Page 61 of Sweet Pucker

"Oh, come on! It's not like I'm saying anything that's not true. Every odds maker on god's green earth pegged Tampa as the Cup favourites," Holly rolls her eyes.

"Well, it just goes to show that winning the President's Trophy means nothing," Luke preens. "Real hockey starts in April."

"Okay big boy, as long as you put your money where your mouth is, you can keep bragging. I want a parade this June too. Just think of all the publicity and charity potential. SASS would kill it."

Sometimes I swear Holly works in her sleep. She's constantly thinking of potential opportunities to connect the team to the community year-round, even in the off-season. She's the main reason the Northmen are fan favourites again. When a team consistently loses for over fifty years and ruins its image by using social media to catalogue drinking and whoring exploits, the fan base takes a blow.

Thankfully, Holly and I are now in charge of what and when things get sent out for public consumption.

"So, we finally have a night off," Holly smiles, shooting Luke a wink. It's no secret what those two will be doing tonight. "What would you like to do?"

It almost feels weird to have a break between games. The team has a couple days off between series, and they're using it to rest, recuperate, practice, and study their opponent. Tonight is the first night in forever that we have blissfully free.

"Actually," Ryan grins boyishly, and I melt a little. "I was hoping to take Em out tonight."

"Like on a date?" I say, surprised. It's been an eternity since I've been on an actual date. And the nightmare coffee and dinner dates I went on with men who crawled out of the gutter of dating apps don't count.

Ryan and I used to go out on dates all the time. He would surprise me, drive to my house, pick me up, and take me out. Some nights it would be a simple dinner and movie. Other nights we'd go for a beach picnic and walk around the waterfront. Ryan's always had the uncanny ability to take my breath away with his thoughtfulness.

"Yes, on a date."

"Okay," I smile. I must look like a silly lovesick girl, grinning like a fool, but I can't help myself.

This man.

I love him so much, sometimes I even make myself sick with it.

I don't bother asking what we're doing because I know Ryan will tell me it's a surprise. Instead, I push him and Luke out the door, instructing Ryan to pick me up in forty-five minutes.

A girl needs her primping time.

"You're sexy just the way you are," Ryan whispers as he leans in, kissing my cheek, and I shiver. "Dress casual. We're not doing anything fancy tonight, and whatever you put on will definitely come off later." Um, yes, please!

I fill Colton in on our plans, and he agrees to follow behind us at a safe distance, unseen and unobtrusive. In his words, I won't even know he's there.

Holly and I spend the next three-quarters of an hour beautifying. I shower, and then Holly lightly curls my hair because I'm not as lucky as her to have gorgeous, thick, dark waves with just the right amount of curl. My hair is long, blonde, and poker-straight.

I put on some makeup, but just the essentials. Holly and I enjoy beauty products, but we don't glob it on. Just a little blush, a touch of eyeshadow and liner, a wave of mascara, and, of course, a light glossing of lipstick. I've tried watching TikTok makeup tutorials, but as soon as the contouring cream comes out, I lose it. The one and only time I used a contouring stick, I looked like I ate chocolate with every part of my face. I looked like a clown. Never again, unless professionals are involved.

But wearing lipstick has been ingrained in my brain since childhood. As soon as I hit my teens, my mother would invariably say, "You just need a little colour on your lips," as I left the house. Unfortunately, Sandra Avery-Decker's idea of "colour" is hot pink or fuchsia, and I tend to lean towards more natural shades.

I'm not going to lie, sometimes, when my mom insisted I needed "colour on my lips," it grated on my nerves. So, the last time she handed me her lipstick and asked me to put some on, I grabbed the damned thing from her and smeared it all over my lips and face like a crazy person—kind of like a contouring stick, but hot pink. My mom has never commented on my lipstick situation since.

It's mid-April and nice weather outside, so my wardrobe choices have dramatically improved. I love spring. The weather has been uncommonly warm, so I slip on a tennis skirt over a matching bra and thong. Ryan is a thong man. He also loves lace, so I choose a racy black set with sex-kitten red lace trim. The skirt falls just above the knee and shows off my legs.Never skip leg day!On top, I toss on a stretchy tank and throw on a yoga jacket just in case I get cold.

Ryan said casual and flexible. I interpreted that as sporty. I look ready to play a tennis match, although I have only played tennis once—I sucked so badly that I never wanted to try it again. I like the clothing, though. Tennis players always look so cute in their matching athletic outfits.

I work out for a reason. I may as well enjoy the body I sweat my ass off for. Ryan has a weakness for skirts and my legs, so yay me!

When he knocks on the door, I'm flushed, excited, and ready to go. Holly and Luke are having date night at home. In other words, they are going to screw like rabbits.

When I open the door, Ryan is there with a massive grin, and he pulls out a Ziplock bag of sorted Skittles from behind his back. He picked out all the colours I don't like. I feel my smile growing wide as I take him in; from his dark, athletic-fit jeans and Nikes, to his NHLPA hoodie. He always looks good and smells even better.

I roll up on my tippy-toes, draping my arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. It starts out innocent, just lips on lips. When I begin to lower my feet to move away, Ryan swoops his arm around my back to pull me in tighter. He replants his lips firmly on mine, sucking my lower lip.

There goes my lip-gloss.

His tongue tangles with mine, making my entire body hum. Our kiss is a mixture of flavours, my grape-flavoured gloss and the Skittles he's been sneaking from my candy bag. His hands move to my ass and squeeze, pushing me into him. I can feel his hardness against my stomach, making me want to forego the date and head straight to the bedroom. Maybe Holly and Luke have the right idea.

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