Page 11 of Puck Lust

My skin prickles, a chill shooting down my spine. I shrug it off, glaring down at my helmet. I grab it and hurl it against the wall of lockers.

It doesn’t make me feel any better.

I’d rather have hurled it at Jack’s gorgeous face instead.

Tonight, he showed everyone on the planet what I already know from experience.

Jack Larson is a self-absorbed bastard who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.

How the hell could Enver bring him out here? Years later, and he’s still the same fucking guy. Individual players don’t win Stanley Cups. You need a team effort. And everyone needs to have heart.

He might have won a Cup with New York, but the Raptorshave more heart in the tip of a hockey stick than Jack has in his whole body.

A championship can’t be just about him, and that’s the only way Jack Larson operates. He puts himself on a pedestal and everyone around him is a prop.

My ringtone blares out from inside of my locker.

I pull it open and fish my phone out of my bag.

Masterson.

I click to answer the call but he doesn’t even let me speak. “How much longer are you gonna torment yourself with punishment pushups?” he asks with a chuckle.

Seems like news of my ritual as followed me from Washington.

But tonight, pushups were the last thing on my mind.

“Punishment is over. I’m heading into the showers now.” My face relaxes into a smile. “Where’d you guys go?”

“The Penalty Box, bro. Get your ass over here, okay? This isourritual.” The noise in the background tells me there are lots of people swarming.

Christ, socializing is the last thing I want to do right now but I’m the new guy. And like I said, we win together and we lose together. And either way, I guess we drink together.

“I’ll see you in half an hour.”

I toss the phone back in my locker, peel off the rest of my uniform and gear and walk into the back where the showers are.

My brow furrows when I hear running water.

That’s weird. I figured I was alone since there’s no sign of anyone else being here. And from the noise surrounding Masterson, I’d swear everyone on the team is already at the bar, drowning their sorrows.

I pad over the cool tile floor and stretch my armsoverhead, wincing when my back cracks. Shit, I really could use a rub down?—

My brain chokes on the thought before I can finish it and I stop short in the darkened enclosure.

Jack stands under the spray at the far corner of the space, his back to me. Soapy water spills over the cuts of muscle on this back, ass, and legs. My breath catches. I can’t look away. I’m suddenly back in our room at camp, panic flaring in my chest at the rush of sensations that coursed through me.

Seeing Jack like this just ripped the lid right off Pandora’s box.

With a throbbing pulse, I rake a hand through my hair, my leg muscles tensing with the need to flee the room before I’m completely exposed.

Everything I kept hidden away is now back to haunt me.

Like the way he smelled.

The way his lips tasted.

The lies I told everyone afterward because I couldn’t face the truth staring me in the face.

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