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Dax had no idea what Lucy was talking about.

He wasn’t cold. On the contrary—the heat that was making his blood boil was unlike anything he had felt in the last five years of his life.

There was the anger, the hot anger that had been consuming him since she told Brandy she was his wife, compounded by the fact that she had managed to install a tracking app on his phone without his knowledge.

And then there was the desire.

The burning, burning desire that he wanted to ignore, but couldn’t because it was fueled by the sensation of her soft thighs under his large hand, holding her tight.

And before that: Why the hell couldn’t she stop shifting around on his lap? Why did she have to rub against him like she was a dog and he a leg? Why did she nestle her head under his chin so that he had no choice but to breathe in the smell of lemons and Lucy if he didn’t want to die a horrible death by suffocation?

Did she know anything at all about the male body? Didn’t she realize that she had aroused all his nerve endings and that he had been forced to use all his control to keep from getting hard?

“I’m cold, Dax,” Lucy said, annoyed, pounding on his back with her fist.

“You should have thought about that earlier,” he replied with hostility, pulling her forward by her legs so he could lower her to the ground.

She squeaked in surprise at the sudden movement, clinging to his shoulders as she slid down his body.

Excruciatingly slowly. Inch by inch, fabric rubbing fabric, body against body, soft against hard.

His throat became tight, his abdomen heavy, and as soon as she was on the ground, he stepped back. He had wanted to punish her by dragging her out of the bar, not himself. But he was starting to get the feeling that he had just needed to get outside to cool down a bit.

Fuck, he shouldn’t care how she felt on his lap, how soft her skin was, or how perfectly her breasts nestled against his upper body.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds to pull himself together. He was angry, not turned on!

When he opened his eyes again, Lucy was glaring up at him. Her brown eyes flashed in the darkness and her lips were red and slightly swollen, probably from being gnawed in frustration.

His mouth went dry.

Okay, maybe he was angry and turned on. But only because he had been fully expecting to have sex tonight. It wasn’t this woman, it was the situation!

“You know that you acted like a Neanderthal, right?” she asked sweetly, wrapping her arms around her body and looking past him toward the door of the Snow Hut. She was probably wondering what the chances were that Dax would let her go back into the bar to get her jacket.

Well, it was minus ten percent, so she didn’t even need to bother.

“Yes, you’re right,” he replied tonelessly. “So even though you’re the one who just announced to thirty people that I was a sex addict, I was the one misbehaving!”

“Well, maybe it’s the truth,” she said innocently, lifting one shoulder. “I mean, consider the number of women who have occupied your bed and draw your own conclusions.”

“Oh, really?” he asked roughly, although he tried to remain calm because he knew it upset her more when he stayed calm than when he lost it.

Nervously, she shifted from one foot to the other.

Yep. He knew her much better than either he or she would have liked.

“Fine,” she whispered brusquely. “I admit I might have crossed the line.”

He laughed dryly and ran a hand through his hair. “Might have? More like did! You’re supposed to save my image, not trample it!”

“Oh, please!” She waved it off. “Nobody in there knew you. Otherwise, some of them would have hijacked you as soon as you went in. Besides, I said your name was Steven, didn’t I?”

“Oh yes, Steven, the devoted father of Rex and Reilly,” he quoted, grinding his teeth. “You know I don’t normally have a problem with being an asshole. But today, you made me one!”

“What choice did I have?” she exclaimed, annoyed. “You would have taken Brandy with you to the hotel, you would have been photographed, and the press would have portrayed it as a frustration fuck!”

Yes, and that’s exactly what it would have been.

Shit, maybe he was an asshole. But at least not the biggest one in the stadium tonight.

“There were a hundred ways you could have gotten rid of Brandy,” he snapped. “A hundred that wouldn’t have embarrassed me. But you enjoyed it, didn’t you? Making me look like a dick? Because I managed to make you look like one so many times. So you thought, hey, I’m angry, I’ll exact my revenge.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked Lucy directly in the eyes.

She did not reply. She didn’t have to. Her silence and the guilty look in her eyes said more than enough.

They stared at each other in silence for several endless moments. There was nothing but air and heat between them.

