Page 21 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Twenty-One

Smitty

The puck flew through the air, coming straight for my face.

I swiped a hand up, used my glove to bat it down.

Cas, who was lining up to my right, smirked, “Just making sure that moony expression you’re wearing hasn’t affected your reflexes.”

“Dude,” I muttered, flicking the puck over to my line mate. “Not you, too.”

“Of course, me too, man.” Cas caught the pass, swiped it back to me. “You’re the biggest shit-giver in the room. This is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, being able to give you crap about being smitten with Kailey.”

Anger prickled through me. “Why wouldn’t I be smitten over her, assholes? She’s fucking?—”

“She’s great,” Cas interrupted. “I’m just loving that you’re whipped after giving Marcel and Oliver and Luc so much shit about it.”

Except, I might have given my friends shit, but Pru knew that I’d been longing for someone who saw me for who I was and didn’t find me lacking or dysfunctional. She’d given me the advice that had allowed me to recognize what I was feeling with Kailey, to not be scared of going for it.

Because I saw my friends being happy.

Because I wanted that, too.

Because…I was willing to put my heart on the line to find what they had.

So, I might give them shit, but we all knew that I was really fucking jealous—or had been jealous.

Kailey was…

Enough to take my breath away.

And even though we were new, even though I’d just gotten her to begin trusting me, I knew this was everything.

I still didn’t like being on the receiving end of the shit-giving, though I could admit that I deserved it.

“Well, you suck at giving shit, so you should just give up,” I grumbled, whipping the puck back over.

“Well, you suck…at…” His eyes flicked to the side.

“Insert a lot of things I can’t think of right now because Jake is giving me that look that says we’d better stop fucking around otherwise he’s going to dump a boatload of new drills on us, and I really don’t feel like dying on the ice this afternoon.

” He grinned. “I met this girl last night”—he brought his glove to his mouth, a la a chef’s kiss—“and she invited me over tonight for homemade pasta.” Another chef’s kiss.

“Hockey. Carb loading. Fucking. The perfect trifecta of the day.”

I couldn’t disagree with that.

I also didn’t want to be on the receiving end of any extra drills from Jake.

So, I resisted the urge to punch my D partner in the throat, dealt with the quiet, albeit, not so subtle shit-giving that was tossed my way, from Cas and pretty much everyone else—though I made a mental note to start plotting?—

A mental note that grew into a mental billboard after I walked into the locker room and found my stall stuffed full of creepy as fuck plush wombats.

Why?

Why the beady eyes?

Why, God?

Grabbing a stick, I knocked them away from my space—ignoring the fucking cackles from the guys and definitely plotting some serious revenge.

“I feel like you should lead with the Stanford alum part,” I said lightly, reaching over and topping off her glass with beer.

I’d wanted to take her someplace nicer than CeCe’s—the bar me and most of the Breakers organization hung out at on the regular—but Kailey had asked to come here, saying she’d heard everyone talk about it and would like to see the place for herself.

Also, it was really early for dinner.

None of the nice places were open yet.

So, we were sitting on barstools at a high-top table, my feet on the bottom rung, Kailey’s swinging lightly as she sat next to me.

A basket of mozzarella sticks was in front of us.

A plate of nachos next to that. Both had been pretty much decimated, but the salad I’d ordered—wanting to pretend to be at least a little bit healthy—was untouched.

Now we were working our way through a pitcher of beer, sitting around, chatting about our pasts.

She’d been a little jumpy at first and had stammered her way through ordering, glancing at me a half-dozen times, like she’d expected me to explode in frustration.

I hadn’t, of course.

When I’d been in all my interventions in school, trying to figure out how to read initially, and then, later, the techniques to make it easier, I’d hated when I’d felt the impatience of the person helping me.

Sometimes it was verbal—a sharp “come on” or “hurry up.” But the majority of the time it was nonverbal—a shifting, a sigh, a head bob, or a hand flicking.

I’d gotten really good at picking up on all of those things, tuning into that impatience, trying absolutely anything to stop it from coming to a head.

Kailey was that way, too.

Maybe that was why my soul felt comfortable with hers.

And the longer I’d waited, the more patient I’d been, the more she’d relaxed. The easier it had been for her to be there, in a new place with people all around—or at least, from what I’d presumed.

Her face had relaxed.

She hadn’t gotten that wide-eyed, panicked look I’d seen at the barbecue—which had brought me to a slight side tangent of hating myself for how I’d handled that initial interaction, not recognizing the signs, wishing I had and?—

“What?” she asked softly, her hand finding my arm.

“I’m just thinking about the barbecue.”

She shuddered. “Oh that ,” she whispered. “Not my idea of a good time.” She released my arm, picked up the last mozzarella stick, offered it to me, and when I shook my head, took a big bite, washing it down with a sip of her beer. “But,” she said, when she’d swallowed, “I’m getting better at it.”

“I think you’re doing incredible.”

“You should have seen me before,” she whispered, a little shyly. “And you’d really think that.” Her fingers wrapped around my forearm again, and I fucking loved that she was seemingly touching me without thinking, comfortable enough that her body found mine.

Like Lexi to Luc.

Like Hazel to Oliver.

Like Pru to Marcel.

