Page 13 of Caught from Behind

Making me think in circles.

“Enough, man,” I mutter, “I need less conversations about commitment and cheesecake and your fucking sister, and more focus on hockey.”

He purses his lips together then sighs and shakes his head. “Fine,” he says, starting forward again, “we’ll focus on hockey, but”—a knowing look in my direction, mischief in blue depths—“I’m just saying…”

I groan.

He chuckles, but thankfully—fucking finally—drops the subject to focus on our game tonight against the Oakland Eagles. “What do you think about Rome Dawson? With the strength and speed he’s been bringing to his games we’re going to have a hard time stopping him tonight.”

“The kid just parks his ass in front of the net,” I say, grasping onto that conversational shift like the lifeline it is, “and goes for the tip.”

Rome smirks over at me, waggles his brows. “Good thing you’re excellent at clearing the crease.”

“Goddamn, asshole,” I grumble, shoving him to the side and walking down the hall. “You can make anything sound dirty.”

He pushes past me. “It’s a gift.”

“It’s a goddamned curse,” I mutter, but he doesn’t hear.

Because he’s moved into the locker room and officially switched into Hockey Mode.

And I’ve got no choice but to do the same.

Hockey Mode has no power against the Adlers.

Specifically, a certain female Adler who’s currently sitting on the other side of the glass from me, surrounded by snacks and kids who are begging her to do their hair. And, even though I know she worked a full day—because she always works full days—she ensures that everyone who wants their hair braided or ponytailed and doused with glitter in the Sierra’s colors gets their chance. And all the while, she and Nova are smiling and laughing, two beautiful souls highlighted in the bright lights of the arena.

Lake approaches his woman and they grin and wave at him, helping him distribute the pucks he tosses over the glass, making sure all the littles get a free souvenir.

Nova snaps a couple of pictures, mouths something to her man, and then Lake is skating away, disappearing down the hall, slipping back into Hockey Mode, prepping to beat the Eagles.

Knox wraps up a few more warm-up exercises before joining him.

And then I’m mostly alone on the ice—a couple of skaters from the Eagles playing straggler like I am.

“Enough,” I mutter, turning for the bench, for the locker room.

I need to focus on the game, snap into that Hockey Mode my teammates have adopted.

But then I see the Sharpie.

And the pile of pucks.

And remember Lake tossing them over the glass to Ella and Nova.

And…fuck me sideways, but Knox’s words slide through my brain.

Ella smiles again, mischief and brightness evident even from all the way across the ice.

A hand on my thigh, breasts brushing against my arm, the soft scent of woman in my nose.

My cock twitches in my cup—not comfortable in the least. But it’s a reminder of what I’ve felt from the moment I saw this woman—need, desire, a thread linking me to her.

It’s that thread that has me picking up the marker.

And a puck.

And skating across the ice.

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