Page 6 of Pucks and Likes

Ciaran’s bashful expression makes me laugh. He’s the most confident dude I know, but becoming a dad has him shy? That’s hilarious. “I never thought I’d want kids, but she makes me want them.”

I smack his shin with my stick. “You’ll be a great dad, bro.”

“Thanks, man,” he says softly.

But then something occurs to me. “Wait, when are you getting married?”

He laughs at that, his eyes bright. “You don’t need to be married to have a baby,” he scolds, and I snort.

“I know that, but Dan Davenport will want you two married.”

Ciaran nods. “Yeah, not that we care, but we are planning a small little thing this summer.”

I feign hurt. “And I wasn’t invited?”

He scoffs. “We haven’t invited anyone yet. We aren’t even sure if it’ll be more than family.”

I gawk at him. “I am family, asshole.”

His laughter is annoying. “I know, and you’ll be there.”

I give him a sidelong glance, but I’m just messing with him. “Sure.”

His laughter echoes through the rink, and I can’t help but join in. This is how we were before Louisa McDavid came along and stole my friend away. Not that I mind anymore. We all need to grow, and I want him to be happy. Louisa makes him happy. More than happy, if I’m honest. Those McDavid girls are a rare gift. I physically shake my head of that thought. It’s been six months; I need to stop with this hang-up I have for a certain hazel-eyed beauty. She didn’t want me, and there are plenty of women in the world who do.

Not that I’ve been putting myself out there.

Which doesn’t make any fucking sense. I love women. I love the curves of them and the feel of those curves in my hands. I love the taste of a woman and how they come undone under my tongue. Fucking a sweet mouth and making her gag sends me into fits. The feel of a tight pussy around my cock is my favorite thing after completing a shutout. But when I get a woman to scream my name as she comes apart, God take me, I’m done for. I love all the pleasure a woman can give me, but while getting my fill of a certain McDavid, I also fell for the intimacy.

Fuck me. Intimacy? I sound like fucking Ciaran. Or one of his romance books’ heroes.

But no matter how I sound, I know it’s true.

My favorite part of sex with her was the afterglow.

Her fingers trailing along my chest, tracing the tattoo on my neck and shoulders.

Her legs tangled with mine.

Her dripping center making a mess of my thigh.

My hand squeezing her sweet ass.

Her lips.

Her eyes.

Fuck me, I need to go fuck someone else.

I roll my eyes as I carry my water bottle back to the goal and throw it on top of the net. I want to ask Ciaran how she is. She hasn’t been posting much on her social media, only photos of the Knoxville Bears players and things going on at the arena. I only have her past photos to look at and enjoy. I’ve wanted to reach out, but I refuse to be rejected again. She didn’t even stop me when I left on our last night together.

She just whispered, “Good luck.”

That’s it. I don’t know what has her so closed off to wanting anything more, but I wish I could hurt the person who hurt her. It has to be that. She’s a vibrant, gorgeous, smart girl, and I’m a stud, so she should want me without question.

I’m a damn good time.

In and out of the sheets.

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