Page 40 of Defensive Desire

Or maybe it’s just me.

Coach’s whistle pierces through the arena, sharp and pissed off like always. “Kane! Where the hell is your head today?”

I grunt and circle back into the drill, forcing my focus on the puck. I can feel his glare burning a hole in the back of my head.

The guys are weaving in and out of cones, passing the puck with professional accuracy. Except me. I keep fumbling it like a goddamn rookie, my stick handling sloppy, my timing off.

I barely notice when the puck skips over my blade again, ricocheting off the boards with a loud clatter.

Coach Brody blows the whistle again, and I know it’s directed at me.Fuck.

I can hear Ryder snickering before he even skates up to me. “You’ve been staring at nothing for ten minutes. Did a certain coffee shop owner give you decaf this morning?”

I level a glare at him, which should be enough to shut him up. But Ryder’s like a goddamn terrier… once he’s latched onto something, he doesn’t let go.

He skates backward in front of me, not even bothering to follow the drill anymore. I shove past him, ignoring his laugh. But my shoulders are tense, jaw clenched so tight it aches.

Since when does one kiss turn me into a distracted mess?

Since Emma Carter pressed her lips against mine, tasted like vanilla and something so fucking sweet I can't wait to do it again.

Connor slides in next to me, sending Ryder a glare as Coach sets up the next drill.

“Leave him alone,” he mutters. Then, quieter, to me, “You good, man?”

I grunt. Which I guess could be interpreted as a yes or a no. Connor seems to take it as both.

But it’s not just practice that’s off. It’s me.

My head’s stuck on a loop of last night. All of it.

The way Emma laughed as we talked, how her eyes lit up when I talked about Finland. How she looked at me like she was seeing something more than just the brutal enforcer everyone else sees.

My mind’s still there. Stuck in that moment when she looked up at me, lips swollen from my kiss, snow catching in her hair.

“Kane!” Coach's voice snaps me back to the rink.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. Coach’s arms are crossed, face a thundercloud.

Next drill starts, and I line up next to Connor. He bumps my shoulder lightly, giving me a reassuring nod.

Ryder skates by, smirking. “Must be some good coffee if it’s got you hitting like a rookie.”

“Shut up before I rearrange your face,” I mutter.

But even in the next drill, my thoughts go right back to Emma. How she whispered goodnight like she didn’t want to let me go.How she looked in that sweater,mysweater… the one that's way too big on her and wraps her sexy fucking body in my smell.

Jesus, I’m pathetic.

Coach finally blows the whistle to end practice, barking something about focus and commitment before stomping off the ice.

The guys start peeling away, stretching out and chatting about post-practice plans today.

My legs feel heavy as I skate to the bench, tugging off my gloves and swiping sweat from my forehead. I can hear the guys still talking, laughing about the morning drills.

I’m not part of it. Don’t want to be today.

My mind’s still in that moment outside Chapter & Grind. How close I came to saying something stupid. Something like, “Let's go inside.”

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