Page 262 of Playing the Pucking Game
My hand lifts for the buckle on hers, too desperate to kiss her, to celebrate her success, to think about where we are and who could be watching.
I’m about to pull it free when Parker panics.
“No,” she cries, reaching for the helmet she’s borrowed and holding it tight. “Not here.”
Anxiety is etched into every inch of her face. I push away from the boards, putting some space between us.
I feel like an asshole, but I was just so excited.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t think.”
“It’s okay,” she assures me, but it’s not. I’ve made her promises, promises that I’m desperate to keep, and kissing her out here where anyone could see isn’t doing that.
“I’ll do better. I’ll?—”
“Stop, Linc. It’s okay. That was…” Something wicked flashes in her eyes. “The most exhilarating thing I’ve done in quite some time.”
I frown. “Is that right?”
“Yep,” she says, popping the P.
“Well, I’d better up my game then, if scoring a goal is the biggest rush you’ve had recently.”
“You said it, not me,” she states before pushing from the boards and skating past me. “Uh…where did everyone go?”
I spin around and find the ice deserted, apart from her.
“Uh…” I shake my head, a smile ghosting across my lips.
I fucking love my teammates.
“I think maybe they were giving us some space,” I explain.
“What were they expecting us to do? Start fucking like rabbits in the middle of the rink?”
“I mean…I can think of worse ways to spend my evening.”
“I’d rather avoid freezer burn on my ass, thank you very much.”
“I’m sure we could figure out a position.”
Image after image of us entwined a few feet from where we’re standing right now fill my mind. Hell, I could even take her over the goal.
“Lincoln Storm, stop it. Stop it right now.”
“What?” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m not doing anything.”
Parker shakes her head and skates toward the gate. “We should probably head out,” she says over her shoulder.
“Is that your way of suggesting I sneak you into the locker room?”
“Are you kidding? I know how bad it smells in there. And you’ve been in that gear for hours.”
“Aw, you know you want to. You can’t tell me that you don’t have a fantasy of being taken in the locker room.”
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” she teases.
“You totally do. And one day, I’ll make it happen for you, babe.”