Finally, Lucy murmured, her voice trembling, “It’s all irrelevant. You broke the agreement and I stopped you. The only woman you’ll be going home with tonight is me.”

Dax paused. He savored the sound of those words. Images flashed through his mind. He knew exactly what he would do to Lucy if she actually came home with him tonight. He knew exactly how he would torment her until she needed release more than her next breath, how he would tease with her his tongue until her eyes glazed over. How, after all her diligence, he would get her to beg him to take what he wanted—to finally forget all the rules she had ever imposed on him.

She wouldn’t be cold anymore. He wouldn’t be so angry anymore.

He lifted the corners of his mouth in a leisurely smile.

It would never come to that. He was turned on, but he had yet to give in to the pull. Lucy was the last woman in this world he should be lusting after. Above all, she didn’t need to know that he was.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Interesting. And the evening takes a surprising turn.”

She obviously realized she’d said something wrong. He could see her swallow before nervously stroking her ponytail and stammering, “I didn’t mean…you…you know what I meant!”

“Do I?” he whispered, taking a step toward her. Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, he let his eyes slide to her reddened lips, down her body, and back to her face. He caressed her with his eyes like he would have with his hands. Because she should imagine it, every detail, until she was as hot as he was. “I’m sorry, but I seem to be a bit off today,” he continued softly. “This whole evening is a riddle. But what you just said… Well, that sounded like a promise to me.”

He took another step forward so that her breasts brushed his shirt and he had to lower his chin to continue looking at her face. But Lucy didn’t back away. Of course she didn’t back away—her pride wouldn’t allow it.

That was a mistake. A huge mistake, because if she was allowed to provoke him, then the same applied in reverse. And she shouldn’t have started a game that he was so much better at.

“Ah, now I understand,” he murmured gruffly. “You don’t care about my reputation. You’re not interested in revenge. You are jealous. You wanted to be in Brandy’s place. That’s why you acted like a crazy person.”

“I didn’t…” But she didn’t finish her sentence.

Because he leaned slightly forward, slid his fingers to the hem of her skirt, and let the tips slide over where the material met her thighs.

He heard her frantic breath, saw her pupils dilate and her lips part slightly.

And just like that, he was no longer the only one turned on. He was simply the only one willing to admit it, because Lucy James would never willingly admit that he had power over her. No matter how primitive that power.

“You didn’t what?” he asked, leaning down to her. Casually, he stroked her temple with his scratchy chin, slid his fingers to the inside of her thighs, and drew tight circles with them. “Act like a maniac? Maybe you should look that word up in the dictionary again.”

He knew he was heading into dangerous territory, but he didn’t care. She had to understand that it wasn’t her who had the power, but him—only him.

He let his other hand wander. He touched Lucy’s neck and ran his thumb over her rapid pulse.

The ends of her hair tickled his skin. Lucy opened her lips slightly so that he could feel her warm breath on his cheek. Her black pupils almost consumed her eyes…

And then she shuddered. It was a breathless, shaky shudder that made her breasts brush against his torso, and a blush rose to her cheeks as she licked her lips.

He groaned internally at the sight. His cock was so damn hard that his jeans had become uncomfortable. His breathing grew shallower as his eyes rested on her lips. He couldn’t tear himself away from the sight.

Fuck, he wanted her.

He had wanted to push her to the limits, not himself.

Now, however, he no longer knew what his plan had been, just as he didn’t know what he was angrier about: Her, or his own body, which wanted Lucy with an intensity that scared him? Was he insane?

Abruptly, he let go of her and stepped backward—at the exact moment that Lucy put her hands on his chest and pushed him away.

“Stop it,” she snapped before straightening the hem of her skirt. Her fingers lingered a tad too long where his had just been. “You’re provoking me!”

He could see in her eyes how much she hated that he had succeeded, even if he didn’t feel like it was a success.

Rather, it felt like he had discovered his inner masochist. Really, all he had to do was think about today’s hockey game to torture himself. Turning himself on with no hope of release was just plain stupid.

“Isn’t that how we operate?” he said, his voice decidedly calm, his words composed and calculated. Maybe he shouldn’t have been a hockey player but an actor, because, man, he was putting on one hell of a performance!

