Page 62 of King

I’m beyond excitedto watch the Titans practice, which is held at a practice facility and not the arena as there’s a concert scheduled there tonight. Although I’ve attended a game, the opportunity towitness King practice feels more intimate, like being given a VIP tour of his world.

Taking my seat in the stands, just two rows up from the ice, I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and intently watch the action. The practice begins with a series of drills, Coach West’s booming voice echoing throughout the arena as he directs each player. “All right, let’s run through the breakout drill! Defense, make those passes sharp!”

My eyes are drawn to King as he glides onto the ice. His movements are graceful yet powerful, leaving me breathless with every stride. He effortlessly commands the ice, making it seem like an extension of himself. I look at this strong, beautiful man who has the power to crack heads and the gentleness to make me come apart, and the dichotomy is as much a sexual turn-on as it is a sentiment to my heart.

With impressive speed and agility, King intercepts a pass and swiftly changes to offense, racing down the ice with determination. My heart pounds every time he touches the puck, silently urging him to do his best. When he does, it takes everything not to jump out of my seat to cheer for him, but I hold my excitement because the handful of other people watching the practice are very chill.

Someone approaches from my left and I note it’s Kiera. She says hello to a few other people, none of whom I’ve met yet, and then plops into the seat next to me. “Hey, Willa.”

“Hi,” I exclaim brightly. I enjoyed talking with Kiera the other night at Mario’s. We have a lot in common, especially since she’s a nurse. I also enjoyed watching her interaction with Bain, Drake and Brienne. She fits in so seamlessly with the Titans family and I wonder if that’s where I’m headed.

“First practice?” she asks.

I nod. “Spur of the moment. Do you come to a lot of these?”

Kiera shakes her head. “No. I’m only here because we’re going grocery shopping together after and I happened to be in the area. Not many of the SOs watch practices.”

“SOs?”

“Significant others. Wives, fiancées, girlfriends, non-romantic friends, but don’t include puck bunnies.”

Laughing, I ask, “What the hell is a puck bunny?”

“Women who make it their goal to sleep with professional hockey players. They throw themselves at these guys, dress provocatively, outright offer to sleep with them. Considered just a hookup, but not necessarily a one-night stand. They might be kept around for days or weeks until a player gets sick of them and moves on. They’ll never be serious, long-term potential.”

My jaw sags. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, although truth be told, not many of our guys are into the puck bunnies that I can see. At least not past a one-night-stand type of thing.”

“I have so much to learn,” I murmur.

Kiera pats my knee. “Stick with me young grasshopper and I’ll teach you things.”

I snort and am compelled to say, “I’m by no means young. At least not comparatively.”

Swiveling her head my way, she asks, “Comparatively to whom?”

I nod toward the ice. “Well, King for one. I’m eight years older than he is.”

Kiera waves a dismissive hand. “That means nothing. Now if you were twenty years older, I’d be high-fiving you for your major cougar balls, but King’s kind of an old soul anyway. I think you two are perfectly matched.”

More of that anxiety I keep in a small well in my chest unfurls at her statement. “You think?”

“Yeah. You both look like moon-eyed teenagers around each other. I’d lay money down this is the real deal.”

“Was it like that with you and Bain?” I ask.

Kiera barks out a laugh, her eyes cutting to me briefly before going back to the action on the ice. “God, no! We were just fuck buddies to start.”

“You were a puck bunny?” I tease.

“Funny,” she says dryly. “No. I was a mature, professional woman who liked sex—still do, for that matter—and Bain was my male counterpart. We agreed to a friends-with-benefits deal to start.”

“And then that changed,” I muse.

Kiera’s voice softens and she turns to look at me. “Yeah… it changed because love takes no prisoners.”

The bit of anxiety that had dissipated retightens. I’m not ready for love or to be its prisoner, although I highly suspect King would like to move that way. Before I can respond, a scraping sound has both of us turning to the ice to find King standing at the boards.

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