Chapter 4

Malik's PoV

Coach blew the whistle for line changes and I barely heard it. My skates carried me through the drill on muscle memory alone while the rest of me was still back in that locker room, still watching her mouth move around my name like she hadn't meant to let it slip. Warrington skated past close enough to clip my shoulder, said something about the party tonight, and I didn't even bother telling him to shut up. I just watched him go, thinking about how little he actually knew.

"You good, Cap?" Torres called out from the blue line, and I lifted a hand without looking over, because no —I wasn't good, I was something else entirely, something I hadn't let myself be in longer than I could remember. I'd built my whole life around not needing anything I couldn't control. And now there was a girl with bleach-stained gloves who'd looked at me like I was just a guy, not a name on a jersey, and I couldn't stop turning it over in my head like a puck I didn't know how to shoot.

The next evening at hockey practice, I couldn't shake that conversation from my head. The way Amara Voss chewed her bottom lip as I backed away proves my theory.

That girl wants me.

She's seen my ass.

It can't be denied that she also wants a piece of it under her boot.

A smug rush of instant satisfaction bloomed in my chest as I focused on the ice. The defenseman ended his sixth and final lap of punishment around the rink; his face grew pure red as he glared at me.

"Looking good, Cole," I said casually, though it was the last time he'd ever hear it from me.

"Screw this, Reyes." Xavier's face twisted as he paused before me. "Do you realize how humiliating this is?"

I kept a grin from showing. "Hmm, only day four of thirty, and you haven't learned your lesson, freshman. I bet you haven't apologized to the janitor either."

Xavier winced, brushing off the comment. "Why? She's a nobody."

Cole's pretty boy features churned my stomach. And you're a coward, I thought.

College sports were a huge step. Most guys wept over not making The Gladiators, but Cole didn't have to lift a finger. Coach filed his name at the top of the roster.

I'd tried to avoid the nepo kid, putting work first until he crossed a very dangerous line by touching Amara.

I snuck a glance at Xavier, then at Coach Ruiz scribbling something on his clipboard. I curled my fists, releasing a dark urge to punch Xavier.

Not worth a suspension.

Oblivious to how close he could be to getting a black eye this second, Xavier cleared his throat. "So Cap, are you coming to my party at the frat house later?"

"No."

"Geez, man, I thought you'd be way more fun." Xavier blew a breath, giving a teasing smirk. "Chicks are gonna be there if you want to get your hockey stick sucked."

I stared down his grinning face and skated away to rejoin the team without a word.

********

I was still at the rink long after practice; the boys had abandoned me, howling like horny wolves in anticipation for Cole's party.

A rapper's bass voice crackled through my earbuds as I guided a puck across the ice. My breathing rushed out in sharp bursts, matching the same pace of my skating.

Work hard. Play smart. That's all it took for me.

I wish I could afford to fool around like the guys, but Dad had expectations. Reyeses never slack off on ice.

Ever.

A certain dark-haired girl with a nose piercing burned into my mind. Damn her and those curves showing off under her uniform.

With a strike, the puck fired into the net. I pumped a fist into the stale, icy air, slowing down to catch my breath for a second.

My mouth twitched.

A while later, I stood under the water jet spray, letting the heat beat my shoulders; my muscles, raw and red, began to loosen up. The memory of her mouth took flight in my senses.

I walked out, patted my hair dry with a towel, and glanced at the clock. 1:55 AM. She'd be here in about five minutes.

After throwing on my Gladiators sweatshirt and jeans, I took a seat on the bench and scrolled through my phone until I was bored of every flashy photo on my feed.

Dozens of girls lined up at my DMs. Models, young and scarily older. But none of them were as intriguing as Amara.

Something dark glistened in those brown eyes. Maybe it was pressure like mine. Either way, I wanted to find out.

The door swung open, followed by the ceiling light flickering on. Amara dragged her cart inside, letting the door click locked before scowling at me.

"Oh my God, don't you ever sleep, Reyes?"

"Aw, you didn't scream tonight."

She performed her usual routine of taking out a brush, waving it at me like a magic wand. "You're getting a little predictable."

"Please, don't give me any ideas."

Amara groaned at the ceiling. "I can't keep working like this."

I lay back on the bench. "I'm not in your way."

She crossed her arms; her cheeks turned pink. "Your presence is really distracting ... "

"Hmm, do tell," I added, raising a brow.