“No. We… No,” Lucy replied firmly, shaking her head again and again as if she was trying to convince herself. “You know, I understand that you’re angry, but you’re not angry with me, you’re mad at yourself for playing like shit.”

He laughed—loudly. He hadn’t thought about the disastrous game once in the last half hour. “Oh, I’m a little angry with myself, but just now, I was mad at you!” he replied softly. He had come out from under the game’s shadow a bit. That might have been because there wasn’t quite as much blood available for his mind as there had been fifteen minutes ago.

“Okay,” she replied firmly. “It’s true I could have dealt with this differently, but…you’ve already made so many bad decisions tonight, I just couldn’t handle any more.”

That actually stopped him in his tracks. “Excuse me?” he asked, confused. He stuffed his hands in his pockets because there was a button on her blouse that had popped free from its hole and his fingers were itching to fix it—or to lose another one. “What bad decisions are you talking about?”

She lifted her chin. “Your decision to intentionally lose tonight.”

And then the old anger returned. Man, Lucy had a talent for rousing that in him. “What are you talking about?” he asked tersely.

“You heard me,” she replied frankly. “You lost your will to win, Dax. That is your greatest strength. Your will to win and be better. Today, however, you didn’t want to because it would have meant Jack would win, too. You can’t keep that attitude. You have to clear the air with him. Even if it’s just on the ice!”

His jaw clicked as he shifted it from side to side. “Didn’t you just say we’re not provoking each other anymore?” he asked hotly. “Because, shit, Lucy, if so, you’re making a liar of yourself right now.”

“It’s not provocation, it’s the truth,” she said matter-of-factly. “You know that as well as I do. Unless you start getting along with Jack and accepting that he’s part of the team now, you’ll continue to play badly.” She inhaled deeply. “Dax, I know you had a shitty childhood and Jack did something that justifies your anger, but…” She trailed off.

She realized again that she had said something wrong; she saw how Dax’s eyes turned icy before he broke apart and the lava poured out. Even she couldn’t help but notice how tightly he gritted his teeth and how his knuckles cracked as he balled up his hands tightly. “What did you just say?” he spat.

Lucy blinked and glanced away before looking back at him. Her head was now so red with heat a solar system of its own was definitely forming around it. “Nothing,” she murmured.

But that was just a lie. It wasn’t nothing.

“My childhood?” he repeated woodenly, and this time when he took a step toward her, it wasn’t to arouse her. He wanted to scare her because she had no right to know what she claimed to know. And this time she backed away, hitting the wall behind her. This time, she held her breath. He spoke again. “What do you know about my childhood?”

Nobody knew anything about it. Not Matt, not the rest of the team, not even the women he slept with. Because his childhood didn’t define him. His parents had no power to define who he was today. Sure, his personality consisted of all the anger and disappointment of that time, as well as a mosaic of love for his sister, the good times with Jack, the bad times without Jack, hockey, and hard-fought moments of happiness. But the knowledge of it belonged to him. His past was his!

Hadn’t he made that unmistakably clear to her?

Was she really looking at him as if she could understand what his problem was? As if it would be easy to forgive Jack if he just made a little effort?

Fuck no.

Lucy had no right to know anything about his past. Or even just think she knew something. She had no idea.

“I don’t know anything about your childhood, Dax,” she said, and he hated how soft her voice was. How big her eyes were. How gentle her touch was as she carefully placed her fingers on his arm.

“You seem to know something,” he snapped. “About my childhood and about me and Jack. About whether or not he deserves my anger!”

She took a deep breath and nodded shortly. “He told me, okay? That your childhood was terrible and that he deserved the anger. That’s it.”

No, that wasn’t it. It was too much.

