Page 94 of Pucking Revenge

THIRTY-FOUR

SARA

“Where are you taking me now?” I’m so intoxicated by this man I’m floating about an inch off the ground.

Brooks grins over his shoulder. He’s practically dragging me along behind him on the top floor of the arena, a place I rarely visit. “Live a little.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I squeeze his hand. “Your idea of living is bedazzling your penis. I’m not sure I can keep up.”

I still can’t wrap my head around it, even if I’m beyond excited to see it. And nervous.

I haven’t been shy about sex since college, but the idea of seeing my best friend’s penis makes me feel like a teenager. Giddy and slightly juvenile. If he whips it out, I can’t guarantee I won’t point at it or call it pretty. I can’t control my mouth when I’m around him. The most awkward things come out.

It’s truly mortifying.

“You ever going to get over that?”

With a playful wince, I shake my head. “Probably not.”

“Cool.” He dips his chin. “I’ll be prepared, then.”

Slightly offended but mostly amused, I knock my shoulder against his bicep.

The grin he hits me with lights up my insides. God, I like him like this. If things were always like this…

Don’t get ahead of yourself.

That reminder has me forcing my heart and my brain to rein themselves in.

We approach a solid black door I’ve never set foot beyond before, and Brooks holds it open for me. “Ladies first.”

“Great, so if we get caught, I’ll be the first one they see.”

His boisterous laugh follows me into the room. “Pumpkin, my family owns the building. Who’s gonna catch us?”

Bouncing on my toes, I spin to face him. “Beckett can be pretty scary.”

That comment pulls a chuckle from him. “The man I made friendship bracelets with yesterday? Yeah, I’ll take my chances.”

My heart warms, and my lips twitch at that mental image. I like that idea a bit too much. Brooks and his grown-ass billionaire brothers sitting around a dining room table, surrounded by colored beads, making friendship bracelets. It’s another perfect reminder of who he is. Of the Brooks he’s always been. Of the man I’m kind of crazy about.

The lights in the room are off, but because of the big window overlooking the rink, the unfamiliar space is easy to make out. “What are we doing in the announcer’s booth?”

He steps up beside me, his hands in his pockets, and scans the arena. “You asked me about my rituals a while back. I come here before every home game.”

I turn and take him in, silently waiting for him to elaborate. God, he’s so gorgeous. Tendrils of hair have escaped his bun since the photo shoot, and the scruff on his face makes the giant of a man look even more rugged.

“I visualize every potential play, as I’ve told you. I run through them up here. Kind of imagine the play-by-play as if the announcer is calling it. How I’ll stop the puck in each scenario.”

I can’t stop the smile that forms on my face. “That’s adorable.”

With a huff, he side-eyes me. “Adorable?”

“Not what you were going for?”

“Not quite.” His lips quirk. “But I’ll take it, I guess.”

“So why’d you bring me here?”

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