Page 138 of Slap Shot Scandal
Then Weston glances over at me. Our eyes lock across the rink and my pulse stutters.
The crowd’s still on their feet when Weston breaks away from the pack and skates straight toward the bench. My breath hitches as he moves across the ice, never veering.
He skids to a halt in front of the glass, tapping his stick once, twice.
“Get down here,” he mouths, and my entire body burns knowing all eyes are on us.
I race toward the gate, heart slamming against my ribs. Before I even make it to the boards, he’s reaching over and tugging me onto the ice.
“Weston—”
Dropping his stick, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me like he’s been waiting for me his entire life. And he doesn’t care who’s watching.
Rough. Raw. Real.
The arena erupts. A wolf whistle breaks through the noise, loud and unapologetic.
But we keep kissing, no longer caring.
After a long moment, Weston pulls away and presses his forehead to mine.
“Guess the secret’s out,” I whisper, breathless.
He grins down at me. “Good. I want everyone to know you’re mine.” Brushing his thumb lightly across my cheek, he shoots me a wink. “And if anyone has a problem with that, they can take it up with the captain.”
CHAPTER 39
BENNETT
Holy shit.
I never thought I’d see the day Weston went soft. But here it fucking is.
My brother, the grumpy team captain and the most driven, responsible guy on the planet, pulling his PR hottie onto the ice and kissing her under the bright lights of the arena.
Honestly, it’s kinda great.
Almost gives me the warm fuzzies.
If you’re into that kind of lovey-dovey bullshit. Which, for the record, I’m definitely not.
“You two getting a room or something?” I tease, elbowing Weston in the tunnel after the game.
Even though I’m still benched, Coach made me sit next to him the entire game in my freaking suit and tie.
At least we won.
“Go away, Puck Bunny,” he growls out of the corner of his mouth, mid-lip lock with Harbor.
I chuckle, loosening my tie as I sidle down the long tunnel. Back toCall of Dutyand my professional exile until the league decides my fate.
Coach Keller doesn’t think it’ll be too bad—probably only a one or two-game suspension. No biggie.
In the meantime, I’m racking up kills like nobody’s business.
“Bennett. My office.” Prince pounces on me the second I step foot in the hallway.
My muscles tense, but I play it cool, shoving a hand in my pocket.
