Page 32 of Puck Lust

I can put one problem on hold.

Finally, when I give up on sleep altogether, I fling off the covers and roll out of the bed. I stand up, my eyes landing on Carter.

The other problem is still a fucking thorn in my side.

I push my hair back. His muscular legs are tangled in the sheets, his head half covered by the pillow, his arms flung above him. Even in the darkness, I can make out the cuts of muscle that my tongue yearns to trace. My cock jerks and a frustrated sigh makes my shoulders sag.

I bite down on my lower lip. I’ve always wondered how his hair would feel between my fingers, how his skin would feel against mine.

Christ, I’ve wondered so much, it would make his head spin if he knew.

I pad into the bathroom and close the door. Placing both hands on either sides of the cool porcelain sink, I lean forward. My eyes look sunken from lack of rest, face pale except for the splashes of color around my bruises. I drop my head.

Nobody has it all.

And I’m damn lucky to have made it this far as a professional hockey player.

My stomach twists when I think about that email from Coach Dalton, the toxic memories of just how far I had to go to keep myself on solid ground since I basically had nothing besides my talent working for me.

Sometimes, that’s just not enough.

At least, that’s what I was told. And why I made the choices I did.

Did the rest of my lifereallyneed to be a complete and utter shit show?

I turn on the faucet until the water runs ice cold. I splash it on my face and it wakes me up immediately. Probably not my brightest move, since I just killed any chance I have of getting sleep tonight.

Running a hand through my hair, I pull open the bathroom door and walk out. I sink onto the bed and adjust my pillows so I can lean back and stare into the darkness, hoping sleep eventually comes.

My eyes droop closed.

“Tell me about Play It Forward.”

They fly open again and I choke on a gasp.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Carter flips onto his side to face me.

“I thought maybe talking would help you relax.”

I swing my legs around the side of the bed and glare at him. “What makes you think I need to relax?”

He looks at me, his blue eyes glittering in the tiny sliver of light that pokes through the curtain. “You’ve been tossing and turning for hours. I figure it’s because you’ve got too much on your mind to let it rest. And if you don’t get some sleep, you’ll be a mess for the game.”

“My game, my problem.”

“Wrong. It will be everyone’s problem. And as your roommate and teammate, I’m responsible for looking out for you. That’s what we do for one another.” A teasing smirk lifts his lips. “Not that you even really got the concept of teamwork before.”

“Fuck you,” I grumble.

“You’re welcome.” He uses his leg to wind the sheet around his feet and beats the pillow to raise his head up. “So, talk.”

“I don’t want to?—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You don’t want me to stick my nose into your business, blah, blah, blah. But I’m putting aside the past and focusing on the present, taking one for the team. Pun intended.” He pauses. “I spoke to Sam at the bar last night and he was telling me about how you volunteer there. What got you involved? Can’t say I’m not a little shocked. Never knew you cared about anyone other than yourself.”

A knot of anger lodges in my throat until I see the teasing smirk lift Carter’s lips.

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