Page 69 of The Pucking Player

“You won’t have enough time to change your mind.”

The line goes dead, and I press my hands to my burning cheeks.

What am I doing?

But for once in my life, I don’t want to overthink it. Don’t want to be sensible, responsible Sophie. I just want...

A knock at the door makes me jump.

I pull the door open to find Liam filling the doorframe, chest heaving like he really did sprint up here. His tie is loose, hair messed up from my fingers earlier, and the hungry look in his eyes sends liquid heat pooling between my legs.

“Hi,” I manage, though we’re way past polite greetings after what his fingers just did to me in the hallway.

He steps inside, closing the door with a soft click.

“Been thinking about doing this all night,” he growls,crossing to me in two long strides. His mouth claims mine as he backs me toward my bedroom, hands already working at my clothes. “The way you taste. The sounds you make when I touch you.”

“Yeah?” I gasp as his teeth graze my neck. My fingers fumble with his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. “Show me.”

He presses me against my bedroom door, one hand sliding up my thigh. “Oh, I plan to.”

“Big talk, O’Connor.” But my voice breaks as his fingers trail down my collarbone, making me see stars.

“Trust me, angel,” he murmurs against my throat, “I know exactly how to make you fall apart.”

This is what it means to be utterly, gloriously ruined.

25

EXTRA HOT, JUST LIKE HER

LIAM

The first hint of dawn is barely touching the sky when I blink awake, Sophie’s warm body is curled against mine like she was made to fit there. Her dark hair spills across my chest, and she makes this tiny snuffling sound in her sleep that absolutely wrecks me.

The bedside clock reads six forty-five. She has her anatomy class at nine—a fact I know because I’ve memorized her schedule like some lovesick teenager. We only got to sleep around three in the morning, after round two left us both deliciously exhausted.

I should feel tired. Instead, I’m buzzing with this weird energy that has nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with how right this feels. Falling asleep with her in my arms, waking up to her soft breathing.

But the sneaking around and PR stunt lies are eating at me in ways I never expected. Coach Novak isn’t just Sophie’s father—he’s the man who took a chance on me as captain, who saw leadership potential in me. He’s turned me into the player I am, taught me about responsibility, about carrying the weight of the team on my shoulders.

And here I am, betraying his trust. Sophie deserves better than being my secret. Better than having to pretend we’re just for show. And Coach deserves better than lies from the player he’s mentored like a son.

The man might actually murder me when he finds out, and I wouldn’t even blame him. But at least I’ll face him as the stand-up guy he taught me to be. Time to own up to falling in love with his daughter, consequences be damned.

Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? Love.

Sophie stirs slightly as I ease out of bed but settles when I press a kiss to her temple. I dress silently, watching her burrow deeper into the warm spot I left behind. The sight does dangerous things to my heart.

The icy February morning slams with a force when I step outside. The campus is eerily quiet at this hour, just a few dedicated joggers and some seriously caffeine-deprived students shuffling toward early labs. My breath puffs out in little clouds as I jog toward the campus coffee shop, already thinking about the smile on Sophie’s face when she wakes up to her favorite drink.

Oat milk cappuccino, extra hot, light foam.

I’ve got her coffee order memorized. Along with the way she scrunches her nose when she studies, how she color-codes her notes by subject, and the exact spot on her neck that makes her gasp when I kiss it.

I am so completely gone for this girl.

The coffee shop is just opening, warm light spilling onto the frost-covered sidewalk. Inside, the baristas are still setting up for the day, the smell of fresh coffee mixing with the quiet buzz of early morning ritual. The girl at the counter does a double-take when she sees me.

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