Page 81 of Pucking Obsessed

“F-f-fuck.” Shay’s pupils are blown wide.

“If you score more than I do,” I’m falling into dom headspace simply at the image that I’m creating; I’ll have to be careful that I don’t push Shay into subspace, “then I’ll writeproperty of D’Angeloon your cock.”

I’d prefer to tattoo it.

But I’ll take Sharpie.For now.

“Bloody hell, now I’m hard in these pants.” Shay’s expression becomes determined. “I’m winning that. My cock is yours, darlin’. And hellish as it is, this training will make me better. You’re like this superstar of the NHL. I’ve only just come up from college. I know that I have a lot to learn. I’ll work my arse off every practice that there is to prove to Colton and every other coach that I deserve to be here.”

My expression softens.

I let go of Shay’s neck. “I know you will. You’re the most hardworking player on the team. How the hell do you remain so positive? You’re this ball of sunshine, while I’m—”

“A grumpy bear?”

“Careful,” I growl (not at all like a bear). “This bear will be mauling you later.”

Shay winks. “Can’t wait, darlin’.” Then his expression becomes more serious. “I worked a shop job at weekends and after college from the age of sixteen. It was the only way that I could stay in education and make sure that I didn’t lose my hockey scholarship. In a job like that you learn to smile, be positive, but remember your place.”

I bristle. “What do you mean?”

Shay licks his dry lips. “It was this exclusive place that sold men’s bespoke suits and shit. It’s probably partly why I hate suits now. The female owner employed me to be trained upbecause I was apretty boy, who’d be popular with both theirfemale and male customers.”

My expression tightens. “What a predator. Why the hell did you take the job?”

Shay’s eyes flash. “Mom had three jobs. Dad had two. They worked around the clock to simply afford to rent this tiny place that… Look, they took Eden and me in and adopted us. We were these near feral kids, and Eden couldn’t talk. What do you think would have happened to us in the care system? But these people struggled their entire lives because they chose to take us in. I couldn’t add to their bills just because I wanted to stay on at college.”

“I understand, cucciolo,” I say, gently. “Butthatjob…?”

Shay avoids my eye, flushing with shame. “I’m not Eden. I’m smart but I can’t read well. I was only sixteen. Plus, where I grew up was rough, right? The best career for kids like me around there was to become a drug dealer. So, I saw this posh place with these suits and shit and I thought it could be okay. All I had to do was smile.”

“And was it okay?” I’m sure I know the answer to that already by the way Shay is banging his stick into the boards.

“It was,” Shay hits the stick harder, “until I was at university, and my rich teammates on the hockey college team started to come into the shop. Their families would come and watch the matches, then bring their spoiled sons in to buy them a gift — a tie, suit, or watch. The moment that I served them and they recognized me was always bloody humiliating. Their parents would be awkward and embarrassed on my behalf. The players would treat me like I was their personal servant, and I had to smile and keep up the act.”

Something uneasy moves inside me. “Is that what you still do? Just keep up the act?”

Shay shrugs. “It’s my talent, right? I’ve spent my life learning how to please people, at home, at work, and in bed…”

I suck in a horrified breath.

I grab Shay by the chin and force him to look at me. “You never have to act with me. You only need to please me because it brings you pleasure. Tell me that you understand.”

Shay looks conflicted. “With Robyn and you, it does bring me pleasure. I’m hardwired that way. But with everyone else…”

I grip him harder. “We’ll work on this. It’s your survival mechanism. Eden and you cope in different ways. And that’s fine. We are who we are, understood?”

Shay nods, relaxing.

“You’re no longer that poor kid, who was forced to keep smiling in that store, despite the taunting of those shitty, entitled rich kids.” My gaze becomes dangerous. “Did any of them make the cut to the NHL?”

Shay suddenly looks delighted.

He shakes his head. “The bastards are still in England.”

“The bullies are now the ones who are stuck in nine-to-five jobs, having failed to make it pro. They’ll watch your games, burning with jealousy becauseyou’rethe star of the newest team in the NHL. You’re blazing onto the scene. By the end of this season, you’ll be wealthy and able to walk into any store you like. Success is the best revenge. Those assholes are never going to achieve as much as you already have.”

Shay is vibrating with joy.

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