Page 12 of Down to Puck

“That can be arranged,” I smirk, shamelessly eye fucking her.

Whatever she’s about to say, it dies on her lips. I can see the wheels turning in her head.

“Rule three,” I whisper, stepping closer. “We finish what we start. I’ve never given up on anything, Yasmín. You read my medical file, right? I don’t quit. When everyone says stay down, I get back up. When the guys leave for the bar, I stay and do another round of drills. When they sleep in, I’m already on the ice.”

She nods, biting her lip. I’m doing my best to lay it all bare— to scare her off. If she’s going to get cold feet, I want it to be now. While my heart can still survive the impact.

“I don’t have a file you can read, but I’m not a quitter, Emerson. I’m a fighter,” she says.

Her face is so beautiful. Eyes full of fire, lips swollen from my kisses, chin up and ready for another round.

“Good. I’m going to pick you up tonight at seven,” I say, turning to head out of the gym.

“Hey Emerson, we’ve still got thirty minutes of PT. You quitting on me?”

I turn back, closing the distance between us with the speed I usually reserve for the ice. She startles as I draw close, her lips parting, eyes half-lidded as I lean down into her face.

“Yasmín, if I stay another ten minutes, everyone is going to hear you screaming my name. If I stay another thirty, I’m going to be inside you. I’m going to go take the coldest shower in history and then ice my knees for tonight.”

Without waiting to hear her response, I spin around and stride out of the gym.

I’ve never felt so good leaving PT in my life.

5

Yasmín

Emerson is as maddening as he is captivating.

As much as I enjoy spending time with him, he’s the most frustrating man I’ve ever met. Being near him makes me want to scream— in more ways than one. His hands are so strong that I can’t think of much beyond how much I need to feel them. Everywhere.

“Seriously, Skylar? What kind of question is that?” I glare at her over the small mountain of clothes piled on top of my comforter. “No, I don’t have a date-worthy dress. What part of socially anxious wreck did you miss?”

Sky looks up from her side-by-side comparison of two nearly identical black skirts.

“Yas— I’m going to need you to take a few deep breaths.” She demonstrates, sucking in a lungful of air and blowing it out slowly. “There you go. Listen, you know I love you, right? How many cups of coffee do you have in the morning? Whatever it is, cut it in half. I can feel you vibrating from here.”

Sky chuckles at her own hilarity before diving back into the contents of my closet.

“I switched to decaf months ago,” I admit with a laugh of my own. “This is all nerves and anticipation. Please tell me you can bippity boppity boo this pile of scrubs and sweats into a cute date night outfit.”

Skylar hums noncommittally.

“Miracles require at least twenty-four hours' notice.” Sky begins pulling shirts and sweaters from the center of the pile. “But I’ll see what I can do. Did Emerson mention where you were going?”

I shake my head, color flooding my face at the memory.

“Not exactly. It was — we were making out in the gym. He just said he’d pick me up—” I glance at my phone. “In fifteen minutes. Shit, Sky. Maybe I should cancel. We can try again after the season.”

Skylar grabs my shoulders, stopping the train of my thoughts before it completely derails.

“No need to panic. If he didn’t have any suggestions, it won’t matter much anyway.” She shoves an armful of clothing into my hands. “You can’t go wrong with jeans. Where’s that red lipstick you stole from me in junior high? I know you’ve still got it in here somewhere.”

I groan, flopping back onto the bed.

“Look on the bright side,” Sky grins down at me, holding up a handful of pink lace. “It’s not laundry day, so you’ve got matching undies. Now—”

She pokes me in the side until we’re both giggling.

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