Page 72 of Branded
Laughter bubbled up in my throat, burst forth, his husky chuckles joining in and drifting over me like the softest velvet.
Then he kissed me again.
Kissed me until there was a loud knock at the door, until Raph’s voice echoed through the panel, calling out that Smitty better move his ass or else he was going to be late to practice.
A sigh as he released me, slowly allowing my feet to hit the floor.
He crouched slightly. “Dinner tonight?”
I sucked in a breath, suddenly felt perched on a precipice, unsure of which side to topple.
But that only lasted a moment.
Because I knew exactly which side I wanted to fall.
Twenty-One
Smitty
The puck flew through the air, coming straight for my face.
I swiped a hand up, used my glove to bat it down.
Cas, who was lining up to my right, smirked, “Just making sure that moony expression you’re wearing hasn’t affected your reflexes.”
“Dude,” I muttered, flicking the puck over to my line mate. “Not you, too.”
“Of course, me too, man.” Cas caught the pass, swiped it back to me. “You’re the biggest shit-giver in the room. This is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, being able to give you crap about being smitten with Kailey.”
Anger prickled through me. “Why wouldn’t I be smitten over her, assholes? She’s fucking?—”
“She’s great,” Cas interrupted. “I’m just loving that you’re whipped after giving Marcel and Oliver and Luc so much shit about it.”
Except, I might have given my friends shit, but Pru knew that I’d been longing for someone who saw me for who I was and didn’t find me lacking or dysfunctional. She’d given me the advice that had allowed me to recognize what I was feeling with Kailey, to not be scared of going for it.
Because I saw my friends being happy.
Because I wanted that, too.
Because…I was willing to put my heart on the line to find what they had.
So, I might give them shit, but we all knew that I was really fucking jealous—or had been jealous.
Kailey was…
Enough to take my breath away.
And even though we were new, even though I’d just gotten her to begin trusting me, I knew this was everything.
I still didn’t like being on the receiving end of the shit-giving, though I could admit that I deserved it.
“Well, you suck at giving shit, so you should just give up,” I grumbled, whipping the puck back over.
“Well, you suck…at…” His eyes flicked to the side. “Insert a lot of things I can’t think of right now because Jake is giving me that look that says we’d better stop fucking around otherwise he’s going to dump a boatload of new drills on us, and I really don’t feel like dying on the ice this afternoon.” He grinned. “I met this girl last night”—he brought his glove to his mouth, a la a chef’s kiss—“and she invited me over tonight for homemade pasta.” Another chef’s kiss. “Hockey. Carb loading. Fucking. The perfect trifecta of the day.”
I couldn’t disagree with that.
I also didn’t want to be on the receiving end of any extra drills from Jake.
