Clipped by Love (Bellevue Bullies #2) (9 page)

She cheered like she should; she’s a great player. But if Jude or Jace would have scored the way she did, they would have shoved it down my throat, kicked me in the balls, and then given me shit for weeks. All Baylor did was look me in the eye and I knew that she thought she was better than me. I don’t know which is worse, honestly. I don’t like losing, and I really don’t like losing to a girl. But again, I don’t think she’s really a real girl. Though, I felt her against me. Was engrossed in her intoxicating and musky smell. Saw down her tank, the curve of her breasts, the thickness of her ass and thighs. I found myself begging to taste the red of her lips. To be the one to smear it along her jaw and off her lips. I don’t know what girl wears bright red lipstick like that and can puck-handle the way she can, but I’m pretty sure Baylor is not real. She may be all female, but she’s a dude when it comes to hockey. That’s the only thing I can come up with, and she’s probably the only one of her kind.

And I’m completely taken with her.

Her drive, her body, her talent, and that smile! She may not be my type, but she is what I want in a girl. I want someone who will challenge me and make me better. She does that with one look. The only problem is I’ll probably never see her again once she leaves this house. I have no clue where she is from, but I’m pretty sure if a girl like that were in Nashville, I’d know about her.

She’d be mine.

I don’t even know why I thought that, though. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. She just wanted to beat me. At first, I thought maybe she wanted to get some, but after that ass-beating, I’m sure she has one thing in mind and that’s winning. It’s very disappointing, but oh well, on with her then. It isn’t like I have time for girls right now anyway.

Climbing up the stairs, a little slower than normal, I am thankful I have a couple more weeks before hockey camp starts. I just took a beating, and I’m pretty sure I couldn’t handle camp right now. Hell, I might sleep the rest of the weekend. Starting now. Passing the kitchen where everyone is laughing and cooking, I ignore the jabs about losing to Baylor and don’t even look to see her smug face. I decide that I’m kinda over everyone right now. I honestly want to sleep and forget her completely. It’s for the best anyway, no matter how much I want to fuck her.

Going down the hall to my room, I shut the door behind me and look out the window that has a gorgeous view of the beach and ocean. Jude was excited when he rented this house. He thought it would be a good escape and he was right. For the last two days, when I’m not actually on the beach, I have the doors open, the crisp ocean air flowing into my room as I lie in bed, reading. I have a paper due on the first day of school for my summer read,
The Learning Tree
. I’m not one of those people who wait until the last minute to finish an assignment and want to write the paper on the flight home on Monday. Maybe I’ll go ahead and finish the book after my shower. Sounds like a way better plan than going down and dealing with my brothers and fighting my need for her. They’ll probably give me more shit for hiding in my room, so really, it’s a lose-lose situation for me.

Ah, fuck it.

Throwing my shirt off and then my shorts, I push the door open and find that my bathroom is occupied.

Yeah, I admit it. I yell like a girl.

Which in return makes Baylor scream.

“Oh my God! You scared the shit out of me!” she yells from where she stands in front of my sink, holding a rag to her chest as the water runs.

Pointing at myself, I gasp for breath as I say, “Me? You’re in my bathroom! With no damn warning. Lock the damn door!”

“I didn’t think anyone would come in if it was shut!”

“Um, yeah. I shut it before I left.”

“Whatever. You’re insane.”

She glares at me and I glare back, and then for some reason we both start laughing.

“You act like I’m a spider or something,” she says through her airy laugh. “I’m just cleaning my battle wounds.”

Leaning against the door, I shake my head. “I don’t like surprises.”

She smiles as she shuts the water off, throwing her leg up so she can inspect the cuts on her legs. I take in her inner thigh, and man, I itch to reach out and touch her, but that would be bad since she wants nothing to do with me. I may joke and tease that I wanna score against her, but I don’t go into something unless I know I can win.

“I can tell,” she says before looking back at me. I watch as her eyes run down my body, but when her eyes go wide, my brows come together, confused. When I look down, though, I realize why.

I’m buck-ass naked.

“Oh, shit,” I say, covering my junk and backing out the door to grab my shorts as she giggles. My face burns as I pull my shorts up before glancing back at her. She isn’t looking at me, but her cheeks are red too as she cleans her wounds, trying to act like she didn’t just see every inch of me.

“Guess, I need to take back my comment about the size of your dick, huh?” she says, and this time I see her eyes cut back to me, roaming along where my dick is hidden in my shorts.

Hmm. Maybe I’m reading her wrong. Maybe she is interested, she just doesn’t want to be.

I scoff as I lean against the door. “Like what you see, Moore?”

She grins but then cringes as she wipes the rocks out of her cut. “I’m not dead, Sinclair. I like dick.”

“Oh, I thought you may like pussy.”

Cutting me a dirty look, she shakes her head. “No. I don’t.”

I didn’t think so, but to be sure, I needed clarification. “Good to know.”

“And since you’ve done nothing but lick your lips and stare at my inner thigh, I’m guessing
you
like pussy?”

Observant one, this one is. Nodding my head, I get my fill of her as I say, “Like isn’t a strong enough word.”

“What word would you use then?” she asks low, in a throaty, sexy, naughty way before looking over at me.

Meeting her gaze, I say, matching her tone, “Crave. Need. Desire. Want. Yearn. Love.”

Heat creeps up her neck, and soon my cock is pressing against my shorts. I don’t know what this feeling is, but man, I like it. Sucking in a breath, I watch as she leans forward, grabbing another rag and wetting it.

“Have a way with words, I see,” she says, moving the rag along her face to clean up. “I’m almost done here.”

