Page 75 of Risking the Pucking Defense

Can I make it?

Should I even try?

Before I overthink it, I apologize to the season ticket holders I’m talking to and race across the room, my heart in my throat.

I go as fast as I dare. I really don’t need to be turning any attention my way, and I sure as hell can’t run in these shoes.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t pick up speed the moment I’m out of the ballroom.

I burst through the hotel entrance just in time to see a black Tesla pulling out of the parking lot.

“Shit,” I hiss, my entire body deflating.

I look around, suddenly nervous that someone will have followed me, will have known who I was chasing after.

I walk around the building and lower my ass to a bench and drop my head into my hands.

What was I thinking?

I can’t be running around after a hockey player, let alone a rookie who’s practically ten years younger than me.

None of that mattered when we were trapped in that elevator.

It didn’t matter in his hotel room, or the afternoon in my apartment, either.

When I’m with him, the rest of the world ceases to exist. I’ve never experienced it before. It’s freeing, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t craving it.

I keep telling myself that it’s my imagination, but then I spend more time with him, and I’m reminded that it’s very real.

But that doesn’t mean I should be chasing the high.

I shouldn’t have excused myself from that conversation in there and come running after him.

What was I even hoping for?

To carry on where we left off?

Heat rushes through me.

I kissed him.

Me.

I did that.

I can’t even blame him. He did exactly what he said he’d do. He handed me control and waited for me to make the move.

He listened to me, he understood me, and he allowed me the space to make my own decision. If you can have any space while being trapped inside an elevator with a hockey player.

He took up every inch in there. Not physically, of course. He’s big, but he’s not that big. He was just…everywhere. His scent, his touch, his supportive words, and his reassurance. His understanding.

Fuck. No one has ever listened to what I want, what I need personally, and actually taken it to heart.

At work, I can command the attention of some of the most powerful men in professional sports, but outside of the arena…well, life is very different.

But does it have to be?

Is there someone out there who could take the time to listen, to understand, to give me everything I’ve been convincing myself for years doesn’t exist?