“How nice of him,” Dax snapped. “How nice that he decided what you should know and what you shouldn’t. What did he say? Did he tell you my father was addicted to gambling and that we regularly had to drag him home from the casino in the middle of the night? Jack seventeen, me fourteen? Did he tell you that our mother was the most loving and kind person, but did nothing but work her tail off and then felt the need to introduce one idiotic rule after another at home just to feel like she was teaching us something? Neglecting the one thing she should have done, leave her damn husband? Did he perhaps tell you that she was still the sweetest, kindest person…yet he didn’t even feel the need to come to her funeral?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. I…” She swallowed and took a shaky breath. “Dax, I didn’t know that…”

He placed both hands on the wall on either side of her head and she immediately fell silent. “That’s exactly how it is. You didn’t know, you don’t know. Now listen carefully to me, Lucy,” he whispered, his voice threateningly soft, his head so close to hers their noses almost touched. “It doesn’t matter what Jack told you, what he’s going to tell you, or what you think you believe. You know nothing about me. Nothing about Jack. Nothing about our relationship. And you’ve gone too damn far. Questioning Jack. Installing a tracker on my phone. The next time you pull shit like that, you’ll regret it.”

She swallowed again and took a shaky breath. “Dax, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t question him,” she said, the words tumbling awkwardly from her lips. “I didn’t know any of that. I didn’t want to go behind your back…”

“And yet you did,” he cut her off, pushing off the wall, putting distance between them that he desperately needed in order to think more clearly. He needed to avoid looking into her big eyes and feeling like an asshole for yelling at her. “You know everyone talks about me behind my back,” he remarked, laughing mirthlessly. “The whole fucking country, the coaches, the team—and I thought you were the only one brave enough to tell me to my face what you think and what bothers you. But apparently, I was wrong. You’re no better than the others.”

He could see that the blow hit her. He knew it by the way she lowered her arms, the way she blinked several times, opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

He didn’t want to hear what she had to say, didn’t want to know if she was going to apologize or call him an asshole, so he didn’t give her the chance.

“Now go get your damn jacket,” he muttered. “We’re leaving.”

It was a miracle that Lucy actually did what he told her—a miracle he didn’t know if he liked.

She turned her back on him, hurried into the bar. The door slammed shut with a thud.

His shoulders slumped and he pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes.

Shit.

He paced restlessly, sucking the cold air deep into his lungs and expelling it through his nose.

His heartbeat echoed in his ears, his hands shook, and his lips tingled. Nothing in his body, in his head, or in his life was still in its proper place. The whole day, the last hour…everything was a mess.

He wanted Lucy and, at the same time, never wanted to see her again. He wanted to scream at her and, at the same time, apologize for his harsh words. He wanted to punch Jack and then ask him what had happened. Why had he disappeared from one night to the next? Why hadn’t he come to the funeral? Why hadn’t he made contact for so long? He wanted to shake his sister and hug her at the same time. He wanted to thank her for not giving up on him yet, even though he had given her every reason to. He wanted to tell Lucy more, wanted her to understand why the topic was too much, why he reacted the way he did—and, at the same time, he wanted to retract his words. Every single one.

Because she hadn’t known. She’d known nothing about what he had just reproachfully thrown at her. He had seen it in her eyes, in her shocked expression. But now she knew.

He almost started laughing. It was ridiculous. Lucy had discovered more about him in a few weeks than his entire team had in six years. What’s more, he had practically told her of his own free will!

He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head back, and when he opened them again he had at least pulled himself together enough to wonder what the hell was keeping Lucy.

He stared at the entrance, tapped his fingers against his leg—and finally lost his patience. He pushed open the door to the Snow Hut with his fist and stood rooted in place.

Was she fucking serious?

Lucy stood at the bar, her jacket draped around her shoulders, her back turned to him. His coat, which he had completely forgotten about, was lying on the stool in front of her, but he was having a hard time concentrating on it since she was talking to a strange dude, a skinny guy with a man-bun and a weakness for denim. Even worse; a guy who looked at her like she was the strawberry in his fondue. Or a cookie in his hand. Or… Shit, he couldn’t think of a sensible comparison. His mind was in overdrive as a red haze veiled his eyes.

“You’re not a sex addict too, are you?” His voice wafted over to Dax as the slimeball grinned broadly. “Are you also off-limits? I think that would be a real shame.”

Lucy laughed. Laughed at the incredibly stupid joke from this slimy guy, who now, to make matters worse, touched the tip of her ponytail and ran his fingers down the back of her neck.

