Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
CATALINA
"Hey."
I was scrolling through my phone after Marley and Eden left, killing a few minutes. I stopped to look at a Booktok video when someone flopped into the seat beside me.
I glanced up half expecting to see Cruz Brewer, come to make some condescending asshole remark. It wasn't him, it was his blonde friend.
"Hey." I glanced back at my video. The universal signal for ‘I'm not interested in a conversation right now.’
Like a true Booktok villain, he snatched my phone out of my hand and put it on his lap. "Don't you know it's rude to be on your phone when you're sitting at a table with someone else?"
"It only counts if they're invited to sit there," I said. I held out my hand for him to return my phone. Instead, he shook it, grinning the whole time. Smug prick.
"I accept your invitation—" He cocked his head, clearly wanting me to provide my name.
"I didn't extend one. Give me back my phone." He was ridiculously good-looking and clearly knew it. Lean, muscular, without excess fat anywhere. He probably had a huge cock, right now he was acting like one.
"Is that how we ask nicely?" His head was still cocked, but now he threw in an eyebrow raise.
Ugh. A guy like him would be dangerous as hell to my pussy if he wasn't such a jerk. Tell that to her though, because she didn't seem to be getting the message. She was ready to rain down hell on my panties.
"I don't have to ask nicely when someone steals my phone," I said evenly. "I could always knee you in the balls and take it back." I smiled with mock sweetness.
He grinned. Of course he fucking did.
"Feisty," he said approvingly. "My name is Easton. Are you going to tell me your name or do I have to give you a nickname? Cruz calls you Princess, but I think maybe Red. Or maybe—"
"Cat," I interrupted tersely. "Catalina Ryan."
That made him grin even bigger. "Cat. I bet you have claws." Still holding my hand, he ran the pad of his thumb over my palm.
My stupid clit responded by throbbing. He knew exactly the reaction he was getting from me. I saw it on his face.
"I know how to use them too," I said, trying to threaten rather than entice.
He leaned in closer. "I bet you do. Those claws would feel incredible raking down my back while I fuck the hell out of your pussy. What do you say we get out of here?" He jerked his head towards the door.
I leaned in towards him, almost close enough for our foreheads to touch. "Do you always come on to women you've just met?" I leaned back and frowned. "Actually, the important question here is— Does it ever work?"
He chuckled softly, not even slightly repentant. "Usually. Although, I don't often come on to women. It's usually them coming on to me."
He didn't seem to be bragging, just stating a fact.
I took my hand back and placed it in my lap. "I've noticed that about some hockey players. Women seem to find them appealing. Some women anyway."
"Not you?" He looked at me sideways.
"Nope. I've never seen the appeal myself. Maybe you could explain it to me." I tried to figure out how I could grab my phone back without my fingers accidentally brushing his groin. He didn't need any more encouragement.
He sat back in his seat and placed his hands behind his head. "Aside from the fact we're talented, muscular, fit, strong and know how to handle our stick?"
"You forgot humble and not completely in love with yourself," I said sarcastically.
He grinned. "Those as well. I don't have to be in love with myself, the Ghouls have a growing legion of fans to do that for me. Are you one of them?"
"I've never seen you play," I said bluntly. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm difficult to impress."
He lowered his hands, and held them out in front of himself, palms facing me. His eyes widened in mock horror. "No! I never would have guessed that. You totally don't walk around without an aura of—I don't know—world-weary pessimism."
"I prefer to think of myself as a realist," I said. "I don't see the attraction in chasing a little piece of rubber around the ice with a stick."
"You ice skate and you don't appreciate hockey?" He seemed uncertain as to how to respond to that. "How can that be?"
"You eat, but you don't like all food, do you?" I replied.
His brow crinkled. "I guess, but it's hockey. Tell you what, come to a game and let me change your mind. We're playing at the rink on Friday night. Come along and see for yourself. I'll even make you a little bet that you'll enjoy yourself."
"What do I get if I don't enjoy it?" I asked. Since I was going anyway, it didn't hurt to make a little side wager. One I was going to win, because there was no way I was losing to a guy like this. He was a typical, arrogant player, in both senses of the word.
"What do you want?" he countered.
"Not to be interrupted when I'm in my rink time," I said. This might work out all right after all. They could leave me alone and I wouldn't have to go to another game.
"Deal," he replied. "And if I win, you go out with me."
"With you?" I asked. "Why would you want to go out with me?"
He leaned over and brushed stray hair off my cheek with his thumb. "Why wouldn't I? You're cute and feisty. And then there are those claws."
"Which you will never get to feel," I said. "Unless you do something to make me scratch your eyes out."
"You say that now." He looked way too confident.
"Because it's true," I said, just as confident. I glanced at my watch and swore under my breath. "I need to get going. I guess we'll see you on Friday night." I held out my hand again.
This time, he placed my phone on my palm. It was still warm from his groin. For some reason, that was strangely arousing. My device was that close to his cock. That was probably oversized too, like his ego.
I had no intention of finding out. Not with him or any of his friends. I didn't need the distraction, any more than I needed to spend time with guys like that.
My clit throbbed in protest, even after I told her to shut up. She was no help at all.
I took my phone out of his hand, ignoring the way my whole body reacted to the graze of my fingertips over his calloused skin.
Don't be stupid, I told myself. There's no way you're getting involved with a guy like this.
Even if he was interested, which he wasn't. Men like him were interested in short-term relationships.
Nothing more than a night here or there.
That wasn't to say I was interested in anything more than that either, but I wasn't going to be some kind of puck bunny.
If he wanted someone to bury his cock in, he'd have to find another hole.
"Thanks." I closed my hand over my phone.
"You do have manners, Red," he teased.
"Cat," I corrected.
He snapped his fingers. "Right. Ginger is a better nickname for you then. Ginger Cat."
"If you call me that, I'm going to become a Ginger Snap," I said. "As in, a pissed off redhead."
"That's what I thought you meant." He grinned. "I don't mind if you get pissed off at me. Hate sex is one of my favourite kinds of sex. It's right up there with make up sex."
I suspected he didn't care what kind of sex he had, as long as he had it. I rolled my eyes in response and tucked my phone into my pocket.
"I guess that means I get to call you some ridiculous nickname," I said.
He spread his hands. "Do your worst. I dare you to give me one I haven't heard a million times before." He raised his eyebrows at me.
"I'll think about it," I said. "I'm sure I'll come up with something."
He seemed pleased at the idea. "I can't wait to hear it. I'm sure you're very…creative. You seem like the kind of woman who likes to be unique."
"I am." I rose from my seat. "Now I really have to go. I guess I'll see you on Friday night."
"I'll be counting the days," he said.
"I'm sure you will," I said under my breath. I was counting the days until I won my bet.