Page 6 of Knot Your Pucking Mate
“So, you’re a new hockey fan? What drew your interest?”
“Not the sport,” I admit, peeking into the physiotherapy room. A player seems to be in the middle of some sort of assessment with the practitioner. “It was the butts.”
“The butts?” he repeats in surprise.
I take my eyes off the pair in the physio room and turn to face Axel. He’s only a few feet from me, with a cheeky, lopsided grin on his face. His smile is contagious. I can’t help but grin back.
“Yep, the butts. Romance readers like something to swoon over. Hockey players have hockey butts.”
Axel laughs, a deep hearty sound that has me clenching my thighs together as a flare of need spreads across my lower stomach.
I’m not sure how much longer I can play it cool. Every single cell in my body is urging me toward him. It’s a battle to stay calm and collected. To try and keep my professional edge up.
Axel spins around, his back facing me as he drops into a twerk. A surprised laugh escapes me as he looks over his shoulder and winks.
“Does my butt live up to the hype?”
“Definitely,” I say as he straightens and turns to face me again.
“Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me out of the medical wing. “I’ll show you the media rooms. Then we can grab some food, and I’ll explain the game to you.”
His hand is warm in mine, comforting and familiar even though I’ve only known this alpha for like five minutes. I should let go, tug my hand away. But I don’t want to. I want to savor it a little longer. Maybe forever. Scent matches are meant to be forever, so maybe this is just a taste of what’s in store for me.
God, I hope it is.
The media room is just as I imagined, and before I know it, Axel's leading me back into the locker room, his hand still firmly grasping mine.
“Is it okay for me to be here?” I ask, worried I’m encroaching on the players’ private space.
“Yeah,” he answers, looking down at me from behind his thick lashes. “No one else is around at the moment. Plus, I have a social media photo idea.”
“What is it?”
We enter the locker room; the door swings shut behind us and Axel drops my hand, making a beeline for his locker. I follow him as he pulls his jersey off its hanger.
“Arms up,” he says, and I raise my arms instantly, surprising myself. There is no bark in his words, no flexing of his dominance, but I instinctively want to please him.
Axel pulls his jersey over my head and arms, and I drop them to my sides as he straightens the hem and steps back, pulling his phone from his pocket.
It’s enormous on me, hitting just above my knees. And it smells like him. His scent surrounds me, the smoky, woodsy notes drowning me in him.
“Smile,” he says, snapping a picture. I inhale through my mouth, forcing a smile as slick pools in my panties, and I try to avoid breathing in anymore of him. I am seconds away from perfuming and I don’t want to. The second I perfume for him, things will change. The dynamics between us will change. They always do.
“I’m just going to run to the bathroom and then we’ll get lunch. You good here for a minute?”
I nod, the breath burning in my lungs as he smiles and strides across the room, looking back at me over his shoulder as he leaves.
The second he is gone, I rip his jersey off over my head, tossing it back into his locker and bolt for the door. I need air. Fresh air. Something in my lungs that isn’t the smoky scent of campfire that kills my brain cells and threatens to turn me into a gooey mess of an omega.
I keep running, making my way out of the stadium as quickly as possible, somehow managing not to get lost on my way. I slow down as I reach the parking lot, taking big, gulping breaths of fresh air as I make my way to my car and climb inside.
Today was supposed to be about learning. I learned very little about hockey, though. What Ididlearn?
I’m lucky enough to have found my scent match, and I’ve just run away from him.
Shit.
Chapter Four
