Page 9 of Her Puck Daddies (Game On Daddies #2)

LEVI

W hen I stalked by Sven yesterday, I knew he was right there, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t need to feel his eyes on me or catch a glimpse of his smug “I told you so” stance.

Normally, I would head straight to the gym to take my frustrations out in sweat equity, but I’m too sore to even consider it. And this morning? Even worse.

My shoulder is killing me.

That last block I made as I butterflied myself strained something vital, and it hasn’t quit searing in pain since. Not that I ever would’ve admitted to that shit if coach hadn’t asked me about it. More like, demanded to know.

Oh, I would’ve gone to somebody to have it looked at eventually, but I’m so pissed at myself.

Pissed enough that I didn’t sleep a wink last night.

So pissed that I need to let off some steam before trying to be around other people.

Unfortunately for me, and for them, my blood is still at a full rolling boil as I stride into the medical bay.

I don’t bother to hide how solicitously I’m holding my arm so it won’t bang around and further damage anything, either.

“What is it?” McClaney, one of the docs stares me up and down.

“Did something to my right shoulder,” I try not to snarl.

“Hop on up here, then.”

After a series of manipulations and scans, he confirms what I suspected—I have a muscle pull.

“The good news is it’s not dislocated, and I don’t see any tearing.

The bad news? You’re on restricted duty for the next week.

No skating, no workouts, and plenty of rest for the next three days.

After that, I’ll re-evaluate, and we’ll take it from there.

In the meantime, take these muscle relaxers.

I won’t make you wear a sling, but keep that shoulder as still as possible. ”

My frustration dulls—just slightly. I hate being sidelined, but if rest is all it takes to get back on the ice, I’ll deal. Besides, our next game isn’t until next week. If I play this right, I should stay on the roster .

“Oh,” he calls after me just as I’m making my getaway. “Book an appointment with Ava on day four—before you see me. Massage can do wonders for strains and pulls.”

Saw that one coming, but it doesn’t make me dread it any less.

The next three days are brutal. I’m not built for sitting around, and being stuck like this is driving me nuts.

The muscle relaxers knock me out for a bit, but once I’m awake?

Pure boredom. I scroll, I pace, I stare at the ceiling.

Rinse and repeat. Just counting down the days until I can actually do something again.

Watching hockey just makes me itch to be out there, and other sports don’t hold my attention. I try a murder mystery show for a bit, but when I guess the killer in the first five minutes, any interest I had fizzles out fast.

Even though Eric and Sven live in the same luxury condo complex, I’ve been avoiding them all week.

I’m not in the mood for people, not even my friends.

Sven still texts me a few times a day, and Eric dropped by with my favorite beef and broccoli from the Chinese place down the street, but they know the drill.

When I get like this, they eventually give up and leave me alone.

Another message comes in from my captain.

Sven : Feel like a visit this morning?

I don’t, so I don’t respond.

Sven : Hello?

Sven : Earth to Levi.

Once ten minutes pass, he sends this.

Sven : All right, then.

The thing is, I feel guilty. Like I’ve let him down. Let Eric down. Let my team down.

I’ve pulled up the Avs’ official online scheduler to book my appointment with Ava more times than I can count, but I can’t seem to make myself do it. I know I have to. No way around it. But my original reasons for not wanting her hands on me still stand.

Not that it matters anymore.

Any discomfort on my end isn’t a priority. So after pacing my living room for the hundredth time and staring out at the Denver skyline—high-rises backed by the Rockies, nothing but a distraction—I pull up the scheduling screen again.

Only one slot left: 9:30 AM. Guess our new masseuse is keeping busy. Looks like I’m the only one with reservations about her, since even Eric showed up for his session a few days ago, according to Sven .

I click the time, finalizing the appointment. The confirmation pops up, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. As hard as that was, I know it won’t compare to actually dragging my ass into her office and letting her do her thing.

But somehow, the next day arrives—after another night of insomnia, I might add—and I find myself standing outside her door. It’s half open, but I don’t peek inside. No need to risk interrupting if she’s still with a client.

