Page 66 of Cheap Shot
My hands slide under the hem of his shirt, greedily mapping the lines of his back, damp and burning beneath my palms. He groans into the kiss, hips pushing forward, the pressure between us electric and undeniable.
“I think I do now.”
He presses his hips against mine again, and I feel it—every hard line, every unspoken thing. My fingers find the hem of his shirt and push up, palms sliding over slick skin and tracing the taut muscles beneath.
“You make one more sound like that,” he growls, burying his face into my neck like he might lose control if he looks at me, his lips brushing my collarbone, “and I swear to God?—”
Then, a knock. Afreakingloud, jarring knock echoes through the tiny space.
“Hey—uh, Doc?” Sammy’s voice slices through the haze, sounding sheepish and unfortunatelyreal. “You left your tablet. It's… making noises?”
Cole goes completely still. His body is still flush against mine, but his head drops forward, forehead pressing into my shoulder like he’smourningour interrupted moment.
“I swear to God,” he growls, sounding dangerously close to homicidal. “That kid has a death wish.”
I snort, breathless and boneless and vaguely lightheaded. “How did you find us, anyway?”
“I followed the noises,” he responds matter-of-factly, causing my cheeks to heat in embarrassment.
“We need to get back in there before someone notices we’re missing.”
“You go first. I’m going to need a minute.” His mouth brushes my ear, teasing and dark. “But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
“Didn’t think it was.” I push my fingers through his hair and gently tug before untangling myself from his arms and peeking out the door.
Thankfully, Sammy went back to the training room instead of waiting for us to emerge from our hiding spot.
ChapterSeventeen
Cole
“How’s my baby boy doing this morning?” Momma smiles at me before handing me a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, sausage, and some fancy-looking piece of bread.
“I’m not your baby boy, Momma. Kyle is,” I respond, planting a kiss on her cheek and turning toward the table.
Momma has gotten up before the sun every day since I started training camp, making me breakfast and wanting to chat with me about what’s going on. I was worried she’d be afraid to have me around after my outburst a few weeks ago, but Beau was right. She’s just happy to have me home. But please, for the love of God, don’t let him know I thought that he’d never let me hear the end of it. It might also have something to do with my outbursts being few and far between and mostly confined to the hockey rink. There are more than a few of the rookies with busted noses and extra bruises when they leave the rink.
“You will always be one of my baby boys. Get used to it.” Momma takes a seat at the table across from me as I shake some pills, one red and two white, into my hand before popping them into my mouth. “Still in pain?”
I force a smile before shoving the bottle back into my pocket. Serves me right for taking them in front of her. I fucking know better. “A little. I haven’t been taking them as much recently, but I’m due for some strength training again today before I hit the ice. The trainers call it prophylactic pain management.”
I hate lying to Momma, but I can’t let her know the truth. The fact that I need these pills to function. I’m barely keeping my cool these days, the rage boiling out of control more often than not. Not to mention the pain in my shoulder that never seems to go away. The doctor warned that this could happen if I pushed myself, but what other choice do I have? I need to be ready for the start of the season to prove to everyone it wasn’t a mistake to bring me onto the team. That I’m more than just Cooper Hendrix’s little brother, but a damn talented hockey player and an asset to this team.
Momma eyes me skeptically over the rim of her coffee mug, “That just sounds like a bunch of fancy words to me.”
“That’s because It is.” I chuckle, although I know I’m completely full of shit. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to explain my pill popping to someone else. “Basically, it's a way to prevent pain before it becomes a problem.”
“So, they have you take pain medication before you are in pain, to stop yourself from being in pain after training?”
I pick up my fork and shove some eggs into my mouth, hoping to end the conversation before she asks any more questions. “Basically.”
“You weren’t raised in a barn, Cole. Stop talking with your mouth full.” She waggles her finger at me as I give her a mock salute.
Momma has always been a stickler for manners, whether it be something as simple as not talking with our mouths full or swearing. Nothing is too small. It’s too bad she hasn’t figured out that we use those things against her more often than not. Did I need to shove food into my mouth right at that moment? Hell no, but did I do it to avoid having to answer any more questions? I sure did.
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” She shakes her head, pushing back from the table and grabbing a glass from the cabinet. “That makes more sense.”
I don’t respond, choosing to focus on the food in front of me. I can hear her shuffling around the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab something, but I don’t look up. I don’t want her to see the guilt I feel written all over my face.