“No, I can flirt with whoever I want,” he heard her reply…and that was it.

What kind of fucking double standard was this? He wasn’t allowed to exchange harmless banter with a pretty blonde, but she was allowed to pick up a sleazy guy in a bar?

Fuck no. Definitely not.

His red-veiled vision intensified and before he knew what he was doing, his feet were moving. The wood creaked under his heavy footsteps. Lucy glanced up, turned, and opened her mouth, but he didn’t let her speak.

“Hello, darling,” he growled, grabbing her shoulders and lowering his mouth to hers.

He didn’t kiss her kindly or gently—because he felt neither kind nor gentle at that moment—but firmly, hard, without considering the consequences. One hand on the back of her neck to hold her head roughly back and the other on her back to bring her tightly against him. Soft on hard. Warm to cold.

Lucy jumped and gasped in surprise…and he didn’t give her the chance to close her lips again.

Because if he couldn’t get rid of his title of Asshole of the Day, he could at least live up to it, right?

He dipped his tongue inside before pushing her against the counter and forcing one leg between hers.

Just like he had wanted to do for days.

He deepened the kiss, ran his hand through her hair, and flicked his tongue against hers. Tasted Coke and Lucy and enjoyed every second as if it were his last on earth. Because Lucy began to return the kiss.

He just couldn’t forget that this was all he could have. More would never be possible. So he took as much as he could take—as much as he could bear. As much as Lucy gave him; as much as he could control.

He reached his limit faster than he would have liked. The heat grew unbearable, his throbbing cock too hard, and the chaos in his head too loud.

He was about to end the kiss, step back, and give Lucy her space again…when she suddenly placed her hands on his chest, dug her nails into the fabric, and opened her lips wider for him. She met him with her tongue as she let out the sweetest, softest sigh.

And he was lost. He had gone too far.

Because this time, it was he who had started a game that he should have known he couldn’t possibly win. His arm tightened around her, lifting her onto her toes as she stretched her upper body toward him, enveloping him with her scent and driving him crazy with her lips.

The area around her became an unrecognizable haze of people and furniture. Everything else was unimportant—where they were, who was watching, and what had happened earlier. Nothing seemed to have meaning anymore except this moment—and the wish that it would last forever.

“Okay, man, got it. She’s yours,” he heard an annoyed male voice off in the distance, pulling Dax out of the fog that enveloped him.

He pulled back abruptly and let go of Lucy so suddenly that she stumbled forward. He stared at her, saw her chest rising and falling erratically and heavily, her eyes wide, her lips swollen.

He could still taste her. Still smell her. Still feel her. And he was afraid he would never forget any of those three things.

He blinked, bringing the blurry shapes around her back into focus, and found himself back in the present.

Enough. He had lost control. He needed it back. Immediately.

He smiled slowly, forcing himself to look calm and unfazed again. Then, he leaned in, his lips inches from her ear. “And that’s how you convince those around you that someone is taken without humiliating them,” he whispered.

Lucy didn’t answer. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Look, sorry, okay?” her male acquaintance said, still standing next to them. “I thought you were just friends. I didn’t know you…” He raised his hands defensively. “Sorry, I didn’t realize…”

“Go away,” Dax interrupted him sharply, a warning before he lost his patience. It worked: The dude obeyed as quickly as he could short of jumping over the counter.

“Man… What are you on about?” Lucy blurted out weakly. She sounded like he felt. “You can’t…”

“No, you can’t,” he contradicted her quietly. “You don’t get to decide which women I can talk to and which I can’t. You can’t keep on doing this. You can’t look at me like you want to rip my clothes off and then talk to my brother behind my back.”

She laughed. It was a startled, absurd laugh. “ You look at me the same way, Dax! When we were just outside… you kissed me , you said…”

He raised his eyebrows mockingly. “You shouldn’t take everything so literally, Lucy. Don’t take it personally, but you would be the last woman on Earth I would want to take to bed.”

And then he turned on his heel before she could decipher his lie or peer too closely into his eyes.

“You’re a terrible kisser!” she called after him.

“Tell that to your poor tongue,” he said over his shoulder before disappearing into the cold.

He’d had enough of this day.