Puck Prince (Houston Scythes Hockey #1)

4. Owen

4

OWEN

I can’t help the smile on my face as I make my way to the fridge for another cold one. My hair is a mess, my dopamine is through the roof, and I feel pretty damn good. As I pop the cap and take a swig of the icy, golden goodness, I let out a contented sigh.

I have to admit: despite the endless lineup of women that have passed in and out of my apartment in the last couple months, it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex that great.

I lean back against the counter, my eyes on the bathroom door. Callie needed to freshen up. Get her land legs back. I gifted her a pair of gym shorts and even offered a jersey to wear over her thin tank top. Let no one say I’m not a gentleman.

Although, the need for a new outfit is at least fifty percent my fault. The top fifty percent. Her tank is… stretched out now. A little torn. There could be teeth marks.

Whoops.

I pull my phone out, my thumb hovering over the text thread with Lance. He said I needed to “have fun.” The details of this evening would not disappoint. Might even earn me a Goddamn, brother! That’s what I’m talking about! But something holds me back. Something makes my smirk fade a bit.

Normally, I’d brag.

Normally, I’m one and done.

Normally, I’d send the girl on her way, head light and legs heavy.

This time wasn’t the norm.

This girl… isn’t my norm.

“What planet are you lost on?” Callie’s voice breaks into my thoughts, actually making me jump.

“Fuck. What?”

She gives me an odd look and sort of laughs. “You doing alright there, champ?”

I stand up straight and saunter over in her direction—no shirt, abs on display, sweatpants hanging low on my hips. “I’m great. Why wouldn’t I be?”

But she ain’t buyin’ it. She studies me. I stare back. She blinks first—ha!—and then looks away. Phoneless, she looks up at the clock on the wall. “I wonder if Kennedy is back yet.”

My eyes skate over her body. She’s positively swimming in my jersey and shorts. Yet she still looks adorable.

Back up, Sharpe. Adorable is not in your vocab. “Sexy” works. “Hot” suffices. Never “adorable.” Get a grip, man.

“Thanks for the clothes,” she mumbles when the silence gets a bit too awkward for her liking.

I take a sip of beer. “No problem. That jersey looks almost as good on you as it does on me.”

She looks down at it. “You a Scythes fan?”

I stop, realizing only now what jersey I gave her. “They’re… alright.”

“Alright enough that you’d spend a hundred-plus bucks at their gift shop?”

I offer a casual half-shrug. “I like jerseys.”

Callie finds the response acceptable, and I inwardly let out a sigh of relief. She doesn’t need to know any more than she already knows. But when she yawns, I can’t help but notice how cute her smile is when she's sleepy. How bright the blue in her eyes is when the sun is down. How perfectly snuggly she looks in my clothes and how warm she’d be lying in my bed.

It’s been a long time since I’ve fallen asleep with anyone.

That thought right there is exactly why she cannot stay the night.

“Listen, I just remembered something.” I slip out through the front door. Callie follows and watches in curiosity as I reach over the arch of Kennedy’s door and touch around until I find what I’m looking for. “Kennedy might have a spare key.”

Callie’s expression goes from confused, to surprised, to mad.

Very, very mad.

“Are you… fucking serious right now?”

I turn the key over in my hand, holding it out to her. “Yeah. I guess I forgot when we were out?—”

“There was a key this whole time. You knew there was a key this whole time, but you just happened to forget.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. It’s a damn felony conviction, if her tone of voice is anything to go by.

“You’re the one who interrupted my night, remember? You needed help, but had to be a stubborn brat about it.”

“I needed help, so you forgot about the most helpful thing while you were busy luring me into your apartment so you could help yourself. Christ, I knew I should’ve stayed far away from you.” She bites her lips like she wants to say more, shaking her head.

“I guess the key slipped my mind while I was helping you not get electrocuted and/or fall to your death out there.”

I’m not angry. Not really. But this woman gets me riled up. Just the tension between us right now has me heated enough for a round two.

She reaches for the key in my hand. “You got me to have sex with you. Well played, Owen. Well pl?—”

I don’t let her take the key or finish the sentence. Instead, I close the space between us faster than she can process. Before she can fight it, I have her pinned against the door with my body.

Callie gasps, and I grin. My lips are one breath away from touching hers. “You’re glad I didn’t tell you about the key until now. Admit it.”

She is on the defensive, but her smile matches my own. God, she’s salty. “And why would I be happy about that?”

I press myself a little closer. I am full mast again, and I want her to feel it. “I think you know. I think that while I had you waiting out on that balcony, cold and stuck with nowhere to go, your pretty little head was spinning trying to figure out how to get on my side. In my apartment. With me.”

Callie’s chest is rising and falling jaggedly, but she laughs. “You are too much.”

“Yeah?” I cup my palm behind the nape of her neck. “How much?”

I don’t wait for an answer before I cover her mouth with mine. And she kisses me back, her body melting, throat humming. She stands on her tiptoes to reach higher, to kiss deeper. Then she takes my hand. I start to lace my fingers with hers, but before I can, she swipes the key away and pushes me back.

I nearly fall over as the contact is ripped away, my equilibrium spinning. All I can do is watch as she unlocks her cousin’s door and slips inside.

“Jesus fucking Chr—” The door closes. The deadbolt goes thunk.

And the hallway has never felt quieter.

I’m not usually one to get thrown off my game, but even I have to admit that Winnie the Pooh here has me zigging when she zags. It’s… disorienting, to say the least. Tantalizing, to say the most.

But fuck me, I need a cold shower. I need to shock the crazy thoughts I am having from my brain and fix the current problem in my pants. I walk back to my own apartment, but just as I am about to go inside, the door of the elevator opens.

And my heart plummets into my stomach.

“What are you doing here?” I blink as the woman stalks towards me.

“I need a place to stay.” She is practically begging. I look over at Kennedy’s door, both impressed by and nauseous over the perfect timing.

Thank God she didn’t see Callie. And thank fuck Callie didn’t see her.

Or who she’s got with her.