She sighed again and went to work while I tried and failed to stop ogling her as she scrubbed the floors.

The room started filling up with the scent of ammonia and occasional glares from her direction.

Then, Amara made a muffled noise under her mask; I waved a hand for her to speak up.

Amara removed her mask. "I said stop staring at my butt."

I did what any sane guy would do at this moment. I approached her.

Amara rolled her eyes as I towered over her. "I'm bored of you acting like you don't want me," I said plainly.

She released a sharp breath, checking the room like there was a ghost among us, her eyes leveling back to mine.

"Excuse me?"

"Give me your number."

"Not happening."

I waited. That usually worked. I tried a different angle.

"Go out to lunch with me?"

"Don't even try, Reyes."

"Kiss me."

I directed my gaze to her soft pink mouth as it parted slightly. Amara swallowed, her throat working with a strain.

I might have read her wrong.

Instead, she raised the goggles over her hair and closed the space between us. In spite of the surprise, I welcomed her with an embrace, dropping my lips to hers and catching the shudder against my chest.

I sank us onto a bench, and Amara straddled me fluidly, chuckling low. Heat bloomed between her body and mine. I pushed a thumb to her lips; she gave it a little wet lick.

I offered a quick smile. "Yeah, look at you, hating me right now."

"Shut up," she replied, blushing.

I obeyed and sank my fingertips into her hips, and she grinded against me. Every movement stirred a force inside me, too hard to comprehend.

Upon deftly reaching for her button, her breath caught and she glanced at the locked door.

"Don't worry, nobody's coming," I assured.

A slight hesitation twinkled on her face, but then her mouth curved. "I don't want to think about how dumb this is. Just make me feel."

It shocked me a little. She was actually going to let me touch her.

Our ragged breaths mingled in the room. As soon as her coveralls came undone, I caught a peek of black lace against alabaster skin. I was rock hard already. Our clothes ended up in a pile.

Her skin was hot as I grazed a thumb down the length of her neck, making her eyes flutter shut.

"This has to be a dream, right?" Amara asked softly.

I laughed, shaking my head. She was beautiful. Glossy black hair. Doe-brown eyes. Perfect combo.

I deepened the kiss, running my hands over her smooth body until she made desperate sounds.

" Malik."

I groaned in delight. Hearing her say my name for the first time was so much better than music.

Standing up with her wrapped around my waist, I carried her across the room until we both ended up pressed against the lockers again. I smirked as I caught a flash of Cole's name plate above her shoulder.

"This is so unsanitary," she grumbled, already tangling her fingers in my hair as I dropped to my knees.

"Shh."

In a quick move, I spread her legs. I didn't care about the rules, just the heat of her skin, the way she made me forget the pressure to face the fans' expectations.

When I kissed her down there, she tasted like ruin. Amara gasped and bucked against me.

Faster.

When the clock hit 2:34 AM, Amara collapsed to the floor against my body. We sat together, panting hard while our musky scent wrapped around our skin.

"That was crazy ... " She rested her head on my shoulder, playfully poking my chest.

"I'm going to the NHL," I admitted, before I could stop myself.

Silence fell over us. My chest tightened when she didn't yell or scream like every other crazed girl on campus. I didn't even know if Amara watched hockey.

Amara blinked hard. "Oh. Wow, that's really ... something."

It was a low blow to the gut, and I couldn't get upset over it.

"Is your job 'something'?" I countered.

"I get it," she drawled, ruffling my damp hair. "You're so perfect, hockey boy."

"That's literally not true."

Amara looked straight ahead; a shadow settled over her face. "So, why are you telling me this?"

"Just being honest."

She snorted. "What are you, a boy scout?"

In a strange way, it was a huge relief that she wasn't starstruck by me. Then again, I'd never actually considered bringing a girl in the locker room before.

I stroked her hair. "Amara, I want to keep seeing you before I leave Michigan."

She opened her mouth to answer, her deep brown eyes searching mine before suddenly rolling into shock and panic.

Thud.

A heavy clank rattled the door, making both of us rush to our feet at lightning speed.

Air left my lungs. Was it Coach?

"Voss?" a voice barked from the other end. It was feminine and not one I'd heard before. "Open the damn door; I'm here for the inspection."

"Who's that?" I asked, reaching for my pants.

Amara clamped her palms over her ears, her entire body shaking like a leaf. "It's my boss," she hissed.