Page 80 of Pucking the Team
Ben nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
“Yes.” I stood and kept the throw around my nakedness, clutching it at my sternum. The AC really was chilly. “I feel like I’m on the verge of falling apart, like the glue that keeps me together has been eroded by Steven and Cheryl’s treachery.”
“We’ll hold you.” Theo stood and set his palm on my cheek. “We’ll hold you tight, don’t worry.”
And then in one quick movement he swooped me into his arms, knight-in-shining-armor style.
“Oh!” I wrapped an arm around his neck. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you to bed. We’ll hold you, carry you, fight for you, whatever you need.”
I didn’t answer. His words were like a balm and his strong arms like a Band-Aid. As we went up the stairs, Ben was close behind, and I knew I’d swapped a night of sobbing into my pillow for a night of being wrapped in strength and truth.
When I woke the next morning I was wrapped in Ben’s arms, our legs were tangled, and the scent of his flesh filled my nose. I’d had a deep, dreamless sleep, and it took me a moment to want to open my eyes.
When I did, I realized that Theo wasn’t there.
“Theo’s headed off for practice early, he has ground to make up because he missed yesterday.”
“Ah, I see. When did he leave?”
“A few minutes ago, maybe that’s what woke you up.” Ben kissed my brow. “You slept well.”
“I did.” I rolled from his arms, enjoying the slight ache in my hips from riding Ben the evening before.
“Want some more sexual healing?” His warm hand snaked over my abdomen.
I giggled. “Definitely, but I need food first, I’m starving.”
“You wake up starving?”
“Always.”
“Fair enough.”
He propped onto his elbows and watched as I stood and stretched, going onto my toes and elongating my torso.
“Fuck, you need to be careful doing that,” he muttered.
“Why?” I lowered my arms.
“Because starving or not, it’s taking all my willpower not to drag you back onto this bed and fuck you hard.”
I threw him a wink. “A big bad hockey player like you, I’m sure you can resist a little thing like me.”
“Don’t bet on it.” Darkness brimmed in his eyes, and I knew if I didn’t make a swift exit, a hard fucking was exactly what would happen.
I grabbed a pair of panties and then slipped on the robe I’d bought for the Maldives—patterned with palm trees—and strode from the room. “Come on, I’m making pancakes.”
The big house was quiet and bright, the morning sun streaming in through all the windows. My phone was on the kitchen island, and out of habit I tapped the screen. No messages for once.
Soon I’d whisked up pancake batter and was chopping fruit.
“Wanna coffee?” Ben asked. He’d showered and pulled on a red Viper t-shirt and black sweats. His hair was damp.
“No, I’ve got tea.” I pointed to a mug.
My phone rang.
