Page 46 of Pucking Only

It’s a lame excuse. I can tell that Jensen isn’t buying it. He scowls at me and shakes his head in irritation. Thankfully, before he can do any real digging into my answer, Coach’s voice booms across the locker room.

“Reece! I need to talk,” he says. “My office.”

Jensen looks between me and Coach before replying, “Be right there, Coach.”

He hesitates, giving me a pointed look and I can tell hedoesn’t want to leave me without getting a real answer out of me.

Forcing a reassuring grin, I tell him, “Go on. You know how pissed he’ll be if you keep him waiting, Captain.”

Jensen releases a long sigh. “Yeah, all right. But we’re not done talking.”

He turns and makes his way across the locker room to Coach’s office. I watch him go. Once he’s out of sight, I turn and hurry to the exit, determined to get away before he comes back. If Jensen starts digging too deep into what’s going on in my head, I might not have any choice but to face what’s in there myself.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: STAR

SKYLER

The soft glowof my laptop screen fills the room as I sit cross-legged on the couch, typing away furiously. I’ve been immersed in the code for hours, trying to make sense of the lines and animation interactions that have been giving me trouble. I’ve got the windows open and it’s raining outside, the sound making for a soothing background noise that keeps me grounded.

I lean back, rubbing my temples, trying to clear the fog in my brain. Since I fly back to California in about three weeks, I’m really starting to feel the pressure of getting this done. I need to have something really amazing to present to Ferguson by then. My thoughts keep drifting, and no matter how hard I try to focus on the game, I can’t stop replaying the events from last night out of my head. Carson was so off his game. I’ve never seen him like that before, especially on the ice. Grace hasn’t either and was genuinely worried that something was wrong with him. He’s always so sure of himself and confident. What was going on? And why can’t I stop worrying about him?

It’s both frustrating and distracting. I need to push it out of my mind, but it’s like it’s lodged there, refusing to budge.

Just as I’m about to dive back into my work, there’s a knock on the door. The sound startles me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I wasn’t expecting anyone. What time is it? Looking at my phone I realize I’ve done it again — worked for hours without realizing it. It’s nearly 10:00PM. Is Grace stopping over to check on me since I’ve been an unintentional hermit all day? Throwing on the oldNarutoshirt I have draped over the couch, I hop up, cross to the door, and look out the peephole. My heart slams against my chest and I let out a gasp.

Carson.

Before I can think better of it, I yank the door open. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. His hair is still damp, probably from a shower, and there’s a tension in his posture that makes my heart skip a beat. I haven’t seen him since the game. The sight of him now, here at my door, is both surprising and unnerving.

And, damn… he looks so fucking hot. He’s wearing a white t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest and - sweet Jesus - gray sweatpants.

GRAY-FUCKING-SWEATPANTS!

“Carson,” I say, my voice coming out more uncertain than I intended. “What are you doing here?”

He exhales, a heavy, frustrated breath, and deep blue eyes meet mine, filled with something I can’t quite read.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his voice low and strained.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I reply, stepping back to let him in. I close the door behind him, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in my stomach. This is the last thing I expected tonight, and I’m not sure I’m prepared for whatever this is about.

Carson doesn’t say anything at first, just paces the small living room like he’s trying to find the right words. I watchhim, trying to figure out what’s going through his mind. Finally, he stops, turning to face me. The intensity in his gaze makes me freeze.

“We need to talk about the other night,” he says, his voice rough around the edges.

I blink, stunned by his directness. The other night. I know he’s not talking about the game. He’s talking about the night that, despite my best efforts, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about either. I’ve tried to push it to the back of my mind, to chalk it up to a momentary lapse in judgment, but it’s always at the back of my mind, haunting me.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “Carson, I — ”

“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he snarls, moving to stand directly in front of me so he can glare down at me.

My jaw drops and I stare up at him in disbelief. “Me? I’m drivingyoucrazy? Are you fucking kidding me? How do I drive you crazy?”

He gnashes his teeth and looks absolutely feral. “Because of that night.”

“It was a mistake, Carson!” I insist, though my body tingles when I remember how good it felt to have him inside me. How well he stretched me and reached so deep into my pussy…

Shit, no! I am NOT thinking about that right now!

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