I was part of that solar system now, a pair of planets orbiting each other, or maybe I was the moon to Kailey’s?—

“It’s easy with you all,” she said softly. “I don’t know if it’s the fresh start, or you all are just really nice, but”—she took a breath—“it feels like my lungs work better here.”

“All that sea air,” I said lightly.

A grin. “Maybe.”

Fingers through her hair, the shorter pieces that framed her face falling forward to tease her cheeks. “Or maybe it’s that we’re all nice.”

She snorted now, humor dancing across her face. “No, baby,” she murmured. “You’re not nice. Very not nice.”

My hand found its way to her thigh, fingers splaying, feeling the heat of her pussy blazing even through the denim of her jeans. Her color went high, leg twitching. I slid it up an inch. Two. “Should we see how very not nice I can be, little bird?”

“Why?”

My brows furrowed. “Why what?”

“Why do you call me that?”

The hard left in our conversation threw me for a minute, but then I caught the hint of naughtiness in her expression, her lips fighting a smile.

And I couldn’t resist bending my head, slanting my mouth over hers, and kissing the shit out of her.

Right in the bar.

Where anyone might see.

Where…she might be uncomfortable.

Fuck.

I pulled back, slowly, because it was almost impossible to have my lips on hers, my tongue in her mouth, and then just stop kissing her.

But I managed to straighten away from her, though I did pull her stool even closer so that I could turn and put my legs on the bottom rung of the stool on either side of her, trapping my little bird in place.

She leaned back against my chest, eyes glazed and lips damp and swollen.

And the need to kiss her again was nearly overwhelming.

A hand on my cheek.

Her thumb tracing over my lips.

“Why’d you stop?” she asked.

Fuck, why had I?

Because she was staring up at me, need written into the lines of her face, her body pressed to mine, and I was trying, searching desperately for a reason to not take her into the hall and find a storage room, a bathroom, hell a semi-dark fucking alley to alleviate this need that was burning through me.

Kailey first.

Kailey first.

I sucked in a breath, wincing when it bounced her against my chest. Placing a palm between her shoulder blades, I steadied her. “I thought you might be uncomfortable with the PDA.”

A quiet chuckle, her head tilting back so that her chin rested on my sternum.

And fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have her naked and on top of me and staring at me like that.

Then she totally undid me by saying, “Smitty, baby, do you think I could ever be anything but comfortable with you?”

I went still, those words tearing through me, burning and breaking, reducing me to pieces and ash, and then I was whole again. Only this time, it was more. I was more.

Because of her.

Holding her against me, I dug out my wallet, threw some bills on the table, and signaled to Julie, our server, that we were out of there.

Then she was on her feet, eyes going wide, body leaning into me as I steadied her.

“What’s the matter?”

I bent, nipped her earlobe. “What’s the matter?” I asked, flicking out my tongue, tasting her, hearing the moan that escaped her lips. “ What’s the matter?”

A shudder. “Y-yes,” she whispered. “What’s?—?”

I grabbed her hand, tugging her out of the room, narrowing my eyes at Julie when she smirked. She just waved and mouthed, “Another one bites the dust.”

And I couldn’t be annoyed with her for the teasing.

I was completely gone for Kailey.

Especially when she told me things that were a big deal. A really big deal.

I pushed through the outside door, still towing her along, but the cool air seemed to spark her to action, and she began dragging her heels. “Smitty,” she said, tugging at my hold. “No. Stop. Tell me what’s the matter, baby.”

Baby .

Fuck.

I turned, thanking God we’d parked out back.

Because one second, I was intent on getting her to my car, and the next I was on her.

Lifting her into my arms, encouraging (though she was pretty much doing it automatically by now) her legs around my waist. I pressed her into the wall, barely remembering to slide a hand behind her head so that it was protected.

Her hands came to my face. “Your eyes,” she whispered. “What is it?”

And I wondered how much of the crazed feeling that was twisting through me showed on my face.

Because what she’d said. The endearments.

Ash again.

To be put in a little jar solely for her possession.

“You,” I said.

She blinked.

“You’re fucking wonderful.”

She blinked again.

Then a slow smile built on her face, as though I were watching her erect it brick by brick. Small then larger. Gentle then wicked.

Wicked .

Because her palm was snaking down between us, drifting for the waistband of the sweats I hadn’t bothered to change because we’d just been going to CeCe’s.

But now there was no shield.

No barrier.

And her fingers slid beneath.

I caught her hand, brought it to my mouth.

She shivered when I pressed a kiss to her palm, but then she slid that palm down, her arm coming around my shoulders as she leaned in.

“You’re fucking wonderful, too.”

My dick got even harder. My hand on her hip clenched, trying to resist the urge to thrust into her. “ This , little bird. This is what’s the matter. I’m two seconds away from fucking you in broad daylight in a parking lot.”

Still.

A tiny, gorgeous statue in my arms.

Then…she giggled. Her other hand coming up and wrapping around the side of my neck, her laughing eyes meeting mine. “I’m comfortable with you, baby. But maybe not quite ready for public fucking.”

I groaned, dropped my head to her shoulder.

“Killing me, little bird. Killing me.”

“I’ll stop if you tell me why you call me that.”

Laughter bubbled in my chest, and I held her closer. “Now,” I murmured, nipping at the side of her throat, “how am I going to punish you for that bit of snark?”