Page 55 of Zero Pucks Given
“Not until you apologize, pussycat.”
“I don’t apologize to people who call me that.”
“Then I guess we’re going to sit here a while. I know youlovethe cold, so I bet the ice on your back feels great.”
She stuck out her tongue at me, and I smiled in victory.
But I remembered how good that tongue had felt when it was dancing with mine, our lips churning together hungrily. God she was beautiful. Even the way she was pouting right now filled me with a dozen different emotions.
Every instinct in my body told me to do it. Those lips werebeggingto be kissed, and her eyes were wide and expectant.
But then I remembered Manny and the videographer up in the stands. We weren’t alone. Everything we did was being recorded andwould be viewed by at least a dozen people in the marketing department.
Nothing killed my erection faster than the thought of Bob smugly lecturing me about my contractual obligations.
I pulled her off the ice until we were both standing. “That’s a good start. Now let’s see how you do with a hockey stick.”
I skated back to the bench before she could see how red my cheeks were.
27
Josie
Grayson was all business after the moment we shared on the ice, focusing on showing me how to hold a hockey stick and the best way to maneuver it while skating around the rink.
But I could still feel his fingers wrapped around my wrists, pinning my arms to the side and smiling down at me.
I hated feeling helpless. I loathed those women who wanted a big strong man to take care of them and make them feel protected. It was all so damnstereotypical.
My lady parts were practicallysingingwhile he was on top of me, though. If he had made a move, I would have let him rip my clothes off and fuck me right there on the ice, even though the camera dudes were watching from the stands.
Fortunately, trying to maintain my balance in a pair of ice skates required one hundred percent of my attention. Once I got the hang of skating with a stick in my hand, Grayson added a puck to the mix. We started off by standing a few feet apart, passing the puck back and forth. It was a lot heavier than it looked from up in the stands, and gave me a new respect for the amount of strength required to shoot it during a game.
Then Grayson skated over to the goal. “All right, here’s your final exam. Try to score a goal.”
“Shouldn’t you be wearing pads and a mask?” I asked.
Grayson smirked at me. “I think I’ll be fine.”
I wouldn’t have admitted it to him, but skating while dribbling a puck wasextremelydifficult. The first few times I tried, I didn’t even get a chance to shoot the puck—I kept losing control of it. Rather than making fun of me, Grayson actually shouted words of encouragement.
When hockey players shot the puck during a game, it flew through the air with blistering speed. Yet when I eventually collected enough coordination to shoot it? It slid across the ice in slow motion. It took about ten seconds to travel twenty feet, and Grayson slowly turned his head to watch it miss the goal and bump into the wall.
“We’re getting somewhere now,” he announced, retrieving the puck and passing it back to me. “Try again.”
There was a totally different vibe between us as I continued trying to shoot the puck. On our first date, every insult was intended to sting. On our next two dates, the insults were half-mean, half-joking. But tonight, there was almost nothing malicious about the comments either of us made. Grayson’s words of encouragement were almost sweet. Like he genuinely wanted to see me improve and succeed.
Despite my struggles, I was enjoying the date. I didn’t even have to fake my smiles, and his cheerful laughter seemed every bit as real.
Eventually, I fired the puck directly at the goal. It was on target. Grayson could have easily deflected it, but instead he watched it slide between his legs and into the net.
The light on top of the goal flashed red and the goal horn blared throughout the arena. Even though he hadletme score, I tossed down the hockey stick and threw my hands in the air victoriously.
“Goal!” Grayson announced, tossing down his own stick to celebrate with me. “I guess you reallyarea natural hockey player.”
I was the furthest thing from a natural, but his compliment stillmade me grin like an idiot.
“Nice job,” he said, holding up a palm.
