Page 14 of Two Guys One Puck
“I can handle it.” And maybe I should be more honest, but I have to. If we are going to win this game, it’s my only choice.
“I’ve missed you, gorgeous,” Ktytor says the moment we’re on each other.
“You’re not getting to me today.” I keep up with him easily.
His fatigue shows after fighting against two of our guys for the first two periods. “How you tease me, ladybug. I’ll draw you out.”
We’re more physical than we’ve ever been, ramming into each other, and even with my pads on, the contact gets to me. Every time we slam together, I’m taken back to the parking lot for a millisecond. How his body felt against mine while he kissed me.
Why the fuck is he affecting me so much? I don’t even like men.
“You like when I’m pressed against you, don’t you?”
I shove off him, battling for the puck. “Your over-inflated ego needs a break.”
“But you don’t deny it.”
“You don’t fucking know what you’re talking about.” I shove away from him, going after the puck. I steal it and send it down the wall.
He pauses, which is unlike him. “I can smell it on you.” His words sink their way into my skin, penetrating far too deep.
What the fuck happened to my thick skin? How did he find a way under it?
I shove it to the back of my mind. We need to even up the score. That needs to be my focus, and I can help by stealing the puck as much as possible while preventing Ktytor from scoring.
We jostle back and forth, and every possession becomes a fight. I keep a lid on my anger, but I feed on his frustration. Is this how he feels? No wonder he loves getting me all riled up.
Preventing him from scoring becomes my life. Wolfe and I trap him between us, and when Wolfe snatches the puck, Ktytor curses.
He sends it up the side to Cox, and I grin at Ktytor before taking off down the ice. He growls, sprinting after me, but we’re too late. Cox spins around his defender then passes it to Ridgeway, who slams it into the back of the goal.
I throw my arm in the air. “Yes!”
“Lucky shot,” Ktytor scoffs.
I spin on him. “We are just as good as you.”
“Whatever you say, princess,” he says with such a smugness, it tells me he really believes it.
Fucking Monsters. Such arrogant bastards.
Ktytor gets taken out, and Coach does the same, giving me a break. I drink some water and take a minute to breathe before we’re both back in. He comes out with a fire under his ass. I don’t think he’s ever had a bad game, but I’ve never seen him play like this before. He found some reserve of energy, and we get even rougher.
He knocks me on my ass next play, clear tripping, but the ref fucking ignores it. Thankfully, Wolfe blocks his shot.
“Do you want me to take him for a bit?” Archangel asks, offering me a hand.
“I’m fine,” I say through my teeth.
“I don’t fucking believe you.” Archangel shakes his head. “He’s playing like a cunt. Everyone can see that. Anyone would lose their cool.”
“I said I’m fine.”
He searches my face. “Don’t get put in the box.”
I thought I could handle it, but Ktytor pushes every single one of my buttons. I hold it together until he hits me in the ribs—it’s a cheap shot.
Pain cuts through all the control I have. I’m about to throw down when Wolfe comes between us.
