Page 15 of Power Play Daddies (Miami Icemen #1)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Daisy

I giggle, watching him from below, his body over mine, stretching me in ways that should be illegal. Mason pauses mid-thrust, his brows lifting.

“Something funny?” His voice is low. “’Cause if I wasn’t such a confident guy, I’d be offended.”

I bite my lip, trying to hold it in, but another giggle escapes.

“Is there something about my cock that’s making you laugh?” he asks, pressing deeper.

The breath whooshes out of me, and my nails dig into his shoulders. “God—no,” I manage. “It’s just… when I decided to cover the Miami Icemen, this wasn’t part of the plan.”

Mason snorts, then full-on laughs, his chest vibrating against mine. “Oh yeah? What were you interested in? Team spirit? The Gatorade cooler?”

“No,” I gasp between laughs. “Just—everything except this. But now…”

“Now, you can’t resist us,” he finishes, grinning like the cocky bastard he is.

I roll my eyes. “At this rate, I’ll need to start leaving my underwear at home.”

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, princess, you have no idea.”

I start to respond, but he cuts me off with a low, commanding, “Open your mouth.”

My breath catches, but I obey. He stuffs the soaked fabric of my bikini bottoms into my mouth, and my cheeks flush instantly. The taste of me, mixed with his dark stare, sets my whole body on fire.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval as he sinks into me, harder and deeper than before.

I whimper, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

“Yes,” he says, punctuating each thrust with the word. “Yes. Fucking yes.”

I lose all ability to think, my body completely his as he drives into me. He’s relentless, dragging me closer and closer to the edge.

His hand slides down, gripping my hip, pulling me tighter against him. The bikini bottoms muffle my cries, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t ease up, and when the wave crashes over me, I’m gone. My body locks up, and my vision goes white.

When I come down, he’s watching me, his face a mix of smug satisfaction and something else—something softer.

“Fuck, Daisy,” he says, pulling the bikini bottoms from my mouth and tossing them aside. “You’re so goddamn beautiful like this.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just nod, my chest still heaving.

He leans down, brushing his lips over mine in a surprisingly tender kiss. “Wish I could stay, but I’ve got practice.”

“Okay,” I whisper, nodding again.

He kisses me one more time before pulling back and reaching for his shorts.

As he gets dressed, the thought slips out before I can stop it. “Actually… can I walk you outside?”

His eyes flick to mine, and he smiles. “Yeah. Sure.”

I throw on a loose shirt and shorts, combing my fingers through my messy hair.

We step into the elevator together, and the silence is heavy. Not awkward, but charged. His hand brushes mine, and I glance up at him.

“You good?” he asks, his voice softer now.

I nod, but the way he’s looking at me—dark eyes, full of something I can’t name—it’s too much. I lean up, grabbing his shirt, and press my lips to his.

He responds immediately, his hands gripping my waist as he backs me into the corner of the elevator. The kiss is messy, frantic, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip, his tongue sliding against mine.

“Mason,” I gasp when he pulls away, his lips trailing down my neck.

“Yeah?” he murmurs against my skin.

“We’re in an elevator.”

“So?” he says, his hands sliding lower, squeezing my ass.

I bite back a moan, grabbing his wrist. “You’ve got practice, remember?”

He groans, pulling back just enough to look at me. “You’re really killin’ me here, princess.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. He steps back, running a hand through his hair, and grins. “Dinner tonight?”

I smile, my cheeks warm. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” he says, his grin widening.

We step out of the elevator, and I watch him walk toward his car, his broad shoulders and confident stride making my stomach flip.

Yeah. I’m in so much trouble.

I’m halfway back to the lobby when I stop dead in my tracks. Beau Callahan is standing right there.

He looks like he just stepped out of a fitness ad—tight gray joggers, a black T-shirt stretched over his chest, and sneakers that look brand new. His hair is a little messy, and those piercing blue eyes of his are locked on me like I’m the last person he expected to see.

“Beau,” I say, my voice cracking slightly.

