Page 35 of Puck, Marry, Kill

I want to kiss this woman more than I want to breathe. Hell, I want to kiss her more than I want to play hockey, and that’s my entire purpose for living. But this needs to be her move. She hasn’t had the chance to be in charge of her life in a long time, maybe ever. And she should. She deserves that opportunity.

I don’t want to fuck this up. Not for me, but for her. I’m almost scared to ruin the progress she’s making toward her own freedom. I’m not a man who usually sits back and lets things happen to me. But in this, I need to be. For her.

So I slow the internal drum of my heartbeat that chantskiss her, kiss her, kiss herand instead, enjoy the close-up view of her eyes, noting that they’re not simply blue, but there are flecks of brown at the centers. I let my body burn with the need to touch her, and focus on the way her breathing has sped up. I wait for her, soaking up her nearness and staying present in the moment, as if there’s anywhere else I’d rather be than this close to Briar.

Closer?

Okay, that’s fair. I’d love to be even closer to her, curled around her, protecting her from everything bad in the world until all she knows is good, and I’d love to be inside her, both her body and beyond her walls. I tell my aching cock that the delayed gratification will be worth the pain and pray that I’m right.

“Should I start flapping my wings or making bird noises to court you?” I say lowly.

She presses her lips together, fighting back a laugh. “You’d do that?”

“Ca-cawww,” I say with the utmost sincerity.

Her eyes twinkle. Her lips part. And slower than a sloth, she lifts her lips to mine.

I don’t dive into her the way I’d like to, which is completely and passionately. I let her set the pace, willing myself to give her what she needs, not take what I want. And her lack of urgency feeds something unexpected in me too. I relish the softness of her lips, savor the press of her freed hands on my chest, cherish the moment she opens her mouth to deepen the kiss.

I celebrate Briar Johns finding herself again and feel like the luckiest fucker in the world for getting to not only witness this moment, but be a part of it.

Chapter 12

Briar

“What can I help you with?”

My nose crinkles at Dad’s tone. “Can’t a girl just call her father without wanting something?”

“Some girls, yes. You, no.” He says it so matter-of-factly that there’s no sense in arguing. He’s right. We don’t have the type of relationship where I call him for fun catch-up chat sessions. Of course, I don’t call to ask for favors, either, but here we are. “Plus, it’s season opener week, Briar. So again, what can I do for you?”

I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I warned Dominic as much. Dad’s singular focus on hockey still pricks, though. But this isn’t about me. It’s about Dominic and the team.

Don’t lie to yourself! You know dang good and well it’s mostly about Dominic.

It is and there’s no sense in pretending it’s not. I’d already decided to help him, but after that kiss? I was ready to plead with my father to let Dominic be the new captain, coach, boss, or whatever else he wants to be. Reason did eventually return ... slightly ... but I still feel like Dominic’s desire to enact some positive change for the Blizzard is a good cause.

“I have an idea, but I need your help.”

“There it is,” he chuckles as I prove his point.

“It’ll be good for the team too,” I rush to add, knowing that it’s the only way to pique his interest.

“I’m listening.” He probably is, but I can also hear him typing in the background, multitasking something hockey related I’m sure and unable to give his only daughter a few minutes of his precious time.

“We have an event coming up at the zoo next month. It’s a party of sorts to celebrate the birth of the new gibbon and raise funds for—”

“How much?”

“What?” I say in confusion. But then I sigh, not surprised he instantly latched on to the financial aspect. “I don’t want a donation. I want a few players.”

It’s his turn to be confused. “What?”

“I want a few Blizzard players to make an appearance at the party as a way of drawing interest to the event. They don’t have to do anything other than be social and take a few pictures with attendees. It’d be great PR for the team too.”

“We’re a little busy with games,” he says, making it sound like I’m unaware of the time commitment being a hockey player (or coach) requires. Believe me, I know how much time it takes. And what that time costs in relationships.

“I already checked the schedule. The party is on October 25, which happens to be a no-game weekend for you. And you’re at home the next game, so no travel schedule either. I’ve thought of everything.”