Page 22 of Her Puck Daddies (Game On Daddies #2)

SVEN

I steady myself as soon as I hear Eric’s signature shave and a haircut knock on the hotel room door.

It’s funny how just a sound can stir something deep inside me—anticipation, excitement, and yes, a touch of unease.

It’s not that I don’t have faith in Odds; it’s just the opposite.

But I’ve learned over time to temper my expectations, to walk that fine line between letting hope bloom and guarding myself against disappointment.

It’s a delicate dance, balancing the thrill of wanting with the fear of losing. And right now, the stakes feel impossibly high. It’s not just about the Stanley Cup anymore, it’s about something more personal.

Someone more personal.

As much as I crave that championship victory, there's something else I’m silently, desperately hoping for. Another night —or maybe many nights—with Ava. And for once, hope feels as dangerous as it does exhilarating.

When I open Levi’s room door to find Eric standing there with a giant smile on his face, I nearly whoop and holler like a puck bunny. I’d never admit it out loud, but I was afraid she’d turn us down.

“So, she agreed?” I ask, trying to keep my cool.

“She did, thanks to yours truly,” Eric says, swaggering in like a man who’s just been crowned king of the known universe.

But it’s Levi hurrying up to Eric and clapping him on the back that seals the deal for me.

Of all of us, Spandex is the one most prone to somber moods and long broods, though it’s only ever affected his game lately.

Watching him pull out of his death spiral is a massive relief.

I was really starting to worry there for a while.

“Tell us everything,” I say to Eric, needing to see Levi’s happiness stick. Eric starts his triumph story, no doubt with plenty of exaggeration. I can’t blame him, though. He got us exactly what we wanted.

“Think we should get together at your place, Doggie,” Eric continues, grinning. “Since your place is the biggest and swankiest.”

It ’s true. I’ve been with the team the longest, and my agent made sure my paychecks reflect that. Unlike my buddies, my condo sits on the top floor, ten stories up, offering the best view of every sunset.

And now, Ava is coming to my place. My space. I haven’t brought a woman there since my last relationship ended five years ago. Not for lack of trying—I’ve had two relationships that lasted beyond a few months, but nothing that ever stuck. Maybe I was waiting for the right one.

We’ve always kept things contained to hotel rooms, where the risk of getting caught was low, where it was all about the heat of the moment. But this? This is different. More intimate. More real.

And I want it. I want her.

This isn’t just about lust anymore. I haven’t been able to get Ava out of my head since I found out she’d be our new masseuse. But after that night in the New York—when I had her to myself, when she let go and became my good little bad girl—I knew one taste would never be enough.

Even though none of us make a habit of spilling our bedroom secrets, this situation demands absolute discretion.

What happens between the three of us stays right there—private, untouchable.

And since it’s in Ava’s best interest to keep this locked down too, I don’t see a problem. Now, it’s just a matter of when.

I scan Levi’s hotel room, wishing we were back home. The need to bury myself in Ava again is already winding me too tight, and the wait is damn near unbearable.

Thankfully, the next morning, we’re on our way. And by the afternoon, I’m stretched out on Ava’s massage table, restless with anticipation.

“I’m glad you agreed to spend some time with us again,” I tell her, my gaze dragging over the curves hidden beneath those scrubs she always wears.

I remind myself to keep my hands to myself…

for now. I know she’s had her hands on Levi and Eric in this room, but I can’t follow their lead.

My fucking climaxes are anything but quiet, and I have no intention of holding back.

Which means I need to wait until we’re somewhere I don’t have to.

But I don’t mind. Not when I’ve arranged this appointment with her, partly to get a chance to make a real plan.

“Can you come over on Friday after practice?”

She’s focused on kneading the calf muscles of my left leg and the deep pressure has me holding back a grunt. It’s only when she finishes that she finally speaks.

“ Sounds good,” she says casually, as if nothing has changed.

Over the next day and a half, I’m practically itching to have her. My mind is full of filthy scenarios we didn’t get to explore the first time, imagining how she’ll respond.

The night we met in Jersey was about competition.

Who could push her the hardest, who could pull the most orgasms from her body.

But this time? This is about teamwork. It’s not just about counting Ava’s orgasms, even though I know we’ll still keep track, because we’re men and we’re just competitive as hell.

But it’s not about winning now. It’s more about making sure we’re all in sync, hitting that peak together as we give her everything she needs.

Our schedule unfolds exactly as planned that Friday—afternoon practice, morning drills the next day. But all I can think about is tonight. I need to be well-rested, because sleep is taking a backseat to our rendezvous.

After practice, I’m going to offer her a ride— in more ways than one . And damn, just the thought of it has my blood heating.

I steal glances at her in the stands, watching us. She’s not only coming to the games anymore. She’s watching our practices.

She’s watching me.

And man, if that doesn’t make my dick throb like a bass drum in a packed stadium. All she needs is my jersey, and I’ll be two seconds from pinning her against the nearest wall and fucking her so hard she’ll be begging for me every single day.

Levi has another solid practice, and coach tips his chin at him as he skates off the ice. I follow, Eric just a step behind me when a sharp, piercing scream cuts through the rink.

Feminine. Panicked.

We don’t normally react to fans yelling in the stands—it’s hockey. They scream, they cheer, they lose their minds.

But this?

This isn’t just some random fan.

That scream belongs to Ava .

And every muscle in my body locks up.

