Page 65 of Her Puck Daddies

As I roll over to the sound of multiple snores, I blink myself awake, my brain still foggy from last night.

The first thing I see is Ava’s naked body, curled up next to me on the sofa, her soft, full tits shifting slightly with every breath, her right leg draped over mine like she belongs there.

Eric’s on the other side of her, the big spoon to her little spoon.

And Levi is passed the fuck out on the opposite end of the couch, sprawled on his back, legs wide open… and his junk just hanging out for the world to see.

I yawn quietly and let my eyes slide shut again, last night’s memories seeping back in, flooding my mind. The heat of it, the way she felt beneath me, the filthy fucking things we did. Every image makes my morning wood throb harder, aching for more.

Andjust as I get ready to drift into the kind of daydream that’ll get me into trouble—

BAM. BAM. BAM.

The most unwelcome noise in the goddamn world blasts through the room.

A knock. No. Not a knock.

More like a fucking meaty fist pounding my front door like someone’s about to break it down.

Shit.

I jump to my feet, catching a glimpse of Ava as she blinks up at me, those beautiful eyes wide, a flicker of apprehension creeping into her features.

She seems to shrink in on herself, curling up like she’s trying to disappear.

At the same time, Levi jerks awake, bolting upright, while Eric’s eyes snap open, already alert.

“What?” he mutters, like I’ve interrupted a conversation mid-sentence.

I don’t answer.

Instead, I fix my gaze on everyone, raising a single finger to my lips, silently telling them to stay quiet.

If we don’t move, if we pretend we’re not here, maybe whoever’s outside will just fuck off.

I’m not expecting anyone. No deliveries. No visitors. Whoever it is, it can’t be that important.

That’s what I think, until I hear the booming, unmistakable voice from the other side of the door.

“Hinter? Open up! Need to speak to you.”

I freeze.

It's Coach Atticus fucking Henley.

What the hell is going on?

Ignoring him isn’t an option, so I glance at the others, lower my voice, and mouth, “Scram.”

Ava leaps to her feet, but the second she moves, she inhales sharply, wincing. The pain from her bad ankle hits her like a slap, making her stumble as she tries to limp toward the hallway. She grips the walls for support, every step a struggle, panic written all over her face.

Eric glances over, sees her struggling, and doesn’t even hesitate. In one smooth motion, he scoops her up, cradling her like she weighs nothing, and hurries her into the room. She's so focused on hiding that she forgets to grab her clothes.

Eric comes back to yank on his athletic pants so fast I hear a seam rip, while Levi, ever the agile motherfucker, practically slides into his jeans like he never took them off. Within seconds, he’s got his shirt back on, Ava’s clothes in hand, and he and Eric beat it out of my living room.

I finish yanking on my own sweatpants, my pulse pounding, waiting until every last trace of my company is gone before heading for the door. Barefoot. Shirtless. Playing it cool.

I flick the deadbolt back, pull open the door, and my stomach drops. Coach isn’t alone. Barb Yeager, the team publicist, is standing next to him.