six

MAYA

"Are you just going to stand there and watch him walk away, or are you going to breathe?" Davies asked, his voice cutting through the thick tension in the rink.

Nathan’s broad shoulders disappeared down the concrete tunnel. The echo of his heavy boots faded into the buzzing noise of the arena. My chest tightened. A weird, suffocating knot formed in my throat. We had spent years together. High school prom, college applications, endless late nights studying. Now he was just a furious stranger hurling threats at me in public.

"This feels wrong," a sigh escaped my lips. Rubbing my temples, a dull ache started to pound behind my eyes. "Everything is moving too fast. Yesterday I was his girl, and today we are screaming at each other on the ice. It is a lot."

Davies leaned against the wooden boards. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. His brown eyes scanned my face, stripping away the tough front I tried to maintain.

"Feeling bad for a guy who was balls-deep in your best friend?" Davies tilted his head, a dark smirk playing on his lips. "That is crazy work, Maya."

Heat flared in my cheeks. The brutal image flashed in my brain again. Kierra’s tangled hair. Nathan’s choked moans. The stench of sweat and betrayal. My stomach churned.

"Your reaction is natural," Davies continued, his tone softening a fraction. "You cared. He didn't. Your brain is just catching up to the fact that your so-called dream guy was a fraud. You need to get over it. Fast. He lost you the second he unzipped his pants for her."

He was right. Nathan did not deserve my pity. He deserved nothing.

"Besides," Davies took a step closer, invading my personal space again. The scent of wintergreen and expensive musk wrapped around me. "You did not seem too worried about him a minute ago. Not when your tongue was halfway down my throat."

My jaw dropped. A sharp gasp tore from my lungs. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." His smirk widened into a full-blown, cocky grin. "You kissed me like rent was due, sweetheart. I think you liked it."

"You are delusional," a scoff left my mouth, though my heart hammered against my ribs. "That was just for the show. To prove a point."

"Sure it was." He pushed off the boards and gestured toward the locker room hallway. "Walk with me before Coach catches us standing around. We need to go over the ground rules anyway."

Following him felt dangerous, but standing alone in the arena felt worse. We ducked into the empty equipment room. The space was small, smelling of fresh tape and polished rubber. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

"Speaking of the contract," words rushed out of my mouth before I could overthink them. "I found some loopholes. Things we need to iron out if this fake dating thing is going to work."

Davies hopped onto a stack of wooden crates, dangling his long legs. "Let's hear them."

"First, the exit clause." Crossing my arms, a defensive wall went up. "The paper says we terminate the agreement when your reputation clears. That is too vague. What defines a clear reputation? We need a concrete timeline. Three months. Max."

"Three months is fair," he agreed without hesitation. "What else?"

"Media boundaries." My fingers tapped nervously against my elbow. "No intrusive dorm visits. No posting pictures of me looking like a mess. And no forcing me into wild parties every weekend. I have classes. My mum is sick. I do not have time to play the party girl."

Davies watched me with intense focus. The playful arrogance vanished, replaced by something sharp and understanding. "Done. You keep your study time. I handle the PR. We show up to a few strategic events, hold hands, look pretty for the cameras, and go home. Anything else?"

"Yes. The physical stuff." A hot flush crept up my neck. "What just happened out there? We need limits."

He let out a low, rumbling laugh. "Limits? Maya, the whole point of this is to make it look real. If we act like awkward middle schoolers holding hands, nobody will buy it. You better get used to my mouth, because we will be doing that a lot."

"In your dreams!" Rolling my eyes, a surge of fake confidence pushed me forward. "You are not even that cute. Honestly? You are mid. A solid six on a good day. Do not flatter yourself."

Davies leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "A solid six? Is that why your face is red right now? Is that why you were whimpering my name on the ice?"

"Stop making things up!"

"Cap," he shot back, his gaze dropping to my lips. "You wanted it. You are acting like a saint, but you are just scared you might actually enjoy kissing a solid six."

"I am not scared of anything."

"Are you shy?" he taunted, his voice dropping an octave.

"No."

Davies slid off the crates. He landed on his feet with a soft thud. The small room suddenly felt microscopic. He stalked toward me, closing the distance until my back hit the cool metal of the storage lockers.

"Prove it." His whisper brushed against my ear, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.

Challenge accepted.

Grabbing the collar of his jersey, a fierce pull brought his face down to mine. Our lips crashed together. This time, there was no audience. No cameras. No Nathan. Just pure heat.

His mouth opened under mine, greedy and demanding. A ragged breath escaped him. His hands shot to my waist, hoisting me up. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. He slammed me back against the lockers. The metal rattled loud, but neither of us cared.

The kiss turned blistering. My hands tangled in his thick hair, pulling hard. He bit my lower lip, coaxing my mouth open wider. The taste of him was intoxicating. All thoughts of contracts and sick mothers evaporated.

His large hands slid under the hem of my babydoll dress. Rough palms met bare skin. A gasp shattered in the back of my throat. He traced the curve of my hip, his touch setting my nerves on fire.

He tugged at the zipper on the back of my dress. The fabric loosened. Cool air hit my shoulders, but his burning skin chased the chill away. I did not want him to stop. Every fiber of my being craved more. Pushing his jersey up, my fingers traced the hard, sculpted ridges of his abdomen.

And that's when I felt the bulge in his pants. 

Holy fuck, he was huge.

Shock widened my eyes. And it was so hard, fully rigid. The realization sent a rush of wet heat pooling between my thighs and had my pulse hammering a frantic rhythm. 

But just then, the door swung open.