Page 95 of Pucking Amazing

That’s all it takes to send me over the edge. I slam deep and empty myself inside Tyler with a low groan. He tenses and spills over my fist with a shout, his ass clenching around me.

We collapse onto the messy sheets, chests heaving. Sydney lets out a satisfied sigh. “Mmm, good morning to me.”

“Just wait until we have you here in person,” I say with a smirk she can probably hear.

“Looking forward to it. But you boys better get moving—big day today. Bring home a win for me tonight!”

“You know it, babe. Talk to you later.” I end the call and drop a kiss between Tyler’s shoulder blades. He wraps his arms around me, pressing soft kisses to my sweat-dampened temple.

“Thanks for last night,” he mumbles into my shoulder. “Sorry to break down on you like that…”

I lift my head to look at him, cupping his jaw tenderly. “Hey, you have nothing to apologize for, okay? I’m glad you felt safe enough to open up to me.” I brush my thumb over his stubbled cheek. “I want to be here for you, Ty. In every way.”

Tyler’s eyes search mine, vulnerability shimmering in their blue depths. “This thing between us...it’s real, isn’t it? It’s not just sex anymore.”

My heart stutters in my chest. He’s right. Somewhere along the way, amid the flirting and fucking, real feelings have taken root. Deep, powerful emotions like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

“Yeah,” I whisper roughly. “It’s real. So real it scares the shit out of me sometimes.”

A smile blooms across Tyler’s face, boyish and beautiful. “Me too. But it’s the good kind of scary, you know? Like...like we’re on the edge of something amazing here.”

I nod, throat too tight for words. Instead, I lower my head and capture his lips in a passionate kiss, trying to pour all my feelings into the press of my mouth on his.

And then I reluctantly pull away and slap Tyler’s ass, herding us both up and out of bed. Syd’s right, it’s time to get our game faces on.

The Cup is waiting.

The roar of the crowd thunders in my ears as I glide onto the ice, the weight of their expectations bearing down on me like a physical force.

Game one of the playoffs... here we go.

Across the rink, Tyler takes his place in the net, lean muscles rippling beneath his jersey. Even with the tension I know he’s carrying, his movements are fluid and graceful, like a panther stalking its prey.

The puck drops and the game explodes into a flurry of sticks and skates. These guys came to play today. I dart between defensemen, the cold air burning my lungs as I push for the goal. Ty makes a spectacular diving save and I can’t hold back a whoop.

“Yes Ty, that’s my boy!”

But the other team is hungry. They slam us against the boards, fighting for every inch. I wince as pain shoots through my bad knee on a pivot. Can’t let it slow me down. Team needs me. Mom needs me.

Back and forth we battle, the scoreboard slowly climbing. Tyler is a wall in the net, but I see it wearing on him, eyes clouding with doubt when one slips through.

“Shake it off Ty, you got this!” I call, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.

I fake out their center and shoot—denied!

Frustration boils in my gut as we head into the third period tied 2-2. We need this win. The team needs it, the fans need it...Tyler needs it. I catch his eye as we line up for the face-off.

There’s a wealth of emotion swirling in those baby blues—determination, fear, exhaustion. But beneath it all, trust. Trust in me, in us.

The puck drops and I surge forward, my muscles screaming as I push hard, determined to bring home a victory at any cost. Their defense descends on me but I spin away, peripheral vision locked on Tyler’s crease. One of their goons slashes at my sore knee and I stumble, biting back a cry of pain.

Ty shouts my name, his voice cracking with worry. It’s like a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart. Gritting my teeth, I straighten up and charge ahead.

I won’t let him down. Not now, not ever.

Their goalie squares up as I approach, his stance textbook perfect. But there—a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a twitch of his blocker. I see my opening and I take it.

The puck rockets off my stick, sailing over the goalie’s left shoulder and hitting the back of the net with a satisfying swish. The red goal light blazes to life and the arena absolutely erupts.

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