Page 101 of Collide
“You don’t hate me.” Then I tilt her head to take her in a deep kiss, one that elicits a surprised moan from her. The wet heat of her mouth sends a cascading pleasure down my spine.
I need the hat-trick, and the team needs to win. Not only because it’s Yale, but because I’ll do anything for a date with Summer. That motivation alone tells me we’ve got it in the bag.
WE DO NOT have it in the bag.
With a burst of speed, I enter the offensive zone, eyes fixed on the net. The crowd hushes when I release a slapshot, only to be denied by Benny Tang. I bite back a curse as I take off with the puck, gaining possession again to pass it to Sampson. Stationed to the left of the key, he snipes in a wrist shot that sounds the buzzer.
The next shot is mine, and my backhand flips into Yale’s net getting us another goal. Skating across the rink, I can’t keep from smirking when I bump into the glass where Summer sits.
When I point at her she glares and flips me off. She actually fucking flips me off.
I bark out a laugh just when Dylan skates into me. “Really want that date, huh?”
Of course, I want it. I wanther. Alone and all to myself.
As the last minutes of the game trickles on, I net another goal and we're tied. At three seconds to the buzzer, Cole Carter is our saving grace with a wicked shot that shocks the crowd and gives us our first Yale victory.
It’s ages before I step out of the madness of Ingalls Rink. “Two goals, and an assist. Plus we won,” I say when I see her smug face.
“Rules are rules,baby.” Summer holds out her hand. I drop my keys in her palm and she beams, clutching them tightly. From the looks of it, she won’t waste any time picking it up from the parking lot back at Dalton. It’ll be tough living without my truck for a week, but I like that Summer’s using something that’s mine.
“Preston. You coming for the next one?” Coach’s voice makes us turn. “We’ll need you to fight the refs on a bad call.”
The faintest blush of pink dusts her cheeks, and being able to spot it feels like a superpower.
“I’ll try,” she says.
Coach nods, slapping my back before heading to the bus.
“Not a fan, huh?” I tease her.
“That one referee sucked, and I only threatened him once,” she explains. I’m laughing when she glares. “I’ll meet you at the house. Gotta pick up my prize from the rink first,” she muses.
She follows Amara to her car, and I get on the bus. The forty-minute drive back buzzes with contagious energy, and I feel high off the win even as we hop off the bus and get in Dylan’s car.
After my shower, Summer lies on my bed, and the buzzing energy I’m feeling shifts. Summer finds me at the threshold, and her cheeks tint a shade deeper. Her face looks so warm and comforting it stirs something in my chest.
I gravitate toward her, cupping her face to bring her lips to mine. I kiss her so hungrily, she gasps when she falls back on my pillow, long brown hair fanning around her face. The pillow is going to smell like her, and as happy as that makes me, it’ll also make me miserable as hell when she’s not here and I have to smell her even when I'm sleeping.
“Your hair’s wet,” she whispers. Man, I love her fucking voice. I kiss the warm column of her throat up to her jaw. “Aiden.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re getting me wet.”
“I’d hope so.”
She groans against me. “Your wet hair is dripping on me.”
Placing my arms on either side of her head, I pull back, and sure enough, water droplets cover her cheeks and the hollows of her collarbones. I can’t stop smiling when I see her annoyed glare. I kiss her again for good measure, and this time she pushes harder. I allow her to flip us over so she can straddle my lap.
“Towel?”
“You’re sitting on it.”
She looks at the towel wrapped around my waist and lifts up, her hair in my face as she pulls it. She pouts. “Who wears boxers under a towel?”
I laugh. “I wanted to wrap your present.”