He doesn’t move, just adjusts the strap of the gym bag slung over his shoulder. “That was Mason, wasn’t it?”

I nod, brushing my hair back awkwardly. “Yeah. Uh… what are you doing here?”

He laughs—a single, humorless sound. “Nice to see you too.” He starts to sidestep me like he’s just going to walk away.

“Wait,” I blurt, stepping in front of him. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

He looks down at me, tilting his head slightly. “I’ve got a cousin who lives in the building. Didn’t realize you live here too. Don’t worry, I’m not stalking you.”

His tone is sharp, but there’s something underneath it. Hurt, maybe? Or annoyance. It’s hard to tell.

“I didn’t think you were,” I say softly.

He shifts his weight, eyes narrowing slightly. “Good.”

The silence between us feels heavy, so I break it with the stupidest question. “Do you… hate me?”

His jaw tightens, and for a second, I think he’s just going to walk away. Instead, he takes a step closer, his eyes searching mine.

“You lied to me,” he says flatly.

“No, I didn’t.” I shake my head, meeting his gaze.

He moves even closer, and now I can smell him—leather and something sharp, like cedar. My stomach twists painfully.

“You fucked me,” he says, voice low, “knowing exactly who I was.”

“Yes.” I swallow hard. “But that wasn’t—it wasn’t like that. I had no idea my uncle would actually agree to me working on the piece for the team. It was never about sleeping with you for a story. I found out that morning—that is why I left. I just…I didn’t know, Beau.”

His brows lift slightly. “Your uncle?”

I nod. “Ace.”

His mouth opens slightly, then closes again. “You’re the coach’s niece.”

“Yeah,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

He drags a hand over the stubble on his cheek, exhaling slowly. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s complicated,” I say quickly, rushing to explain. “But I can’t be here if you think—if you think I used you like that. If you want to keep things professional, I’ll do it. I just need you to know the truth before you shut me out.”

He doesn’t say anything right away, just pulls out his phone and checks the screen. I wonder if he’s about to brush me off completely, but then he looks back up.

“Tell me about this piece,” he says.

The request takes me by surprise. “What?”

“This article you’re working on,” he says, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Tell me about it.”

I blink, trying to collect my thoughts. “Oh. Uh… yeah. So, of course you know now that I’m a sports journalist for the Miami Herald . The paper’s been going through some shifts—layoffs, restructuring, all that. My boss thinks an exclusive on the Miami Icemen could be a big deal.”

He listens, his expression unreadable, but something shifts in his eyes as I keep talking. “It’s not just about the stats or the game,” I explain. “It’s about the players, the culture, what makes this team different.”

His gaze softens slightly. “You really care about this, don’t you?”

I nod. “Yeah. I do.”

He nods back, almost imperceptibly. “Okay. At least I understand now.”

Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived because then he says, “About the thing in the locker room…”

I groan internally and point back toward where Mason’s car just drove off. “I know. He explained.”

Beau’s lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “Good. Good.”

There’s another beat of silence, and then he says, “It was nice seeing you, Daisy.”

“You too,” I reply, my voice a little shakier than I’d like.

He adjusts his bag again and steps around me. “I’ve gotta go. Can’t be late for practice.”

“Okay.” The word barely leaves my lips before I add, “Wait.”

He stops but doesn’t turn around right away.

“Why do you hate journalists?” I ask, my voice more hesitant this time.

He stiffens slightly, and I can see his jaw clench.

“Off the record,” I add quickly.

He turns back, studying me with those intense blue eyes. For a moment, I think he’s going to brush me off again. But then he nods.

“Find me after practice,” he says. “I’ll tell you. On the record.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

He nods once, then turns and walks away. I watch him go, his broad shoulders disappearing around the corner, and I’m left standing there like an idiot.

How is it possible that I’ve slept with Mason and Kieran in the last twenty-four hours and still get actual fucking flutters for a third guy?

“What’s in the Miami water?” I mutter to myself, heading back inside.