Page 109 of Off-Ice Misconduct
Oh shit.
I was supposed to text Luke when I was done with brunch. Forgot about that. He must have been losing his damn mind. My phone’s been in my bag on silent. I wasn’t planning on being here this long, but time got away from me. He pulls out a set of hand wraps as I check. Shit. A whole string of messages.
Wolf Daddy
You have to be out of brunch by now.
Where are you?
Ace.
If I find you with tequila in your hand, you’ll never sit again.
Never mind, I’ll find you.
A chill runs through me. Okay, he might be just a little pissed at me for ignoring his texts.
I’d walk into the underworld to retrieve you, princess.
Luke found me.
I study Luke as he wraps his hands with practiced ease and then stares at a black set of gloves lying on top of his bag like they offend him. He puts them on and then he pounds the bag so hard the gym shakes. Dayum. He’s in-fucking-credible. I drink a bunch of water and some of my hydration drink while he beats the shit out of a heavy bag. He’s not just hammering it, either; there’s real technique there. I’m just a hockey goon. We have away we fight that’s akin to clobbering, but Luke’s got the finesse of a fighter.
Precise, controlled. A different kind of dangerous. The kind that makes your knees buckle.
Man, I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know anything about my friends, and my dad doesn’t know a thing about me. I need to punch the bag again.
“You gonna let me in, Professor? Or you gonna hog it for the rest of the night?” My body aches, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to swing another punch.
He pauses, sweat dripping, lungs heaving. “C’mere, princess,” he says softly. “I wanna see your hands first.”
Princess.I melt a little. Guess he’s devised that we’re alone. My lack of protest surprises me. If I’m honest, I’m yearning to be stopped … or something. I dunno. I’m yearning, period, and I don’t know what I need to fix it.
Fix it, Luke.
“You fight like a goon,” he says after his assessment.
“Iama goon,” I shoot back, proud and offended.
He shakes his head. “No more heavy bag for you.”
“Says the guy with no skin on his knuckles.”
“I used gloves,” he says, holding one up like it’s Exhibit A. “And I don’t give a fuck if I’m a hypocrite. Now, do you wanna learn something or not?”
He’s fucking adorable when he looks after me in the bossiest way imaginable.
“Okay.”
We move over to the mats and kick off our shoes. He ditches the gloves.
“Stand more like this, a staggered stance, and keep moving. I’ll block only, no punches.”
“You’re gonna let me punch you?”
“You can try.” He smirks.
“You arrogant sonuva bitch.”
