Page 96 of The Puckable Playbook

“He must’ve told you.”

“I don’t know. He’s always trying to get the best out of me, but it’s another thing altogether to have him on my side.”

She squeals again, throwing herself around my torso until her legs are wrapped around my hips, her phone falling, forgotten, to the floor. “I got something else, too.”

I cock my head, and she instructs me to take her to bed. My brows rise, but it becomes clear quickly that she didn’t mean itlike that. As soon as I sit on the bed, she leans over, reaching underneath. I grab her hips to steady her.

“This is heavier than I remembered,” she grunts, but finally, she heaves a box up and holds it between us. “I checked and neither of our laptops were powerful enough for video editing software, so I bought this.”

She nudges it toward me, and my brain finally clicks. “You bought a laptop?”

“She’s a big one. She has sexy RAM, breathtaking graphics, and the screen is…” She makes an exaggerated kiss noise and smiles. “Big Bertha has everything we need to splice together a package for you.”

“And you think you hate hockey.”

I move the laptop to the bed, and she leans into me. “It’s not about hockey. It’s about you.”

I hook my hands under her thighs to pull her close, tugging her down so I can kiss her. Her lips melt against mine, and I eat her up before rolling her onto the bed. “This means everything to me. Thank you.”

She locks her legs behind my ass. “I have a good feeling.” She works her fingertips through the hair above my ear. “The scouts won’t come to you, but you can go to the scouts. We’ll make people see.”

I take a deep breath, and it shudders out of me like an exhausted engine. A heavy feeling remains, sitting on my chest.

“What?” she asks.

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Zaiah, the only way you’ll disappoint me is if you don’t try. You can’t tell me you want to make hockey your life, then sit back and not do anything about it. I do have my dad’s genes in me. For better or for worse.”

“I… What if I fail?”

“What’s that meme? ‘Oh, but darling, what if you don’t?’”

What if I don’t?

I lean down, capturing her lips with mine. I’ve hit the lottery with her. Someone who pushes me to be better. Someone who believes in me and supports me.

The kiss turns from sweet to insistent.

I rock my hard length into her, and she breaks the seal of our lips to moan. Reaching my hands between us, I make quick work of her shorts. First, unbuttoning, and then leaning back so I can slide them past her knees and off. I kiss a trail down her neck, licking her collarbone and then the swell of her breast. Her chest heaves. The lace leaves nothing to the imagination, her nipple poking against the detailed fabric. I wrap my mouth around it, flicking my tongue over the bud.

“Zaiah.” Her hips move against mine and then she stops, nudging her panties down.

I shove my joggers down next, just enough to free my dick. I need her so fucking bad.

I arch into her. Her soft, yielding flesh giving way to me. She’s wet already, and that only makes me harder, more fervent.

“I need you,” I breathe, finding her entrance.

She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off by sliding inside her in one long stroke. Her unspoken words turn into a cry that whips through her entire body.

“Jesus,” she sighs once I’m fully seated. Reaching down, she traces her fingertips across my backside before staring up at me. “Then you better take me.”

I prop myself up, pistoning into her with a force we haven’t tried before. Her eyes fly open, pleasure sizzling there, egging me on.

She meets my strokes with her hips until we’re fucking. There’s no other way to explain it. This isn’t two people making love, this is two people trusting one another enough to let it all out, showing our raw wants and desire.

Luckily, we were adult enough to have had the birth control and the clean talk. I had myself tested after Trish, just in case, and Len hadn’t been with anyone in a while, so coming together like this—skin on skin—is stress-free.

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