My response is instinctual. One second, I’m skating past the blue line. The next, I’m flying toward the nearest opening in the plexiglass, my skates digging into the ice as I race to reach her.

It looks like she fell down the stairs. She tries to stand, but the moment she does, she tumbles right back down.

I g et to her first, with Eric on my tail, but a trainer is already closing in on us, his medical bag in hand.

“Hold still, hold still,” he tells Ava, his voice carrying that mix of detachment and quiet authority that medical personnel always seem to have.

When he presses near her outer ankle bone, she hisses, her body jerking at the contact.

“This needs an x-ray,” he declares. “Let’s get you into the exam room.”

Levi arrives just as that decision is made, and logic kicks in—three of us hovering around Ava like a pack of wolves isn’t exactly subtle. So, reluctantly, we back off and head to the showers, trying not to draw attention to the fact that we’re worried out of our minds.

I scrub down fast, taking a much less thorough rinse than usual before throwing on my clothes. My mind isn’t on practice, the game, or even the usual locker room banter.

It’s on her.

Still, I have to be careful. Showing concern for a coworker is one thing—blatant, laser-focused concern for a very specific coworker? That’s another.

Whe n I spot the trainer standing beside Doc McClaney, I keep my tone light, casual.

“So, how’s our masseuse doing?”

McClaney barely glances up. “She’ll be all right. It’s just a sprain. I’ve got her on crutches, a few days of rest, and she’ll be good as new.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I’m relieved, but it’s not enough.

Not until I see her for myself.

I’m just glad it’s not a break and that she’s already gone home.

But when I realize she won’t be coming over tonight like we’d planned, something tightens in my chest. I shouldn’t feel let down, but I do.

It feels selfish, and there’s no room for that, so I shove it down.

I can’t afford to wallow in disappointment.

Not when my teammates are counting on me to stay steady.

Not when Eric and Levi need me to keep my head in the game.

Ava’s health has to come first, though. A woman in pain isn’t going to want be on her hands and knees getting fucked, no matter how much I want her there.

I pull out my phone and send her a message.

Sven : So sorry about your tumble. How are you feeling?

There. That should sound innocent enough. I really do want to know, and not just to get an idea of when she’d be able to come over.

Ava : I’m fine. They told me to use the R.I.C.E. method.

Ah, the classic remedy.

Sven : Can I bring you anything? An ice pack? A compression sleeve?

Ava : No, thanks. I have it covered.

Sven : If you change your mind, please let me know.

She doesn’t reply, so I motion for Eric and Levi to follow me out. Once we’re in a more private space, I show them the text conversation.

“Yeah, I figured,” Levi grimaces, but that’s the extent of his reaction. “At least it’s not that bad.”

“I hated watching her fall like that. Felt like it took a decade off my life,” Eric adds.

“ Me, too.”

My phone chirps with another text notification. I hope it’s Ava, but it’s not. It’s from our office manager.

Cecille : Guys, as you may have witnessed, our masseuse took a misstep earlier today and gave herself a pretty painful ankle sprain. I’m putting together a care package for her, so anything you’d like to kick in is appreciated. The organization is already sending her a get-well bouquet.

Flowers. Of course. Not that I was ever great at remembering that when I was in relationships. Thank god for Cecille, though. She always picks up the slack for everyone here.

Without hesitation, I send her two hundred and fifty. Ava deserves that extra comfort, no question. I catch Levi and Eric tapping away at their phones, so I know they’re probably doing the same. Ava deserves to feel cared for, and between the three of us and the organization, she will be.

The next day, after morning skate, I freeze in place when I spot Ava limping out of her office.

“What are you doing here?” The words slip out more forcefully than I mean, but damn it, I can’t help it. What the hell is she thinking?

She glares at me, eyes narrowing in defiance. “Uh, working?”

It’s the first time I’ve seen this side of her.

There’s something sarcastic, even feisty, about her tone—and honestly, it’s kind of attractive.

The way her brows furrow and her eyes widen makes me want to reach in, kiss her, and then scoop her up in my arms to take her home, where I can take care of her.

“I don’t think so,” I say, hurrying to her.

Before I know it, I’ve looped one arm behind her knees when she hisses at me like a snake. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“You shouldn’t be here. You need to take it easy.” What the hell happened to R.I.C.E.? But her response is the opposite of what I expect.

“Levi didn’t take it easy with his injury.”

“That’s not the point here Ava. You’re not Levi. And you’re not a hockey player.”

“True. But I work with hockey players. Hockey players who need my services for the upcoming game.”

That game is in two days. But then again, we always have another game. That’s what the season’s all about.

“ We can make do for a while,” I tell her firmly, but something about her has shifted. Any meekness I’ve ever noticed in her is gone.

“No, you can’t. You three skipping sessions with me before should’ve taught you that.”

Frustrated, I drag a hand through my hair. “I mean that we’ll survive. You need to heal. I thought you were going to rest. That’s what you told me yesterday, anyway.”

But she ignores my perfectly valid reference to our earlier conversation, as though I never said anything at all.

“I can use my hands. There’s nothing wrong with them.” She holds them up like weapons, and after the kind of deep tissue massages she’s given, they might as well be.

“Again, that’s not the point.” I gesture to her injured ankle, but she cuts me off.

“The point is that I’m here to do a job, and you’re not stopping me.” Ava hobbles back into her office, slamming the door in my face. I block it with my arm.

This isn’t over.