Page 4 of Power Pucking Play

My breath catches, a cry escaping me as he fills the deepest parts of me, stretching and owning me in ways that, after tonight, I know I will never admit.

Chapter 2

Lexi

Six Weeks Later

"Brookes! My office, now!"

I freeze, Charlie Holcomb's booming voice cutting through the chaos.

The bustling newsroom of Sports News Now pulses with energy, but I barely notice. My fingers fly over the keyboard, finishing up my latest article on the Chicago Blades' recent losing streak.

In response to the summoning scream of my boss, I weave through the maze of desks, clutching my coffee like a lifeline. The bitter aroma helps clear the fog from my brain after a late night of writing.

It also helps distract me from the few curious glances following me as I make my way to the corner office.

I step inside, my heart pounding. This can't be good.

"Close the door," he barks as I step inside.

I comply, setting my coffee cup down, trying not to fidget in my blue blouse and pencil skirt. "You yelled for me, sir?"

"Yes, I did. Have a seat."

I settle into the chair in front of his desk, mentally preparing myself for whatever punishment or impossible task is about to be thrown my way.

"Brookes, you've been with us for two years now, and you've made quite an impression. Your writing has improved, and your work ethic is commendable," he starts off with surprising praise. "Which is why we promoted you to the co-lead sports correspondent spot in the first place."

My heart lifts slightly at the compliment, but I know there's still a “but” coming.

"However, we're looking to shake things up around here. We need fresh ideas and new talent. So, I'm assigning you a special project," he says, leaning back in his leather chair, his balding head gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

I lean forward, intrigued. "What kind of project?"

He opens his mouth but then stops. "I think it's best you see for yourself."

He slides a file across his desk. I pick it up and flip through the pages, my eyes widening with surprise.

I can feel my eyes straining as I stare at the photo of the familiar face looking back at me.

Dark hair. Green eyes. A smirk that's equally saying “fuck you” and “fuck me” at the same time.

Giovanni De Luca.

My best friend's brother. Star defenseman for the Chicago Blades pro hockey team.

And the man I slept with just six short weeks ago.

I swallow. "You want me to do a feature on Gio De Luca?"

"Exactly. Exclusive access. Two weeks of a behind-the-scenes look at the life of one of hockey's biggest stars. On and off the ice."

"But...why me? I mean, I haven't exactly been flattering in my previous coverage of him. Plus, it's not like he'll agree to this. The man's as loyal to the press as my cat is to a bath."

"Well, I don't know much about the bathing rituals of felines, but we need someone who isn't afraid to push boundaries and ask tough questions. Plus, you have personal connections to the De Luca family, which could make for an interesting angle in your piece."

I nod slowly, thinking of all the interesting angles Gio had hit within my body that night.

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