Page 17 of One Shot

Half an hour later, I finish my notes from Ty’s interview and head to the locker room. Lucas is bench pressing a bar loaded with what seems to like every weight plate in the gym. Counting the plates, my eyes widen. He’s casually lifting more than twice my weight.

Delicious beads of sweat drip down his bare, hairless chest as he places the bar back down. He was barely wearing a shirt before so why did he need to take it off? He stands up, and his grey sweatpants shift, catching my attention. His bulge is clearly visible, leaving very little to my imagination but, there is absolutely nothing little about it . . .

Lucas Donato, I hate how you take my mind off everything else.

“Hi, Laur.” Lucas is a little breathless as he towels off his dripping face and shoulders before walking over to me.

Shit, I’m a little breathless myself as my eyes scan his body. I am getting much more than a glimpse of that glorious V. There is no way in hell all the players look like that. Greek God is a perfect description for him. It’s like his torso is made of stone, each ab chiseled to perfection. I notice a little happy trail at the bottom of his V, leading to what I’m sure would be a very, very happy place.

“Ready for me?”

You have no idea how ready and willing I am.My cheeks grow hot as my lady bits start to hum with desire. I want to be the one who sees where that happy trail goes to.

“Laur?”

“Y-yes,” I stammer, attempting to reel in my promiscuous thoughts as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head.

What is wrong with me. I’m never this distracted by someone. I can’t be distracted by him; I don’t want to get involved with anyone. Swearing off love is the right choice for me.

“I’m going to grab some caffeine. I’ll meet you there. The room is across the hall, turn right coming out of the gym, second door on the left.” I quickly exit the gym before he can say anything else.

I immediately dart into the bathroom, thanking God it’s a one-person washroom and look at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed. Have I always blushed this much? I swear I didn’t use to, but then again, I’m not very used to looking at a man and instantly wanting to jump his bones right then and there. I splash some cold water on my face. That does very little to calm me down. I’m going to have to be around him all season. I need to get through this interview with a clear head and focus.

My chest rises and falls rapidly with my quickened breath fueled by sexual chemistry and longing. It’s so out of character for me to even be considering this . . . but my lady bits are now singing with desire and need as my mind revisits the image of the outline of his cock in those thin pants. I tell myself it’s just to ensure that I get a great interview and not be distracted by thinking about seeing more of him.

If I sat on his lap fully clothed, straddling him, my leggings and his thin sweats would hardly be a barrier to him hardening against me. There would be no stopping him from feeling my pussy dampen against his growing erection just for me.

This man drives my mind and body into overdrive, just from witnessing him shirtless. Watching the sweat drip down his torso in the weight room sent me into a frenzy wanting to be that bead of sweat,intimately grazing every curve of his sculpted torso continually moving south.

The lust is too much to bear. I willingly succumb to it. Pretending that his rough calloused hands are on me, I insert two fingers into myself.

Chapterten

Lucas

She’s taking a while to come back to interview me. Is she even still here? She seemed very flustered when she came to the gym to get me. She was frantic and fast with her words, but it seemed like she was barely registering anything I was saying to her. Her mind was clearly elsewhere. Why does Lauren hate me so much? I have to figure out why. I want more time to get to know her. It’s a stupid idea but seeing her from behind walking out of the gym today, and the way she holds her own, I just want to know her. I’ll have to have someone rig the Beer Olympics for me, so she’s forced to be on my team and spend time with me outside of the rink.

A different version of Lauren walks through the door. Her previously frantic manner has turned calm and she’s lighter, almost as if she’s walking on air. She’s almost glowing.

“About time, Bellinger,” I say.

She stares at me with a dumbfound, blank expression before it registers with me that she heard Nick’s teammates call him Bellinger her entire life.

“Sorry, I mean Laur, Lauren.”

If I’m being honest, I’m nervous. It’s not about being interviewed. It’s because I want to make sure I sound interesting in front of Laur. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m some stereotypical jock without a heart. For some reason, what Laur thinks about me matters to me a lot more than what gets printed in any articles or posted online.

Lauren starts off by asking me what made me want to play hockey and how I got started. I relax into my chair; this is the easiest question she could start off with. Good.

“My family loves hockey. I remember a game always being on TV whenever we had any type of family gathering. My dad and uncles always placed what they called the rivalry bet. All four of them have different NHL and college teams they support. When I was growing up, they were always betting on games against their teams, which meant there was a lot of ‘Lucas, put on your earmuffs’ from my mom when they got frustrated and swore.”

I laugh reminiscing about being seven and hearing my dad cuss out his oldest brother because my dad always rooted for Chicago even though they were terrible back then.

Laur is laughing too. “It seems like you are really close with your family,” she says.

“Oh yeah, all of my extended family. I’m the youngest of all my cousins by about six years, so I was the only one who got told to put earmuffs on, even though I usually only did until my mom left the room. Sometimes the men in my family can be sore losers. My dad was losing a lot on those rivalry bets when the Blackhawks were on a losing streak. I grew up watching all twelve of my cousins play hockey. I would beg my mom to go watch them play. It fascinated me, mostly because of the ice-skating aspect. It might sound dumb, but when you think about it, every sport outside of hockey involves running, which anyone can do. Can anyone run fast? No, but everyone can run. Not everyone can skate.”

Laur leans in closer to me in her chair, her intoxicating blue eyes eagerly telling me to keep going.

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