Page 32 of Breaking the Pucking Rules (LA Vipers #1)

KODIE

T he buzzer sounds, the lights flash, and our fans go wild as we break our losing streak with an epic win at home for our final pre-season exhibition game.

This is the fucking thing I live for.

Spinning around, I search the crowd for my girl.

A wide smile spreads across my lips, and a laugh erupts when I find her on her feet, her arms in the air, jumping up and down, screaming my name.

Fuck. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

I glance at Mom, who’s much more composed in her celebration. She smiles at me and nods while Sutton continues bouncing beside her.

“Love you, Daddy,” she mouths, making my heart ache in my chest.

I didn’t think it was possible to love another human being this much. And I swear it only gets stronger every freaking day.

I keep my eyes on her for a few more seconds before I can’t help but search for someone else.

She’s here, and she’s been driving me crazy.

I expected her to turn up wearing someone else’s jersey again, but to my shock—and delight—she’s back to mine.

I don’t want to say it’s the reason I’ve played like I actually know what I’m doing again—unlike the last two games—but having her supporting me, on my side again…fuck, it feels good.

She still hasn’t replied to my message, but seeing her wearing my number again makes me think that maybe she will. Or that maybe she’s asking me to follow up.

Fuck, it’s tempting.

She’s so fucking tempting.

She smiles at me, and I swear it rocks the ice beneath me.

The air between us crackles just like it did in the hallway the other day.

I wanted to kiss her so fucking badly. Despite being right outside her dad’s office, I’ve regretted not doing so ever since.

She looked so fucking beautiful and smelled fucking delicious.

She might be off-limits, but I want her again. And it’s getting worse with every day that passes.

Touching her on Thursday, no matter how innocently, only stoked the fire burning inside me.

Now, with this win under our belt and the high I’m riding from both my assists and goal tonight, my need for her is an inferno.

“Great game, man,” Handsy says as he skates up to me with his helmet under his arm and a wide smile on his face.

“I should be the one congratulating you on your shutout. Epic, man. Fucking epic.”

“Ah, it’s only the beginning.”

“Fuck, yeah,” I agree as the rest of the team huddles around us, celebrating as our loyal fans continue to chant.

Best feeling ever.

“ D addy.” I hear her excited squeal the second I step into the room before there’s a flash of light brown hair as she flies toward me.

“Hey, Peanut,” I say, lifting her from her feet and wrapping her in my arms.

The attention of others burns into me, and I know without looking up that it’ll be the women.

It’s the same everywhere I go with Sutton.

The bunnies are bad, obviously. But since becoming a single dad, I’ve started attracting a whole other group of women.

Ones who want to be Sutton’s new step-mommy.

Yeah, no thank you.

I swear, some days, I can’t go fucking anywhere without attracting attention.

I understand why the guys think I’m crazy for not embracing it while I have it, but I don’t have the energy for women—anyone, actually—who only want me because of my career and daughter.

It’s bullshit.

“You were amazing tonight,” Sutton praises as I lower her back to her feet.

“So were you,” I tell her with a smile. “I could hear you screaming from the ice.”

Her smile lights up her entire face, and the sight makes my chest contract.

“Hey, little Riv,” Linc says, stepping up behind us and holding his fist out for her to bump.

She beams at him and touches her knuckles against his as if she’s one of the team.

“I hope that’s a Storm jersey you’re wearing,” Linc teases.

Sutton scoffs before placing her hands on her hips. “There will only ever be one name and number on my jersey,” she states fiercely.

Linc shoots me an amused glance before he reaches out and ruffles her head.

“I look forward to the day another player enters her life,” he teases.

“Never going to happen.” The glare she gives Linc makes me laugh.

“We’ll see.”

He ducks off as Mom approaches. “Great game,” she says.

“Thanks,” I mutter as I attempt to discreetly glance over her shoulder, searching for someone else.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out with the guys tonight?” she asks, dragging my attention back.

“Nope, not tonight. I want to put my girl to bed,” I say, squeezing Sutton’s hand a little.

I cleared it with Coach earlier that I wasn’t hanging around after the game. The only place I want to be tonight is at home.

Next week, we’re heading out for our first road games, and I’m going to miss the hell out of her. I’ll be able to spend time bonding with the guys then. Sutton is my priority right now.

There’s movement behind Mom, and as the crowd parts, I get my first look at Casey.

She’s got her back to me, allowing me to see my name and number on her jersey.

The sight of it hits me right in the balls.

Mine.

I grit my teeth at the memory of having her body pinned against mine the other day, even if it was only briefly.

The need to breathe her in, to slide my hands down her body burns through me.

