Page 165 of Breaking the Pucking Rules

“You know, that after amazing sex glow. Man, I’m so jealous right now.”

“I just got fucked by one of Dad’s players in his own house. In my childhood bedroom.”

“In the childhood bedroom where you used to hide posters of said player and fantasize about him. How fucking hot is that?”

“How disrespectful,” I counter, cringing at my own actions.

I am the worst daughter in the world.

Dad has asked only one thing of me. Don’t get involved with his players.

And look at me.

I’m a disgrace.

“Okay, sure. If you look at it that way, then?—”

“Parker,” I snap.

“Casey, you’re a grown-up now, and there is something between the two of you. It’s electric.”

“It’s wrong.”

Parker lowers her ass to my bed and rests back on her palms.

“Look, I know it’s cliché and whatever, but…what if he’s the one, Case? What if all of this is one big love story that’ll have a happy ending?”

“And what if it has disaster written all over it?” I counter.

She raises a brow, a smirk twitching at her lips. “Life is unpredictable, Case. You’ve got to take every opportunity when it arises in case you never get the chance again.”

By the time I showered and found the courage to go back downstairs, most people had left. Not that I cared about most people. There were only two I was interested in.

The house was tidy, but funnily enough the backyard looked like a hockey team had barrelled through it, so Parker, Freya, and I, along with Dad and Freya’s parents, embarked on the job of putting it back together again.

By the time we were done, the sun had long set and the temperature had dropped.

Dad offered to make more food and drinks, but all I wanted to do was lock myself in my apartment and obsess over everything that happened today.

Pathetic? Maybe. But I don’t care.

I’m living out my ultimate teenage girl fantasy, and I’m more than happy to drown in memories of experiencing what it’s like to be touched, kissed, and fucked by Kodie Rivers.

I don’t bother putting any lights on in my apartment. Instead, I make my way through to my bedroom and change into my pajamas.

With my cell in my hand, I crawl into bed and get comfortable.

Hope swells within me that I’ll wake it up and find notifications to say he’s messaged.

But the second it lights up, I find emails and messages from everyone but him.

I quickly reply to Dad to let him know I’m home safe and send a gif in reply to Parker before going through everything else.

But he’s not there. He hasn’t reached out.

A lump climbs into my throat as I think about his words being nothing but post-sex bullshit.

He won’t be the first man to say things he doesn’t really mean while riding out an orgasm, and I’m sure he won’t be the last. But staring at the evidence that he clearly hasn’t thought about me since stings.