Page 230 of Wrong Pucking Player

That balance between my need for female affection and a dominating male in the bedroom.

Wyatt didn’t seem like one who’d take charge behind closed doors, but what he did just now proves me wrong.

“If we don’t get to do that ever again, I’ll die,” Kenzie quietly admits before moving to rest her head on my shoulder. “And I don’t think I’ll get feeling in my legs in five minutes.

“Likewise,” I confess and look to Wyatt as he’s buttoning his pants before running his hand through his hair.

Reaching for the pump, he’s punching buttons before it stops beeping and is safe to put off. Then he reaches over to my arm after gathering a bandage and some gauze and easily unhooks me from the device.

“Ten minutes is all I can manage,” he announces as he uses his hands to smooth out his shirt and further ruffle his hair. “I’m sure those interviewers would want a say or two from the eldest Cyrus performance tonight.”

“Lifesaver,” I groan. “Guess I owe you.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I already owed you, and even if it was time to return the favor, you paid your dues.” He licks his lips, so I get what he’s referring to.

“Ten minutes, you two. Look sharp because cameras are going to be recording us.” With that, he’s taking the pump away and leaving us with a moment of privacy.

I sigh and rest my head back, so I can close my eyes and reel on what just transpired here.

“There’s no going back after this,” I quietly mutter.

“Is this something you’d regret?” I thought Kenzie was asleep, but a peek downward confirms she’s lifting her head enough so she can look my way.

“No.” I’m brutally honest, as always. “I wanted that. This. I’m not good with admitting shit when I’m not dehydrated or tipsy on whisky.”

“But you’re always honest with me,” she acknowledges.

“Yes.” That’s true. “With you only, Andrews.”

“Nurse Andrews,” she corrects.

“Half your uniform is tossed somewhere. I think I can drop the nurse for a second.”

“Shut up,” she groans and punches my chest.

“Ow.”

“You. Me. Cyrus Jr.,” she whispers.

“You,” I begin. “Me.” I kiss the top of her nose. “And Wyatt.” I seal her lips with a slow kiss. “Deal?”

She smirks and rubs her nose against mine.

“Deal.”

“Good.” I’ve never felt more relieved. “Now we have five minutes to look like we didn’t have wild sex after the game.”

“I should always make sure my schedule is clear on game days,” she notes to herself. “You hockey men are fucking horny when you win.”

“Are you complaining?” I ask with an arched brow and a sloppy smirk.

She’s blushing as she pushes off of me to try to stand. “No— AH!”

I’m glad my legs are working because that, matched with my reflexes, helps me catch Andrews before she hits the floor.

“Ugh,” she groans.

“What’s going to happen when we both take you, hmm?”

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