As if she senses my attention, she slowly turns around and her eyes lock on mine.

It’s like a shot to the chest.

My breath catches and my temperature spikes.

We’re surrounded by people, many of whom could be watching this exchange, but with her eyes on me, it’s like we’re the only two in the room.

“Daddy?” Sutton says, tugging on my hand and successfully ripping my attention from Casey.

I turn back to her and listen as she tells me about a particular play that she was impressed by tonight.

I allow her to sweep me up into her game analysis as I lead her and Mom from the room before I do something stupid like change my mind.

M y skin is still tingling, and my blood is surging with desire as I climb into bed a couple of hours later.

After putting Sutton to bed, I stripped out of my suit and hit the bike in my home gym in the hope of banishing some of the energy buzzing through me.

I knew it was going to be pointless. It’s not post-win adrenaline I’m dealing with. It’s something I haven’t battled with in years.

Desire.

The sheets brush over my skin and I groan as I lie back against my pillows, my cock fully hard and aching.

For her.

Closing my eyes, I will my body to calm down.

Over the last few years, it’s become easier and easier to somewhat shut off this part of my brain. Sure, I still had needs, but I became used to taking care of them myself.

My life was hockey and Sutton; anything that fell outside of that just wasn’t important enough to be a focus of mine.

But then there was her…

She shattered everything I’d told myself.

Broke through the lies I’d forced myself to believe about what I wanted.

My cock jerks, resting on my stomach, as I think back to how close I came to kissing her right outside her father’s office.

All I could think about was her. Her sweet taste, her soft curves, her pretty pink pussy.

“Fuck,” I groan, my fingers sinking into my hair and tugging until a shot of pain races down my spine.

It doesn’t help.

My head is still full of her and my body…fuck, it craves hers.

Before I can stop myself, I reach toward my nightstand and grab my cell.

The fact she still hasn’t replied drives me to the brink of insanity.

She told me she accepted my apology to my face; I should be able to let it go now.

That was what that night was about.

Closure.

But I didn’t fucking get it.

I open Instagram and check her profile. As predicted, there is an image of her tonight proudly wearing my number and wishing us good look.

That’s basically all her profile is.

Hockey.

I may not know all that much about her, but it’s clear that hockey runs through her blood.

It makes me wonder what she was like as a kid. Was she like Sutton, giving her dad a detailed analysis of her performance after every game?

Did she play?

Hell, I don’t even know if she can skate.

There’s a selfish part of me that hopes she can’t so that I can be the one to teach her.

Who am I kidding? Her father is James Watson. Of course she can skate.

After staring at the images of her tonight for a minute or two too long, I tap the message icon.

Instantly, my unanswered message appears.

I stare at it, irritated that she couldn’t even send me a thumbs-up.

No, scratch that. That would have been worse than nothing.

Nothing good comes from a thumbs-up.

A middle finger would be preferable to a thumb…

My mind drifts to the gutter, wondering which Casey would prefer.

Both…

Fuck.

I run through several message options, some dirtier and more questionable than others.

I was in college the last time I sent filthy messages to a girl; it feels fucking weird.

I’m a grown-ass man. I’m a father.

I should be past getting nervous about messaging a girl.

Kodie Rivers: Good to see you chose the right jersey tonight.

The second I hit send, I regret it.

I was going for teasing, but reading it back, it sounds patronizing.

Jesus. I’m screwing this up before it’s even started.

In a rush, I close the app. If I can’t see it, I can pretend it didn’t happen.

I attempt to distract myself with sports news and scores from today’s games, but I don’t register anything I read.

Throwing my cell to the bed, I swing my legs off and pad through to the bathroom to take a piss.

Easier said than done when I’m rocking a semi.

Fucking Casey.

She’s not even here, and she’s causing fucking trouble.

It takes longer than it should to do my business, and I’m busy convincing myself that I won’t have a reply as I stalk naked back to my bed.

But as I approach, I notice my screen is alight with a notification.

My heart jumps into my throat, and I surge forward, snatching it up.

Instagram message.

My hand trembles as I tap to open it, and the second I see who it’s from, all the air rushes from my lungs and I collapse on the bed.

Casey Watson: Don’t flatter yourself. You play better when I’m wearing it…

A laugh bursts out of me.

Kodie Rivers: We’ve only lost one home exhibition game. How would I know what you were wearing for our road losses?

My heart is a runaway train in my chest as I wait for her response.

I already know it’s going to floor me. That’s what Casey Watson does to me.

She takes everything I thought I knew about myself and my life and throws it into a fucking blender.

Casey Watson: I watch road games in nothing but a pair of panties with your number on.