Page 42 of Puck Me Twice

Sven rushes to a stop in front of the boards, dropping his gloves to the ice. I step forward and he cages me in, his hands on either side of mine. His eyes are wild.

“You?” he growls. “And Whitney?”

There’s a faint murmur behind me. I don’t know if it’s Joaquin or one of the coaches.

I shake my head. “Wyatt’s not... you know we’re not…”

“You’re mine,” Sven says, his voice low. His hands settle on my hips, pulling me as close as we can get with the boards in the way. The metal ledge is digging into my belly, but I can’t care, because it’s keeping me from him.

I swallow.

“Say it,” he says. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I whisper.

Ducking his head, he takes my mouth in a rough kiss. There’s nothing sweet or gentle; he attacks my lips, nipping at me. I melt and he draws me closer, half holding me up against the boards as he sweeps his tongue into my mouth.

There’s a wolf whistle from behind him. Slowly, Sven pulls away, his eyes glazed.

Grabbing the front of his jersey, I pull him back to me, sliding an arm around his neck to keep him close. His hand dives into my hair, twisting the strands around his fist.

There’s a spray of ice, and he jerks back to glare at the interloper.

MacGregor grins, unrepentant. “You realize the broadcast already started, right?”

“So?” He grunts.

“The whole country just saw that kiss. Not the time or place, bud.” He claps a hand on Sven’s shoulder. “Happy for you two. Would be happier if we got the W tonight, though.”

fifteen

. . .

Sven

We get the win. I score two goals and earn an assist on a third.

“Damn, Larsson,” Coach Turner says as the clock winds down to the final buzzer. “That’s all it took?”

I’ve been on fire all game. My blood is boiling and my heart is hammering, and it’s not from the usual game-time adrenaline.

Vanessa is up in the box. I didn’t see her during the two intermissions, laser-focused on the game.

The guys were buzzing, though. Our pre-game kiss was the talk of the arena—and if MacGregor is to be believed, it’s headline news.

In the showers, the guys keep trying to tease me, but I keep my head down and focus on getting clean. I’m wrapping a towel around my waist when the locker room door opens and Vanessa, Angelica, and Patrice come inside.

The room gets quiet—quick.

Someone shoves me forward, and I stumble, windmilling my arms. I stop in front of her.

“Hi,” Vanessa says, her face red. She tucks some hair behind her ears.

I swallow. “Hi.”

“So I guess everyone knows now,” she says.

“Yeah.”