For a brief second, I tell myself that if she doesn’t come get me, I can take it as a sign to wander off. But before I can entertain the idea any further, her gorgeous brunette head pops over the threshold.

“Levi, you made it. Please come in.”

Ava’s set up the room differently than Greg did. There’s a fountain bubbling away in the corner, and soft background music drifts from her phone. Instead of the heavy incense Greg used, she has flameless candles that barely have any scent.

Eric must appreciate that.

“I’ll step out while you strip down. You can be nude or in your underwear, whichever you prefer. Please lie prone on the table with your face through the ring and the towel covering your midsection. ”

She’s gone before I can say anything. Her tone is almost identical to Greg’s when I first came in here—clinical, detached, like she doesn’t know me at all. I don’t expect her to be as thorough or go all-in on the deep tissue work like Greg did, but whatever. I might as well get this over with.

I strip down to my boxer briefs and lie on the table, the towel draped over my ass just like she instructed. Ava knocks on the door, just once, and then cracks it open, peeking inside.

“Okay if I come in?”

“Yeah.”

If I didn’t already know better, I could swear that she’d never been around me before.

“I understand that you’ve recently suffered a pulled muscle in your right shoulder. Is that correct?”

“Mm-hmm,” I grumble. I’m still not happy about my injury, even though the tenderness has lessened somewhat over the past few days.

“Let’s start there.” She rests her fingertips on my bare skin, and even though her hands aren’t cold, I tense up. “Do me a favor and take a nice long inhale for me.” She models this by audibly doing the same. “And now, blow it out. ”

I do as she says, and she sounds pleased.

“There. That’s better. I’m going work on the muscle groups that surround your shoulder first, then I’ll conduct the rest of the full body massage. If you feel any pain or need me to adjust the pressure, let me know.”

I almost tense back up when she touches me again, but since I know that’ll do more harm than good, I do my best to turn into a flimsy dishrag. She uses her thumbs to create this fanning motion from the top of my shoulder, working her motions downward until she reaches my elbow.

“Any discomfort?”

If she’d done that right after the game, I would’ve hissed at her like a snake. But now…

“No. Not really.” Not much.

“So, no pain or some pain?”

“Minimal pain, but it’s not bad.”

“Okay, then.”

She continues her work, using a mix of techniques to knead the muscle group.

I find myself growing drowsy, blinking myself awake more than once.

It's the same reaction I had under Greg’s care, but with Ava, her touch feels even more healing.

I can’t explain it. It’s like she instinctively knows where to be gentler without me having to say a word.

Ava zeroes in on the kinks in my lower back, a trouble spot of mine, and digs in, working them out with expert precision. Then again, she is an expert. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be trusted to take care of all of us.

“Flip over for me?” she asks, and my body’s so relaxed I feel like batter that hasn’t quite cooked enough to be a pancake. Still, I manage to comply.

She begins at the front of my wounded shoulder, her fingers working gently, almost tenderly, over the injury. The pressure she applies feels good, soothing even, but it’s that shift in position that makes something inside me stir. I know it’s her. Not Greg. Ava.

Seeing her like this, focused, her attention moving down my torso, adds a new weight to the moment. As her hands work into the flesh of my pecs and abs, each movement has a deeper effect on me. Maybe it’s the way she leans in, her gaze dropping toward the cock I once drove into her willing mouth...

I remember it all so vividly.

How plump and juicy those pink lips of hers were as she opened her jaw.

The sparkling intensity of her dark eyes as she kept them locked on my own.

How she took her time before enveloping me.

The visual of her inching her way toward the bulbous tip of me had dribbles of clear precum seeping from my tip.

And that had been nothing to how she felt.

There’d been heat and exactly the right amount of moisture as her tongue danced along the thick vein at the back of my shaft, running from root to tip.

As crazy euphoric as that had been, when she’d sucked me down, half swallowing me into her throat, I’d had to exert every millimeter of my control to keep from spilling right then and there.

And of course. With all this untimely imagery filling my brain, my cock springs to life as if she just might do it again.

I go still, each of those loose muscles tightening right back up again, when she tuts at me despite the skin across her cheeks flushing a noticeable pink.

“Now, now, relax for me.”