Page 11 of Pucking Obsessed

Hayden breathes in deeply, his expression hardening as if he’s weighing his next words carefully. He takes a step closer, and I feel my heart race. "And the asshole that was following you home from that shitty ass truck stop? Was he one of your father’s bad business deals or...?" His eyes are molten now, filled with dark possessiveness.

My stomach drops because I feel completely exposed because he clearly knows more about my life than I do. Hayden’s hand lifts slowly, and before I can think to move away, his fingers are cupping my cheek. I don’t pull away because I can’t force myself. His touch feels so comforting, which surprises me.

“There’s something you need to consider,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “I’d kill every last motherfucker on this planet before I let someone hurt you.”

I swallow hard, my breath catching as I look up at him, silently pleading with him to make this ache I have for him dissipate.

I want to say something, but he leans down and crashes his lips against mine. It’s rough, it’s urgent, and it’s everything I’ve been trying to ignore. He pulls me in, molding my body against his, and I lose myself in him. His hands tangle in my damp hair, tugging me closer, and my arms find their way around his neck, pulling him deeper.

This kiss? It’sinsane.It’s everything I want, and nothing I’m meant to have. His body is hard against mine, every muscle tight under his hoodie. He’s hard, and as he grinds against me, I can feel how much he wants me.

Hayden groans into my mouth, a low, raw sound, and I can’t help but let him take control. I feel his desire for me in every inch of his body, in the way he presses against me, in the way he flicks his tongue, trying to taste every angle of my mouth. My towel slips slightly, but enough to expose one of my breasts. As if on instinct, his large palm comes up quickly to cover it, kneading it like he’s been dying to touch me for eternity. He pinches my nipple, rolling it between his fingers.”Fuck, baby,” is all he gets out before his mouth is back on mine.

I sigh, leaning further into him, but it’s Hayden who pulls away reluctantly, both of us gasping for breath. His hands move to my face, his fingers brushing over my lips like he can’t believe this is happening either.

“I’m going to let you get dressed now on one condition,” he says, voice rough, low. “Because if I don’t leave right now, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from peeling you out of that towel. So I’m going to leave, if you come to my next hockey game. Front row. There to watch me.” He makes a low sound like he’s annoyed when he adds, “Only me.”

I want to grab him, pull him back to me and tell him that I want him to do just what he’s saying he shouldn’t. I stop myself because he’s right. Normally I’d fight him on this. There is no way I want to be at a college hockey game, igniting more rumors that I’m sleeping with my soon to be stepbrother. I don’t have the mental capacity to argue with him and win right now so I nod, but it’s almost like I can’t move. He steps back and makes his way to the door. I don’t miss the fact that he dips his hand inside his sweats, adjusting himself so his hard bulge isn’t quite so obvious. I press my thighs together and I feel the wet heat pooling there, pulsing with a need that only Hayden can quench.

He pauses at the door looking over his shoulder, and his words send a shiver down my spine. “Don’t ignore my texts, or I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to have a sleepover.”

HAYDEN

I’m slamming the puck against the net, feeling the ice bite at my blades as I rip across the rink. The satisfaction of watching the puck hit its mark is fleeting, drowned out by the burn in my chest. The only thing I can think about is Madison. It doesn’t matter what I do on the ice. It doesn’t matter that I’m in the middle of practice with my teammates screaming and shooting pucks around me.

Every time I look up, she’s there. Or not there, I should say. She’s avoiding me, like I’m some kind of disease. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s just slipping through my fingers, like sand in an hourglass and I don’t have time to flip it over. The fact that I didn’t slip her towel off and toss her on the bed the other night is a miracle. It was, and will probably forever be, the single hardest and most annoying thing I’ve had to do. It was the right thing. I could see it on her face, she wanted me almost as much as I needed to be inside her. I was too keyed up, too reckless. I would have hurt her. I wouldn’t have been able to pace myself, to make sure that she enjoyed it as much as I know I’m going to.

“Focus, Lockwood!” Coach shouts from the bench. I don’t know what his fucking problem is. He’s been on his laptop and phone the entire practice. I don’t even bother responding to theold bastard. I shoot the puck again, harder this time, making it whistle past Tristan. He’s standing in front of the net, but he’s fucking with his ear buds instead of trying to stop the pucks. He’s probably the only person who won’t give me shit for being so consumed by Madison. I know what he listens to all the time, and he’d probably slit my throat if I ever said it out loud.

He lives in the same house as Callum and me, and one night when he was having a particularly bad night terror, we had to kick his door in to see what the fuck was going on. He’d ripped his room to shreds, and after the chaos had subsided, I picked one up off the floor. I listened to see if they were on, and to my surprise there was no music. There was only rhythmic breathing, like the person was asleep. It only became clear when I heard Winter’s sleepy voice mumble Tristan’s name. The motherfucker recorded her while she was sleeping so he could listen to it when he went to bed.

I’m not hating on him for it, just annoyed I didn’t think of it first. Something like that would probably get me through the sleepless nights I’m plagued with since meeting Madison. Tristan can’t have Winter for more complicated reasons than what I’m dealing with. Madison sleeping in my bed every night is end game, I just need her to want it.

Callum skates over to me, knocking my stick out of my hand and cackling like he’s a fucking toddler. His smirk says it all before he even opens his mouth. “Judging by your stellar mood today, I’m guessing things aren’t going well with blondie?”

I grunt, picking up my stick and swiping his feet out from under him. I wait for his ass to hit the ice before I say, “They’re going just according to plan, you nosy asshole.”

Callum lets out a low laugh, pushing up off the ice. A puck comes sailing toward us and he effortlessly intercepts it and quickly shoots it to the far side of the rink. “You know what you should do, right?”

I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the tension. “What?”

“Kidnap her,” Callum says with a grin, his voice dripping with that cocky edge. “Move her in our house like Big T did with Winter. That way, she won’t have a choice but to fall in love with you.” I snicker because Tristan fucking hates when Callum calls him that. Callum’s justification? Tristan is exactly one inch taller than me, and two inches taller than Callum.

I laugh, but it comes out bitter. “Yeah, Callum. That’ll definitely work. Maybe I should also force her to marry me.” I’m being sarcastic, but it seems to ghost right over his head. Callum is probably one of the smartest people I know, but he doesn’t pay attention to anything he doesn’t want to.

He laughs with me, but there's a glint in his eyes. "You never know, might just be the move."

I shake my head at him and we both keep skating, focusing back on the practice, but the conversation hangs in the air like a bad idea. I can’t get the thought out of my head. Could I just take her? Make her stay with me, make her see what I’ve known since the moment I laid eyes on her?

“What’s that about?” Callum asks as we pass a few of the other players and he nods over to Coach. I realize that Tristan has left the ice and it looks like he’s getting a vigorous ass chewing.

I snicker, watching as Tristan stands there with his head tipped back, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s being inconvenienced. Coach is red in the face, and by the looks of his jerky hand movements, he’s really upset. “I don’t know. I wonder if Coach got an email about Tristan beating the fuck out of those football players that broke Winter’s phone?”

Callum’s head jerks to the side, his eyebrows lifting. “Oh, shit. I heard about that, but I didn’t know it was him. I heard your sister at breakfast gossiping in the line to get food. She said two players got absolutely rocked.”

I smirk, shaking my head. “That tracks. I didn’t see what happened, but I picked him up that night.”

Callum smirks at me. “If I get as bad as you two with some chick, just drag me outside and shoot pucks at my head.”

---