Page 41 of Puck Me Twice

“She can take care of herself.” She’s close to thirty and working on a doctorate degree. She’s a functional adult.

“She’s my baby sister,” he says. “I worry about her.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do, though.” Wyatt sighs. “I’ve got to go.”

He ducks down and kisses me on the cheek, then pats me on the head like a child.

The guys continue to warm up, and I watch as Sven shoots an absolute laser at the goal. Lewis doesn’t attempt to block it—he lets the missile fly by him.

“Let’s try not to decapitate our goalie, thanks,” Coach Turner calls.

“What’s up his ass?” Joaquin mutters.

“No clue,” I say, but something skates across my brain, scratching a spot that whispers he didn’t like Wyatt’s attention on me.

I shrug it off because I’ve barely seen him all day. It’s been a busy time—I’ve barely had enough time to breathe. From the time we touched down in Philly last night, and I crashed into bed the second my hotel room door closed, to waking up this morning, it’s been go-go-go.

I don’t know that I’m cut out for a life on the road.

Or, maybe, I just need to take a pre-game nap like the athletes.

With the athletes?

Well, with one athlete in particular.

Sven is big and imposing in his gear. The skates make him even taller, and the pads broaden his big chest, and when his eyes lock on mine from across the ice… my heart goes pitter-pat, and my pussy clenches around emptiness.

It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten laid. Even though I’m capable of taking care of any physical needs on my own, I do miss the physical intimacy of having a partner. Being held. Sleeping beside someone. Spending a leisurely morning naked in bed.

Lying in his bed, curled up in the circle of his arms… it was like all my thoughts and fears went away. I wasn’t tired from the early wake-up call, and my feet didn’t hurt from running around all day, and I wasn’t worried about ten thousand possibilities of “what if.”

I could just breathe.

Barely paying attention to the movie he put on last night, I was more preoccupied by the warmth of his bare chest against my back, and his strong hand rubbing my arm, and the spicy fresh scent of his soap.

I like him.

I knew he was attractive. I knew he was a nice guy.

But I wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for my fake boyfriend.

The first night of this trip, the only thing I wanted to do was be with him. A few of the guys had invited me to the bar. Patrice and Angelica went out with some friends in town.

And me? All I’d wanted was to see Sven, talk to him, cuddle with him, and just… exist in his space. I wanted him.

Fuck. I think I want this to be more than it is.

Blowing out a breath, I rub at my forehead. This is confusing. Feelings are confusing. Why do I have to feel this? I just want⁠—

Him.

I want him.

With perfect clarity, I know it as well as I know my name.

How did it take me so long to see it?