“Take your time,” I say, watching as she cleans her face and then her neck. “Give me a chance, and I can show you exactly what I can do with my words.”

She looks at me and then shakes her head. “I’m sure that will lead to something we’d both regret.”

“A night with you is not something I’d regret.”

Cutting her eyes back to the mirror, she shakes her head. “I would.”

Hot and cold, this chick is. Chuckling, I look down before asking, “How long you been playing?”

Expelling a breath, she answers as she moves the rag along her jaw tenderly. “My dad says I learned to skate before I walked.”

I smile. “So a while, then?”

“I’m almost twenty-one, so, yeah, a while.”

I nod. She’s my age, but she has been playing longer than me. I doubt her dad was joking when he said that; her game speaks for itself.

Looking over at me, she asks, “You?”

“Since I was about five.”

“Cool, you’re good.”

“You are too.”

“I know,” she says, sending me a grin before looking back at the mirror. “You need to work on your wrist shot. You missed a lot because it’s not very accurate. You have size to you though, maybe consider playing defense instead.”

I smile, not the least bit offended. “I do play defense.”

Cutting her eyes to me, she seems surprised. “Two-way player. That’s lethal.”

“I think so,” I say with a nod.

“Why didn’t you go into the draft then?”

I shrug. “Must have been that wrist shot holding me back.”

Meeting my gaze, she nods. “Probably. You really should work on it. You’ll be killer with that and a real asset in the NHL.”

I like that she thinks that, and it makes me want to go outside to practice now, but instead I say, “I’ll be sure to work on that as soon as I get home.”

“Nashville?” she asks. “Who do you play for?”

“The Bellevue Bullies,” I answer, and she nods as she reaches into her pocket, pulling out a tube of lipstick. Leaning toward the mirror, she paints her lips with the killer red lipstick before looking over at me.

“They won the championship last year. Good team.”

“Agreed. Going for it again this year,” I say, crossing my arms. “Where is home for you?”

“Arkansas is where I go to school,” she informs me, and I don’t miss that it isn’t her home.

“Do you play there?”

She nods, leaning her hip to the sink. “Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, crossing her arms below her breasts, pushing them up some. Running my tongue along my lips, I try to look away but they are so delectable. The perfect size, a good handful. Or mouthful. I want to push her against the sink, touch her mouth with mine and devour her. Show her who’s boss when it comes to the bedroom, but something about her stance is telling me she is completely off-limits.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” I suddenly ask like a dumbass.

Her brows come together as she scoffs. “Why do you ask?”

I shrug. “I want to know.”

“Why?”

She eyes me, that challenging look in her eyes. I don’t know why that look turns me on, but it does. Swallowing, I push off the doorframe and shrug. “Because you give off a very off-limits vibe.”

“I am off-limits.”

“So you do have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, hockey.”

“That must be boring,” I say with a grin.

“Eh, that’s debatable,” she says, coming off the sink. “Plus, a guy can’t handle me. No one can.”

Grinning, I say, “I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure I can handle you. The problem would be that you’d be the one unable to handle me.”

She smiles, her lips shiny and taunting before she shrugs. “Too bad we’ll never find out.”

“I don’t know… We could. My bed is right there,” I say, cocking my head toward my bed as I stuff my hands in my pockets, causing my shorts to inch down more. Like I wanted, her eyes cut down but just as quickly go back up to meet my gaze. She then looks past me at my bed before looking back up at me. Her eyes narrow, but I don’t miss the heat in them. She may be telling me no, acting as if it’s the worst idea in the world, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to.

That she doesn’t want me.

Because she does.

I just know it.

“Oh, well, let me quickly take my clothes off, then.”

“Would you like some help?” I ask even though I know she is being sarcastic.

Rolling her eyes, she says, “In your dreams, Sinclair.”

She goes to pass me, but I don’t move, my eyes boring into hers. Heat is rolling off her in waves, burning my skin from the close proximity. I want to touch her, reach out and just feel her skin under my fingertips. Holding her gaze, I decide that I have to. I have to touch her. Cautiously and slowly, my finger runs along her jaw where the puck hit her. She doesn’t flinch or even move; the only reason I know she feels my touch is the sharp intake of breath.

Her lips part as I slowly move my thumb along her jaw. It’s swelling up and she’s gonna have one hell of a shiner. I feel bad. I don’t want her to hurt, but then if I’m honest, I’m really not thinking about her being hurt. More like kissing the living shit out of her.

Almost in a whisper, I say, “You need ice on that.”

She nods. “That’s my next stop.”

“So no proving who can’t handle who in my bed?”

“I don’t need to prove it. We both know I’ll win.”

I scoff. “I think that’s up for discussion.”

Her breathing is coming out faster, her eyes dark as she holds my gaze. “Maybe, but I don’t want to be a part of that discussion.”

“Ever?”

Shaking her head, she says, “Never.”

When she goes to move past me, I allow her. Turning, I watch as she heads for the door, and I don’t miss how she looks back at my bed. When she glances over at me, I smile.

“Don’t say never, Moore.”

She laughs as she opens the door, stepping out of it before looking back at me. “I don’t say anything I don’t mean, Sinclair.”

She says my name in a way that’s almost sinful. And again, she may be saying one thing, but that body of hers is screaming something entirely different. She may think no one can handle her, but I can, and I can definitely read her. She wants me. She’s just fighting it, and I want to know why.

Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “We’ll see about that.”

Rolling her eyes, she shuts the door with a little more force than needed, and I can’t help but laugh. As I push my shorts down and go into the bathroom to start my shower, I decide that hiding in my room is the worst idea in the world.

Because the best idea is to go down and prove her wrong.