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.

“You need to have sex with Jayden. Like everywhere.”

Looking around quickly to make sure that no one is in the room, I look at Delanie incredulously. I can’t believe I am still surprised by the fact that she has no damn filter.