Chapter 2 Nox
Six forty-five AM, and I'm already at my favorite game: making Joey Winters blush.
"That's completely inappropriate," she says for the third time, adjusting her glasses. They're definitely the ones from yesterday. Good girl.
"I'm just asking about your social media experience." I lean back in my chair, enjoying the way her cheeks flush. "Like, have you ever handled anything as big as my ……following?"
The conference room feels smaller with just the two of us. She's wearing a pencil skirt and blazer combo that's trying hard to be unsexy and failing miserably. Her dark hair is twisted up in some complicated knot that makes me want to unravel it. Slowly.
"Mr. Murphy."
"Nox,"I interrupt, just to watch her jaw clench.
"Mr. Murphy," she continues, all prim and proper, "your following isn't that impressive. The team account has twice your numbers."
I slide my chair closer. "Quality over quantity, Winters. My engagement rates are through the roof."
"Yes, because you insist on posting thirst traps."
"Thirst traps?" I press a hand to my chest in mock offense. "I'm wounded. I post educational content."
"You posted a slow-motion video of yourself pouring a water bottle over your head after practice."
"Hydration awareness."
She makes this little sound of frustration that goes straight to my groin. "The video was set to 'Pour Some Sugar On Me.'"
"A classic about the importance of electrolytes."
"Elf you," she whispers, and holy hell, that shouldn't be as hot as it is.
I lean in closer, dropping my voice. "You know, most people would consider that a promise, not an insult."
The blush spreads down her neck, disappearing under her collar. I have a sudden, vivid image of following that blush with my tongue.
"Can we please focus?" She pulls up a PowerPoint, but her hands shake slightly on the mouse. "Your media presence needs serious rehabilitation before the Winter Classic."
"What's wrong with my presence?"
"Where do I start?" She clicks through several slides of my greatest hits. "The naked hockey. The 'locker room tour' that was just you flexing indifferent mirrors. The 'how to tape a stick' video where you made inappropriate jokes about grip strength for fifteen minutes."
"Those videos got more kids interested in hockey than any official NHL campaign."
Something flickers across her face. "That's actually true. But—"
"But nothing." I stand up, moving behind her chair. "I know my audience."
She tenses as I lean over her shoulder, pretending to look at the screen. Her perfume is subtle, vanilla and something floral. It makes me want to bury my face in her neck.
"Your audience," she says carefully, "includes impressionable young fans. Teams are family entertainment."
"Teams are entertainment, period." I rest my hands on the back of her chair, bracketing her without touching. "And I'm very entertaining."
She spins her chair around, probably meaning to tell me off, but now we're face to face. Her breath catches. Those chocolate brown eyes widen behind her glasses.
"You're too close," she whispers.
"Am I?" I brace my hands on her armrests, caging her in. "Seems like the perfect distance for media training. You know, intimate one-on-one coaching."
"This is harassment."
"Is it? I'm just being thorough." I let my gaze drop to her lips. "Teaching requires close attention to detail."
Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip. It takes everything in me not to chase it with my own.
"Mr. Murphy."
"You should really call me Nox." I lean in closer, my mouth near her ear. "Especially since you're already thinking about screaming it."
She shoves my chest, hard. I let her push me back, grinning.
"You're impossible." She stands up, smoothing her skirt. "And delusional."
"Your pulse is racing." I tap my own neck where I can see her heartbeat fluttering. "Very unprofessional, Ms. Winters."
"It's called anger."
"It's called wanting to climb me like a tree."
"Elf you!" This time it's louder, almost a proper curse.
"Getting warmer." I step closer again. "Come on, Joey. Let it out. Say what you really want to say."
She backs up until she hits the wall. I follow, planting one hand beside her head.
"What I want," she says, voice shaking slightly, "is for you to take this seriously."
"I am taking it seriously." I trace one finger along her jawline. "I'm seriously considering kissing you until you forget every proper word you know."
Her eyes flutter closed for a split second. Victory.
But then she ducks under my arm and heads for the door. "This session is over."
"We've still got forty minutes."
"Use them to come up with appropriate social media content." She grabs her laptop. "Email me your ideas."
"I've got ideas right now." I catch her wrist, tugging her back. "Very detailed ones."
She looks at where I'm touching her, then up at my face. Something hot and dangerous passes between us.
"Let go."
"Make me."
For a moment, I think she might actually do it. The air crackles with possibility.
Then her phone rings, shattering the tension. She jerks away like I've burned her.
"Tomorrow, "she says, not looking at me. "Same time. And if you can't maintain professional boundaries, I'll conduct all future training via Zoom."
"Coward."
That gets her attention. "Excuse me?"
"You're scared." I step into her space one last time. "Not of me. Of how badly you want to mess up that perfect image of yours."
"You're wrong."
"Prove it." I brush my thumb across her bottom lip. "Stay. Finish the session."
She bites my thumb. Not hard, but enough to send heat straight to my cock.
Fuck!
"Email me your content ideas," she says. Then she's gone, heels clicking down the hallway.
I lean against the wall, adjusting myself in my jeans. "Elf me, indeed."
My phone buzzes.
It's an email from [email protected]: Appropriate Content Guidelines
Message: That was your first and only warning. Tomorrow we do this professionally or not at all. And Mr. Murphy? I bite harder when provoked.
I grin, already drafting my reply.
To: J.Winters@
Subject: Re: Appropriate Content Guidelines
Message: Promise? Also, you still haven't told me if you liked the hockey video. Don't worry, I've got more where that came from. Wait until you see what I can do with a candy cane. ??
Her response is immediate:
I look forward to discussing your inappropriate use of holiday imagery with HR.
I send back:
Liar. You look forward to seeing it in person. Sweet dreams, Winters.
This time there's no response, but I know she's reading it. Probably blushing. Maybe squirming a little in that prim little pencil skirt.
Tomorrow's going to be fun.
I head to practice with a whistle and a growing obsession with making Joey Winters say something much stronger than "elf you."
Game on.