Page 133 of Playing the Pucking Game
I barely get any sleep.After jerking off in the shower to the thought of peeling those leggings from her body and feasting on her until she could no longer scream my name—very friendly thoughts—I spent a few hours researching for our whirlwind visit of NYC. By the time I slipped under the sheets, my body was exhausted, and my brain was spinning.
I got a few hours, but when my alarm goes off the next morning, it’s nowhere near enough.
With swollen eyes, I drag my ass out of bed, freshen up, get dressed, and throw some clean underwear into my permanently packed suitcase then head out in need of coffee.
I make two shots for Parker’s iced coffee first before putting it in the freezer to cool down as fast as possible, then I make mine.
By the time she emerges from her room twenty minutes later, her coffee is chilled and ready for her. So is a bacon and cheese bagel.
“What’s all this?” she asks, looking at it with wide eyes.
It’s a far cry from the other mornings we’ve had since she moved in. But this is so much nicer than hiding from each other.
“Breakfast.”
“Y-yeah, I can see that.”
“So why are you asking? Iced coffee and a bagel. Is that everything?” I ask, nodding to the suitcase and bag sitting on top of it.
“Yep. Managed to drop a size from the last trip.”
“You’re learning,” I tease. “Now grab your breakfast, and let’s move.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve already eaten mine. You can enjoy yours as my passenger princess.”
“Princess, you say?” she asks as she lifts the travel mug from the side, quickly followed by the wrapped bagel.
“Come on, Donnelly, before I change my mind.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Want to test the theory?”
Apparently, she doesn’t, because she hurries after me as I maneuver all our luggage into the elevator.
“I could get used to this,” she muses as I struggle with everything and she sips her coffee.
“You always have been a bit of a princess,” I deadpan, making her roll her eyes at me.
The ride to the arena is relaxed. The awkwardness that surrounded us whenever we were in close proximity last week has been banished. Instead, it’s easy, relaxed, with just a little crackle of chemistry. It’s something I’ve become completely addicted to over the years. If it ever disappeared, I’m not sure what I’d do.
“Shut up,” she snaps, but there’s no real bite behind it.
I have the best morning I’ve had all week. Thanks to Parker, I’m practically pain-free and back to being at the top of my game, hence our last few wins.
As we move around the rink, I’m achingly aware of her standing at the boards, watching us closely with her iPad in hand. I know she’s working. She’s studying our bodies andmovements for signs of injuries and weaknesses, but that doesn’t stop my blood from simmering just beneath boiling point.
“What’s with the smile?” Fletch asks when he comes to a stop beside me when we pause for a drink.
“Nothing. Just happy.”
“Why do I get the impression it’s not because you beat both me and Handsy last night?”
“Fuck, that was good.”
“Not as good as Monroe.”
