Page 41 of Slap Shot Scandal
WESTON
After being stuck in the elevator with Harbor yesterday, I need to cool down. So naturally I immediately schedule solo practice time on the ice.
I have to regroup, get my head on straight.
Because being that close to Harbor—trapped in the dark, her body smashed up against mine—unlocked something inside me. Something I thought was broken forever.
Desire.
And it couldn’t be happening at a worse fucking time.
I’ve had my eyes on the puck since I got drafted into the pros. I’m singularly focused, every fiber of my being locked in on hockey.
Hockey, hockey, and more hockey.
This game is everything to me.
Well, at least it was until yesterday.
Now all I’m thinking about is the tiny blonde making my heart race faster than a breakaway. Those wide, hazel eyes with the thick fringe of lashes, staring straight into mysoul. The way she gnaws at her full bottom lip when she’s deep in thought, the slightly sweet scent of her perfume mixed with sunscreen drifting from her skin.
Dammit.
Just thinking about her has my dick hard and it’s not even light outside yet. Hopefully, an early morning practice will help me sort things out before I see her again. I need to have my game face on for our meeting at Shoreline Coffee later today. Not acting like some simp looking to get laid.
I skate onto the ice, rolling my shoulders back. Trying to get into the proper mindset and forget about Harbor.
Easier said than done.
I drop down into my hip stretch, the coldness of the ice leaching through the gloves.
Thrust, stretch, thrust, stretch.
Everything that’s happened in the last couple of weeks swirls through my mind. Coach Evans’s betrayal. Saying goodbye to Manhattan. Flying down here on the team jet. Harbor hanging onto me for dear life when we hit turbulence, her chest flushing. The way she gazed up at me, pupils dilated.
Aroused.
Purely a sympathetic nervous system response to almost crashing, but I bet that’s what she looks like after she comes.
Damn, Steele.Way to take it there.
But I can’t help it. There’s something about her—the fire in her eyes, those snappy retorts, the push-pull thing we have going. All of it combined has me unbalanced, off my game.
I move from stretches to easy skating, warming up mymuscles. Gliding side to side, the sluicing of the blade loud and rhythmic in the empty space.
In a trance, I skate up and down the ice, my breathing even and controlled.
Not like it would be if Harbor was under me right now.
Her round breasts bared to me, nipples rosy and diamond-sharp. I’d suck each one hard until she moaned my name, begging me to fuck her.
I lower my head and pick up speed. Getting into a quicker pace, ice flying around the blades of my skates.
Please, Weston. Please fuck me.
I’d tease her, sliding my fingers into her hot, wet pussy. Working her until her body bowed to me. Arching up and wanting more.
So much more.
