The Pucking Girl Next Door (Power Play Off The Ice: Snowed in for the Hoildays)

7. Smith

Chapter 7

Smith

I 'm dumbfounded. This can't be the same girl that I grew up with. My cock fucking hardens in my pants as I stare at the woman I've been missing from my life.

Annabelle fucking Rogers.

The girl who would tag along with me and her brother everywhere we went as we were growing up. Damn. I clench my hands together trying to keep them to myself, because this girl is not a girl anymore. She is all woman.

I drink her in. She is just my type a tiny little thing only coming up to my chest with long blonde hair that falls down her back dark blue eyes and curves to die for. And all I can seem to think about is how I want to explore every freaking one of them.

With my hands.

My tongue.

My cock.

I drop my gaze to the ground because shit, I should not be thinking about my best friend's little sister like that. No, I should not be thinking about her in any sexual way.

That's not what you're here for. You're here to make a plan and figure out how to get your game better.

Steve might've suggested finding someone to help release the tension, but I'm not sure he would appreciate it if that person was her.

I shake my head, trying to actively remove the lust filled thoughts from my head. But to no avail because with every glance of her they're back.

Needing to move on and think of anything else, I try to change the subject by bringing up her family. "I thought your whole family was in the Bahamas?"

"They are. Why are you here?" she replies immediately but doesn't answer the underlining question I was asking.

Why isn't she with her family?

I allow her to focus back on me for at least the moment. "Steve said I could use the house to help me relax."

The little pixie across from me narrows her eyes while crossing her arms across her breast. She seems to be saying something, but I can't hear what it is because all I can focus on is how her arms are pushing up her boobs. It's hard to tell how big they are because she's wearing a huge sweater, but the attention to them has me wondering what they would look like underneath. Are they so big they would overflow my hands? Or would they fit in my palms perfectly? Would she let me lick them? My cock hardens further as each question enters my mind.

"Smith!" she yells my name, pulling me from the fantasy of her perfect tits.

"Yes?" I ask as I look back up at her face, and I can see the pinkness in her cheeks. Is that from me checking her out, or is she mad at me? Either way, it's cute.

"Did you hear me?"

I clear my throat as the heat creeps up my neck. Now it's my turn to be embarrassed. "Ugh, no?"

"Is that a question?" she asks with an amused smile.

"Fine. I said that the power is out at my cottage, so I'll have to stay here until I can get a flight out to the Bahamas. Sorry, but I'll have to invade your alone time."

My smile drops. I don't like that. If she stays here with me, then it will be harder for me to keep my hands to myself, because all I can think about is how much I want to touch her. Nope, I can't do that. I'll have to make sure I keep my distance from her, because I can't do that to my best friend. And even though he's never came out and said I need to stay away from his sister, it's bro code. You don't mess with family. For now, I'll just have to hope that she'll be able to get a flight out to see her family soon.

"Sorry. I promise I'll stay out of your way. You won't even know I'm here."

Yeah right. I'll definitely know she's here. I'll always know she's here. But I say nothing, staying silent.

After a beat, she says, "I'm going to walk around the property to see if the snowstorm from last night ruined anything."

Not trusting myself to say anything else, I just nod as I watch her walk down the hall, away from me.

***

For the last few hours I've done a pretty good job at keeping my distance from the little pixie, but it seems that time has ended when I enter the kitchen and she's standing at the stove in leggings and a tank top. Where the hell did her sweater go? Her toned arms flex as she stirs the contents on the stove, and I can feel myself thicken under my sweats. Damn, when did I start getting turned on by arms?

Usually, I'm an ass or boobs guy. I don't ever think I've been attracted to anyone's arms. Speaking of ass, my eyes drop to hers and man, it's perfect. Everything about her is perfect. It's going to be hard to not act. Suddenly, she spins around and gives a little squeal when she sees me. I can't help but give a little smile at her response.

"Shit," she yelps as her hand comes up to her heart. "Smith why do you keep sneaking up on me?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean too. I was just coming in here to make myself something to eat," I say as I begin to move toward the refrigerator.

She puts her hands up freezing me in place. "I already made dinner I was just about to come find you."

My brow furrows in confusion. "What do you mean, you made dinner?"

"Exactly what I said," she says as she scoops something in a bowl, once it's full she pushes toward me.

I look down at the bowl, then back at the woman in front of me. "You made chili?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "Yeah. I remember your mom used to make it and besides, it's perfect for a night like tonight."

I close my eyes at her response taking a deep breath to help keep my emotions in check. She's right my mom did make chili for me when I was a kid, and though it brings back wonderful memories, sometimes those memories hit me with a wave of sadness.

Her soft fingers grip my forearm, pulling my attention to her. I look back up at her face and I can see that her eyes are glistening. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make you sad. If you want, I can make you something else." she says as she goes to grab the bowl.

My hand comes out and grips her wrist. "No. I don't want to eat anything else."

"Okay," she whispers, then realizing that she's still holding me she lets go and continues, "Theres toppings right on the table," she explains.

"Thank you," I say as I head to the kitchen table.

Once I'm done adding the toppings she sits down in a chair across from me, fixing her own bowl. We continue this way for most of dinner, allowing me time to think about when my mom used to make chili for me and my dad. My mom never knew how to make a small amount, so it was always inevitable that she would make too much, but we never wasted it. She would pack it up and take it next door to the Roger's house.

I still can't believe that Annabelle remembered but I really shouldn't be that surprised because even as kids, Annabelle always thought of others. Making sure that everyone was happy.

Taking a chance, I look up at her over my bowl and can't help but smile when I see her eating. It's nice to know life hasn't taken that kindness away from her.