“Vince Tanev, scared of flying?” She tilted her head a bit. “That’s something I didn’t expect.”
“Oh, I’m full of surprises.”
“I’m sure,” she said with a slight roll of her eyes.
I took the opportunity then to appraise her outfit change. I missed that tiny scrap of white fabric she’d been wearing as a top earlier, especially since I’d had the sinfully delicious view of her hard nipples earlier that morning. My cock twitched a little at the memory of those peaks, of how goosebumps had trailed over her arms when I’d let my eyes rake over her and discovered that fun little surprise like a toy in a cereal box.
Now, she had on light-colored jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt. Her hair was held back by a bright blue bandana tied in a knot at the front, and silver hoops hung from her ears. And even though she was showing less skin now than she did this morning, she was somehow even more alluring.
It should have been illegal for that woman with an ass like hers to wear jeans that tight.
I didn’t hurry my perusal of her, and when I finally dragged my eyes back up to meet hers, she gave me a look that said well, are you going to move or…？
I stepped a bit to the side, just marginally, like I didn’t have the space to move much farther. My smile climbed on my lips in a dare as Maven assessed the tiny sliver of space between me and the seat that I’d left her to slip through.
Her jaw tightened as she took the challenge, and at first, I thought she was going to ram through me and bulldoze her way into the row. But at the last moment, her pace changed, and she held her chin high as she turned toward the seats, her hands bracing on the back of them to steady her while she squeezed by me.
That little turn meant her ass was practically in my lap as she did.
“Excuse me,” she purred, smirking back at me as she slowly dragged that perfect, round, apple-shaped ass across my groin. She did so achingly slow, and my nostrils flared at the contact, hand clamping on the seat behind me to keep from reaching out and grabbing her to keep her against me longer.
When she slid by, she watched me out of the corner of her eye before she carefully took the window seat and crossed her legs.
I finally exhaled, glancing at Carter and Jaxson who were watching me with shit-eating grins now. Even Will arched a brow at me before turning to look out the window again.
I cracked my neck, unfastening the button on my suit jacket before I slid into the seat next to her.
“And don’t call me peach, either,” she said.
“What should I call you, then,” I asked. “Girl of my dreams? Siren of the seas?”
“How about Maven, since that’s her name,” Daddy P cut in, blinking slowly at me like I was a teenage boy who had climbed too high on his nerves. To be fair, I was acting a bit like one, but I couldn’t help it.
I liked to push Maven’s buttons.
I wondered what would happen if I pushed all the right ones.
Maven tongued her cheek at me with that little input from our goaltender, and then she turned to him, extending her hand. “Thank you. I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Maven King.”
“Will Perry,” he said gruffly with a firm, short shake.
“We call him Daddy P, though,” Jaxson cut in.
Maven’s brows tugged inward. “Why?”
“Well, because he’s a daddy — like actually a dad. He has the cutest kid you’ll ever meet.”
“But also because he’s iron-fisted and hands out punishment like a dad,” Carter explained. “And he treats the puck like a boy trying to take his daughter on a date and his daughter is the net. No access granted.”
Maven’s cheeks tinged a bit pink at that, and she smiled at Will. “Daddy P. I like that.”
“We all have nicknames,” Carter said. “It’s kind of annoying, honestly, but inescapable, nonetheless.”
“What do you mean?” Maven asked.
“Well, it just sort of happens in hockey. Sometimes it’s a play on your last name, or sometimes you do one stupid thing and it becomes your identifier for years. Sometimes it’s a name earned from performance, like Daddy P is part for his last name, Perry, but also part P for Pickles.”
“Pickles?” Maven’s nose scrunched up.
“Yeah. Because he’s cool as a cucumber on the ice,” Jaxson said.
Maven laughed, and the sound was so airy and light that I wanted to bottle it up. She seemed to be relaxing the more the guys talked to her, and the bite she loved to nip me with was slowly receding, her teeth no longer bared.
“So, he’s Daddy P,” she said, pointing at Will before her finger moved to Jaxson. “And you are?”
“Brittzy,” he said. “My last name is Brittain. And then Carter here is Fabio.”
“Because of the flow,” Carter said, sliding his hand back through his medium-length brown hair before that same hand ran over his scruff. That made Will snort again and pin him with a glare.
No one had better hair than Daddy P.
“Because his last name is Fabri,” Jaxson interjected. “And because his game with the ladies is absolute shit, so calling him Fabio is ironic.”
That earned Jaxson a wet willy from across the aisle.
“And what about you?” Maven asked, finally turning to look at me. When she did, her honey golden eyes danced a little. “What’s your nickname?”
“Mr. King.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because when we get married, I already know you’re too independent to take my last name, so I guess I’ll have to take yours.”
An incredulous laugh burst from her lips, and she shook her head, folding her arms over her chest again. “You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”
“Like a puppy.”
“More like a dog,” she said just as quickly.
“He’s Vince Cool to the outside world, but with us, he’s Tanny Boy,” Carter said. “Because on our first night out he got wasted on car bombs at O’Briens and kept requesting ‘Danny Boy’ even though the band was playing Southern Rock, not Irish music.”
“Nah, he’s just Pidge to me,” Jaxson said, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and bringing his hands back behind his head. “Always will be.”
Maven hadn’t taken her eyes off me.
I wasn’t sure I ever could take my eyes off her.
“Pidge?” She finally asked.
“Pigeon,” I answered. “Just another word for rookie.”
“Ah,” she mused. “I like that one. Pigeon. Can I use it, too?”
“You can call me whatever you want to. Just make sure you like the name you pick.” I leaned in a little closer, lowering my voice. “I have a feeling you’ll be saying it a lot. Maybe in different decibels, too. Might want to try screaming it loud and high-pitched, just to make sure it feels right.”
Maven’s cheeks reddened again, just a light pink flowing over those warm brown cheeks peppered with freckles. I smirked at the sight of that blush, but it wasn’t there long before Maven clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.
“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” she asked.