Page 221 of Playing the Pucking Game
“I-I think we should probably call it a day,” she says, her voice deep and raspy. It hits me right in the balls, but despite my need to reach out and drag her back, she steps away, putting way too much space between us.
“Parker, I didn’t mean?—”
She looks around, her eyes darting to each corner of the room as if we’re being watched.
“You should go.”
“W-what?” I stutter like an idiot. I can’t help it; all the blood in my body has ventured south, and my brain is hanging on by a thread.
“You need to go. We can’t…I can’t…” Her hand gestures to my crotch. “If someone saw…if Mitchell?—”
“Fuck that motherfucker. I don’t give a fuck what he thinks.”
Something I don’t like flickers in her eyes. I think it’s fear. But that can’t be right.
There’s no way on Earth my girl is scared of that pussy.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on. That’s the whole fucking point. And yet you’re sitting there like that as if it’s the best day of your life.”
“Maybe it is. I woke up with a pretty girl in my arms, and I just scored a hatty. Who knows where this day could take me next?”
“To Texas,” Parker deadpans.
“Where the possibilities are endless.”
Her expression is blank, her excitement for what might come non-existent. Her walls are up so high right now, I’m not sure even I can scale them.
“You’re wasting time,” she tells me.
I frown, confused as fuck.
“For what?”
“Matilda.”
My frown deepens.
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“She’ll fix your little issue right up, I bet.” Her eyes dart to my crotch again, and I smirk.
“Little? I think we both know that?—”
A bang sounds from somewhere behind us, and when I glance over, I see a shadow move in the office doorway.
“You need to go, Linc. Now.”
Her hard, determined eyes hold mine, and I quickly find myself sliding from the table.
“You can finish this off later, though, right?”
I mean my legs.
I totally mean my legs.
“Leave, Storm.”
