Page 44 of Cracked Ice (The F*cked Up Players #1)

“I’ve been on a strict calorie deficient diet since I was in the eighth grade,” she shrugs. “It’s been years since I’ve eaten a fry.”

I suck the salt off of my fingers, slowly and salaciously, making sure to rub it in her face what she’s obviously missing.

Why anyone would ever deny themselves pleasure is beyond me.

I chuckle when I swear I see drool forming in the corner of her lips. Whether that’s over the fries or my sucking abilities, I can’t quite tell.

“Well then prepare your palate to have the best fries you’ve ever tasted.”

I push the basket closer to her with my free hand.

“I-I can’t.”

She shakes her head, pushing them away.

I drop the fries poised at my lips.

“What did you say?”

She twiddles her thumbs nervously.

“I said . . . I shouldn’t.”

I glare at her. “No, you said you can’t . Why ?”

“Because, I’ll get fat.”

She doesn’t even blink when she says it, but I do. Multiple fucking times while I try to wrap my head around what the fuck she just said. I’m sure it’s my face now that’s taken on a horrified expression.

“What?” I grit through clenched teeth.

“I’m not allowed to have fries,” she repeats, oblivious as to why that pisses me off to hear.

What’s worse? Is how confused she looks.

Who. The. Fuck convinced her a few fries would make her fat? I’ve seen every divine piece of this royal and she’s perfection . There’s not an ounce of fat on her. She’s strapped in muscle, especially her weirdly attractive calves.

Her commitment to figure skating is unquestionable and fucking french fries would never diminish her beauty in my eyes. She could eat fries every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and I’d still be obsessed with her. This blasphemy against fried potatoey goodness will not stand.

“Sydney.” My voice is strained as I attempt to reign in my temper. “Eat the fries.”

She shakes her head, her lips rolled inward in defiance like a goddamn baby who doesn’t want to eat her vegetables.

“Eat, Princess,” I coo, attempting to take the nice approach.

“You don’t understand. I can’t .”

“Eat the goddamn fries, Sydney. Or so help me, I’ll sit you on my cock and force feed them to you while I use your cum as dipping sauce.”

Her eyes blaze, pupils blown wide, as she debates my threat.

“I— You can’t— Jesus, you’re—”

I grin. “Come on,” I croon. “You know you want to. They’re magically delicious.”

She laughs despite herself.

“That’s Lucky Charms,” she chuckles.

“Potato. Cereal. It’s all the same thing. Eat,” I say.

I point toward the fries again. She stares at the basket and then the small silver cup of ketchup, lingering before shifting to me.

Oh, she’s definitely thinking about the dipping sauce comment.

I stare back, smirking.

“We’re still on a date, crazy pants. Sustenance first,” I tease, nodding toward the fries one last time because at this rate I’m going to eat them all.

“Fine,” she relents, reaching for the fries at the same time I do. My fingers brush against hers. We both stall, but then she’s pulling away sharply as though she’s stealing the fries instead of sharing them.

I shake my head, allowing her the win.

She slides one in her mouth slowly, savoring the greasy potato stick, her eyes rolling like she’s about to orgasm.

Well, shit, I guess I better get the dipping sauce ready .

As if knowing where my thoughts have landed, she pulls another fry from the basket, dips it into the ketchup, then licks the tip before chomping down on the end.

Fuck. If that’s how she looks eating fries, I can’t imagine what she’d look like when I’m balls-deep inside her.

I clear my throat, hopeful to get back to the topic at hand.

“So, if Brad’s just a family friend, why’d you look so upset?” I ask.

She stuffs a few more fries into her mouth, buying time.

“You could tell me, or you could show me,” I push, peering down at her phone. I’m fast enough to take it from her, but I give her time to comply.

Sydney swallows her mouthful roughly, the food not well masticated enough to warrant the premature gulp. Her tiny fist pounds on her chest as she reaches for the water the waitress brought by, slurping it down like the words can be found at the bottom of the cup.

“You know I don’t actually owe you an explanation, right?” Sydney retorts, her attitude distracting me from my murderous rage.

“You’re getting pretty defensive over a family friend ,” I spit back.

“These are simple questions, Sydney. Not too long ago, you were begging for my cock. Said I could fuck you raw, if memory serves. I’d think you would owe me some sort of explanation.

” I tilt my head at her gob smacked expression.

“Aww, don’t seem so shocked. Pretty sure I still have your cum on my leg after I . . .”

“Okay, okay, fine. Just . . .”—she looks around the semi-crowded diner—“lower your voice,” she hisses.

“Now Sydney, you wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with me, would you?”

She stills. “No, of course not. I . . .I just don’t need . . .”

“Everyone knowing what a greedy little slut you are for my dick?” Her cheeks flame and I smirk. She’s so freaking adorable.

Her eyes roll, unamused by my antics.

“Could you please try to have more couth?”

“Well there’s a word you don’t hear everyday.”

She scoffs, “Why? Is it beyond your comprehension?”

My eyes shoot to hers and she quickly corrects herself. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

I sigh. It’s one thing to tease but Sydney only knows how to go for the jugular. That’s the second time tonight she’s tried to put me down, implying I’m stupid.

“Look I’m a fairly nice guy, Princess. I’m a hockey player so trust me when I say I can take the chirping.

But I’m a bit sensitive tonight. So…the next time you’re mean to me.

I will show you just how much couth I have when I force you to crawl on your knees and beg for my forgiveness in front of this whole goddamn restaurant.

And, believe me, you will beg prettily and enthusiastically. ” Her mouth gapes and I chuckle.

“Now, let’s try this again,” I say. “What’s the deal with you and Brad ?”

“He . . . wants to come and visit. He’s been wanting to visit for a while. But I don’t want him to come,” she reiterates.

“Why’s that?”

She looks at me with that same twinkle in her eyes that tells me exactly what I already know but I want to hear her say it.

“I’d rather be here . . . with you.”

I nod my head, a smile growing with her confession.

“Now was that so hard?”

She looks back down at her plate of fries, but I see her slight grin.

“It was torture,” she teases.

I smile wider.

“Oh, Princess, you don’t know the meaning of the word.”