Melting the Ice

Eight.

>Sebastian

CAUFIELD

>Kingsley better get his head out of his ass

HINTZ

> (sick emojis)

SMITH

>wht evn happned?

LARK

>1 of the trainers had to let pinky in the building

>security showed up

CAUFIELD

>bet mgmt found out and called Coach

KINGSLEY

>she’s fine

>does anyone know if Sweet Marigolds got renewed for season 4?

SMITH

>ICE KING WATCHES CHICK DRAMAS?!

KINGSLEY

>no

>>>>>

I didn’t apologize and didn’t see pink or fluff of Lynlee Scott for the next few days, either. Everyone was in a flurry. The season open set the tone for what was to come.

While I mostly ignored the team chat, I did catch a few conversations about her interviews. Smith tried getting the ‘hot agent’s’ number from her during his interview and was gently let down. That turned into a sparring matching between Smith and Johnston on the next day.

I woke up on game day confident that Lynlee Scott wouldn’t mess anything up. After eight seasons on the ice after my pro debut, I had game day down to a routine. A routine that practically guaranteed me a game worthy of my Ice King title. The worst games of my career had been last season when that routine was interrupted.

Everything was going exactly how it should. I was in the zone during morning practice. The off-season rust was gone. Drills were cohesive, and everyone was focused. After the team meeting to go over the final game strategies and media info for the day, I put new tape on all my sticks. Being Captain, I had an interview scheduled with a local sports reporter before the game began. The timing gave me just enough time to get lunch and take my pregame nap before returning to the arena.

I was headed to my car when it all came crashing down. Turning the corner, I came to a sharp halt. That damn pink hair was in soft waves cascading down her back. Had it always been that long and soft-looking? Every curve was defined by a purple and white dress that went to her knees. Lynlee held a pair of nude heels in her hand as she chatted with Seguin.

My temperature rose at least two degrees. Why the f**k couldn’t I take my eyes off her?

“Are you sure, Lyn? It’s a lot of fun,” Seguin smiled at her.

“Maybe next time. I have a whole bunch of stuff to catch up on. There is way more to learn about hockey than I thought,” she said. “Is this something you guys always do?”

“A handful of us do it every game together. It’s flexible because not all the guys are as rigid about their routines,” Seguin explained.

“Interesting,” she said, tilting her head. “Well, I have something else to ask you about now. I’ll come next time. Promise.”

“Fine. You’ll be good until the game, then?” he asked her.

“Yea,” she laughed. “Thanks. I’ll be ready to get out of this dress when I finally go home tonight, but I’m good.”

“Alright, see you in a bit then,” he smiled. Waving, he headed toward the door. Lynlee watched him go for a minute, then turned and headed in the opposite direction. Toward me.

Getting a full view of her was worse than from the side. The dress had a V cut over her chest but not low enough to show anything. A white band made a parallel V over her abdomen, accentuating her chest. My mouth was suddenly dry. And I was standing there like a gawking moron.

Her gaze connected with mine, and she rolled her eyes. “Problem?” she asked as she got close.

“You aren’t wearing shoes,” I said, pointing out the most obvious. I wasn’t going to point out that she was a walking distraction on game day in a dress like that.

She looked down at her bare feet and wiggled her toes. They, of course, were painted pink in the same shade as her hair. “I don’t usually wear heels all day if you must know. They are killing me.”

“The floor is disgusting,” I scoffed. I tried to focus on the ridiculous color of her toenail polish.

“Feet can be cleaned,” she shrugged. “Is there anything else? I didn’t eat this morning to get this damn dress on, so I don’t have enough energy to deal with your disdain.”

“My disdain?” f**k. She stood too close. Why did she smell like a bowl of fruit? Could she be any more annoying?

“You clearly don’t like me for whatever reason, Mr. Kingsley. While I won’t pass judgment as I know almost nothing about you, I won’t treat you with the same antipathy unless provoked,” she said.

“I haven’t provoked you,” I denied cooly.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are the human embodiment of a period,” she murmured to herself. With another deep breath, she squared her shoulders and focused on me. “I’m sure you are a very busy man, Mr. Kinsley. Please excuse me. Good luck on the ice this evening. I do hope both sides of your pillow are hot tonight.” Her tone was pleasant and practiced, but her jab still landed.

I clenched my jaw as she stepped around me and strode away. I could barely make out the soft thump of her heels against the commercial carpet of the hallway.

My fists clenched at my side. Lynlee Scott was trouble. I couldn’t let her get in my head. I had no room for her brand of drama or games. Neither did my team. We were going to win the cup, and a woman wasn’t going to f**k with that again.

>>>>>

“Seb, it’s time to get up.”

I shifted in my blankets, opening my eyes. Where was my alarm? Something moved at the end of the bed. Pink. “What the-” My question was cut off when hot lips lowered over my c**k. I hissed at the decadent warmth. Her tongue slid along the underside of my c**k as she sucked in most of it.

Doe-like grey eyes peeked up at me through long lashes. Her head bobbed slightly. I grabbed hold of her ponytail, forcing her lower. The thick, soft waves were long enough to wrap around my hand. This was one hell of a wake-up. My head fell onto my pillow. I closed my eyes again and used her hair to guide her where I wanted her. “Finally, that mouth of yours isn’t useless,” I groaned.

Her tongue swirled around my c**k as I pulled her back. I almost jerked out of her mouth. Where the f**k did she learn that? My c**k twitched in her mouth, making her smile before I filled her with it again.

An alarm started ringing somewhere. I was going to be late, but we were wrapping this up first.

Lynlee pulled away, my d**k leaving her soft lips with a small pop. She smiled back at me wickedly. When did I let go of her? “Time to get up, Seb,” she cooed. But her face wasn’t hers. The hair was right, and so were the eyes. Everything else was wrong. Lynlee didn’t call me Seb.

The alarm rang louder. Where was that coming from?

I looked to the end of the bed. Lynlee was gone. How’d she even get in? I rolled toward my nightstand, but then I was falling.

THUD.

“s**t,” I groaned. My alarm continued its incessant trilling. I reached up onto my nightstand and patted around until I found my phone. GAME TIME flashed across the top of the screen before I dismissed it.

I collapsed onto the hard floor with a grunt. How the hell did I just dream about Lynlee Scott blowing me?