Page 4 of Power Play Daddies (Miami Icemen #1)

CHAPTER THREE

Daisy

I blink awake, my head pounding faintly, body sore in ways that bring flashes of the last few hours to the forefront of my mind.

My throat’s dry, my mouth tastes like regret and tequila, and the sofa beneath me smells faintly of leather and cologne.

I shift, and the movement sends a dull ache between my thighs. God, my body feels like it’s been through the wringer, but in the best way possible.

A low groan rumbles beside me, and I turn my head to find Beau sprawled out next to me, his arm slung over his face, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

“Late,” he mutters, sounding like he’s just woken up, too.

I push up, wincing. “Where’s the bathroom?” My voice is raspy, like I’ve been smoking a pack a day.

His eyes crack open, dark and lazy. “C’mere,” he says, sitting up and stretching like a damn lion, muscles flexing everywhere. Before I can argue, he’s got me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What the hell!” I slap his back, but he just chuckles, his hand landing on my ass with a light smack that makes me squeak.

“Relax. You’re fine,” he says, carrying me upstairs through what looks like the hallway of a freaking magazine spread. Everything is sleek, modern, expensive. I knew he had money, but damn.

He stops in front of a door and sets me down gently, hands lingering on my hips for a second before stepping back. “Bathroom,” he says, smirking like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I slam the door in his face, locking it for good measure, though I doubt it’d keep him out if he wanted in. The bathroom is bigger than my entire apartment. I splash water on my face and glance at my reflection, taking in the messy hair, the smudged makeup, the faint bite mark on my collarbone.

God, what am I doing?

When I come back out, I find him leaning against another door, shirtless, his hair messy in a way that makes him look unfairly good. His boxers are low on his hips, and I can’t stop staring.

“I should get going,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that I’m wearing nothing but panties and his oversized T-shirt.

He tilts his head, smirking like I’ve said something funny. “Or…” he drawls, taking a slow step toward me, “you could stay. We fuck some more tonight, and then tomorrow morning, I’ll fuck you again before you leave.”

The bluntness of his words sends a bolt of heat straight through me. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grins. “I’m honest. It’s still the middle of the night. And judging by the way you’re looking at me right now, you’re tempted.”

I hate that he’s right. I hate even more that my body reacts to his words, my belly tightening, my thighs pressing together.

“This is such a bad idea.”

He steps closer, his hands finding my hips, tugging me gently until I’m pressed against him. “Yeah? Doesn’t mean it’s not a good time.”

I glare at him half-heartedly. “You’re trouble.”

“You like trouble,” he says, his lips brushing my jaw.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I snap, but it’s weak, and he knows it.

“Come on, Daisy.” His voice is low, coaxing. “This is good, right?”

I nod because it’s true. It is good. Too good.

His fingers slide under the hem of the shirt I’m wearing, skimming my skin. “Say it.”

I swallow hard. “It’s good.”

He pulls the shirt off me. I smile.

He grins like he’s won, and before I can say anything else, he’s pulling me toward his bedroom. I don’t resist, not when his lips find mine again, not when his hands are already tugging my panties down.

“Beau,” I whisper as he pushes me onto the mattress, his body settling over mine.

“Yeah?” His hand slides between my thighs, teasing, and my hips jerk against his touch.

“Condom,” I manage, my voice breathless.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pulling away just long enough to grab one from the nightstand.

I take the moment to admire him, the way his muscles shift as he moves, the sharp cut of his jaw, the ink on his skin. He’s not just hot—he’s a goddamn masterpiece.

When he turns back, I’m lying there like an idiot. He catches me staring and smirks, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Like what you see?”

I roll my eyes, but my cheeks burn. “Just get over here.”

He laughs, low and deep, and climbs back onto the bed, his hands sliding up my thighs as he positions himself between them.

He lifts one of my legs, resting it on his shoulder, and the stretch makes me gasp.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now, like he actually cares.

I nod. “Yeah. Just… go slow.”

He does, sliding into me inch by inch, and it’s so much. Too much, but I don’t want him to stop.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so tight.”

“Beau,” I gasp, gripping the sheets as he starts to move, slow and steady.

“You’re so fucking good,” he mutters, his hands gripping my hips as he thrusts deeper.

It’s overwhelming, the way he fills me, the way he moves like he owns my body. And maybe, for tonight, he does.

As he picks up the pace, I lose track of everything but him—the way he growls my name, the way his hands feel on my skin, the way he’s wrecking me in the best possible way.

“Daisy,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re mine tonight.”

I don’t argue. I can’t. Because he’s right.

For the next few hours, I’m his, and I let him take everything.

The blaring alarm slices through my sleep, and for a second, I don’t know where the hell I am. My eyes dart around, landing on the massive windows letting in the faintest glow of early dawn.

Oh. Right. Beau’s place.

I turn my head, and there he is, sprawled out on his stomach, completely dead to the world. One arm’s slung over the side of the bed, and the sheet’s barely covering his very fine, very naked ass.

A satisfied grin spreads across my face. Yeah, well, four rounds of back-to-back orgasms will do that to a man.

I grope for my phone to shut the damn alarm off. My fingers land on it, and as soon as the screen lights up, my grin freezes. A text from Uncle Ace.

Sorry for the late reply. Just heard your voicemail. Let’s meet at noon to discuss.

My stomach twists so hard I almost drop the phone.

“Shit,” I whisper, sitting up. My head’s pounding faintly from all the tequila, but that’s not the problem. The problem is I’m in bed with the Miami Icemen’s star forward.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I glance back at Beau. Still out cold.

I doubt a tornado could wake him right now. His chest rises and falls steadily, and his hair’s a mess from my hands. My eyes linger longer than they should because God, he looks so good even while unconscious.

But that’s not the point.

I slide out of bed carefully, biting my lip to keep from making a sound. My clothes are crumpled on the floor in the living room, and my shoes are near the door. I spot my bra hanging off a lamp, and I grab it on my way toward the kitchen. But my panties? No clue.

Shit. Not important.

I’m still wearing his T-shirt, and I don’t have time to change. I grab my stuff and slip into my slacks and heels. Quietly, I order an Uber.

The clock on the wall says 5:20 a.m. Perfect. Plenty of time to get out of here before I do something stupid like crawl back into bed with him.

“Daisy,” I mutter to myself. “What the fuck have you done?”

This was supposed to be a one-night thing. Fun, casual, forgettable. Except it’s not. Now I want to see him again, even if I know damn well I shouldn’t.

The Uber pulls up and I bolt out the door, practically tripping over my own feet as I climb into the back seat.

“Rough night?” the driver asks with a knowing smirk.

I force a smile. “Something like that.”

He chuckles and turns up the radio, thankfully leaving me alone.

My head’s a mess the whole ride home. The Icemen are a massive deal, and this story could put my career back on track. Could I have already screwed it up by screwing Blaze?

When I finally walk into my apartment, Slim is curled up on my pillow. He cracks one eye open, blinks at me, and promptly goes back to sleep.

“Glad one of us is having a stress-free morning,” I mutter, kicking off my shoes and tossing my stuff onto the chair.

I text Uncle Ace back.

Noon works. See you then.

I crawl into bed in nothing but Beau’s T-shirt and press my face against Slim’s soft fur. My body’s sore in places I didn’t even know could be sore, but it’s the good kind. Still, my brain won’t shut up.

How did the best night of my life turn into this giant clusterfuck?

Slim purrs, a small comfort in the chaos.

“Just sleep,” I whisper to myself. “Figure it out later.”

But even as I drift off, Beau’s stupidly handsome face and the heat of his hands on my skin are all I can think about.