks hesitantly.
“The hoodie. Whose is it?”
It takes her a moment, but I know the second a smile appears on her lips, she understands my issue.
“Why does it matter whose it is?”
My fists curl on my lap and my teeth grind hard enough to crack one.
“Because it does. Whose is it?”
She chuckles as if this is the funniest thing she’s ever heard as she sits on the edge of the couch and points toward one of the sodas on the coffee table. “Is that for me?”
“Don’t try to be cute and distract me. Whose hoodie is that?”
“Christ, Linc. Possessive much?” She rolls her eyes at me, and I can’t stop myself. I jump to my feet and storm across the room. “Where are you going?” she calls, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
After finding my favorite hoodie, I march back into the room with it locked in my hand.
“Take it off,” I demand, my voice hard and leaving no room for argument. Although this is Parker, she always manages to be a brat and drive me to the brink of insanity.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Take. It. Off.”
“Linc, you’re being ridic?—”
“Take it the fuck off, Parker. Before I do it for you.” My entire body trembles with my need to rip the fabric from her.
It’s irrational, fucking insane, but I can’t fucking stop it.
“What if I don’t have anything underneath?” she asks, fanning the flames that are raging.
“Then it really will be my lucky day,” I state, taking a step closer to where she’s still sitting.
I loom over her, waiting, silently praying that she’ll defy me and force me to deal with this situation myself.
My fucking pleasure.
I’ll have that hoodie in shreds before she knows what’s happening. I might even watch it go up in flames for good measure.
Her eyes hold mine, defiance flashing in their golden depths.
Bring it, Donnelly. Let’s see who really holds the power here.
After a couple of agonizing seconds, she shifts forward before pushing to her feet.
