Page 52 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Penn

Forty-eight hours without Bri and I miss her like crazy. It ’ s wild to think that when she first moved to Toronto, we were strangers, and now we ’ re—I don ’ t know what to call it because it feels so much more meaningful than boyfriend and girlfriend. It ’ s more than just dating.

Me: How are you feeling?

Soup: Doing just fine, thanks, Doc.

I ’ ve tried to be better about checking in.

It ’ s already been three weeks since she started taking her anxiety medicine.

From what I read, it can take a few weeks to really feel the full effects, and I need to make sure she ’ s good.

It ’ s my job. From what she ’ s been telling me, it seems like it might already be starting to work, which is incredible.

Me: Glad to hear it. Miss you, wish you were

here. Tonight ’ s going to be tough.

Soup: You ’ ve got this. You ’ ve been on fire

lately, you just have to keep playing like you

have. I know you can.

Ever since Bri showed up at our game, holding up that sign, everything has changed.

It was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders.

Instead of scrambling to play like I used to, or playing to prove to everyone else that I should have a spot on the team, I just—I don ’ t know, played .

I ’ ve been trusting my instincts, focusing on a single play at a time, and I ’ ve slowly crawled my way back to where I was last season.

Me: Thank you.

Soup: Maybe we should actually try something

else out…

Me: Oh yeah? What ’ d you have in mind?

My phone rings and I pick it up with a smile on my face.

“ Hello?”

“ Are you by yourself right now?” Fuck, why does she sound so seductive?

I look around at our six-top. All of us grabbed some food together after practice. “ No, I ’ m with the guys, why?”

“ Good.” I ’ m not sure where this is going…“If I remember correctly, I offered to suck you off if you played well and I ’ d say that incentive was quite effective.”

I swallow hard, trying not to let my thoughts run wild. “ It was…” Scored my first hat trick of my career as a result.

“ Yeah, and I ’ ve been really, really wanting to work on our phone sex.” The pure want in her voice has me adjusting myself in my seat.

I cautiously look around the table, trying not to draw attention to myself. “ Oh yeah?”

“ Mmmhmm.” My phone vibrates in my hand. My eyes nearly bug out of my head the second I see it ’ s a picture from Bri. “ What ’ s this?”

“ A little taste of what you might get if you score a goal tonight…” I discretely click open and see Bri ’ s arm, carefully holding up her tits, her manicured fingers covering her nipples from view. I lick my lips, trying to hold back a groan. My dick is already swelling in my jeans.

“ Fuck,” I whisper, looking around to make sure the guys aren ’ t listening in. Jack looks at me funny, but turns his attention back to Scott.

“ Feeling incentivized?” she asks innocently.

“ Very.”

“ Good. Enjoy the rest of your lunch!”

There ’ s a sudden click—she hung up on me.

I ’ m now going to have to figure out how to deflate my dick or my teammates will never let me live this down.

***

I ’ m feeling good. Warm-ups went well. My body is ready to play hard, my mind is focused—well, on Bri—but focused nonetheless.

This entire year, I ’ ve been trying to be the better version of me.

Penn 2.0. It ’ s been helpful in some aspects.

Trust me, I love having a fridge stocked full of real food and getting into a routine of just general adulting, but the hyperfocus on nothing but training and hockey just isn ’ t for me.

I thrive in the middle ground. I want to do well.

I want to succeed, but I have to do it my own way.

I like the balance. I can have fun playing, keep it light, and still have a long career—I know that now.

I ’ m here for a reason, I got here on my own merits, and the way I ’ m going to stay here is by playing the way I always have.

I take a seat in one of the stalls, unlace my skates, and pull out my phone. There ’ s a text from Bri, and I click on it faster than I care to admit.

It ’ s her. Even though she doesn ’ t show her face, I ’ ve memorized her body, every delicious inch of it.

She ’ s in hot pink and frilly lingerie now.

The first picture looks like a selfie. It ’ s a close-up of her, stretched out, lying on the bed.

The top half of her body is on full display, the soft, creamy skin of her stomach and the fragile frill of her bra cupping her perfect breasts.

I ’ m salivating, and another message pops up.

Fucking hell.

This time, she ’ s laying on her stomach, and all I can see is the delicate pink fabric as it hugs her ass perfectly.

Me: You just lying around all day, waiting to

taunt me?

Soup: Nope.

Me: ?? looks like it…

Soup: They ’ re screenshots

Soup: From a video I took for you

Soup: I ’ d love to send it to you… if you earn

it.

Me: Are you trying to kill me?

Soup: Have a great game ;)

Me: I better have that video on my phone waiting

for me the minute I score a goal for you.

Soup: Better make it in the first period, I have

an early morning tomorrow, can ’ t stay up to

watch the other two.

With the three-hour time difference, it ’ s already getting late in Toronto, and I know her shift starts at five.

I don ’ t want her to have to stay awake any longer, but I am so fucking desperate for her, I ’ m secretly hoping she will.

If my girl needs a goal from me in the first period, that ’ s exactly what she ’ s going to get.

Seven minutes into the game, Theo sauces me the puck, and my heart races.

I ’ m already deep in LA ’ s zone. A flash of an opportunity opens up in front of me, and instinct kicks in.

I pivot around their defenseman, flicking the puck with precision, sending it right in the direction of the lower pocket of the net.

Time seems to slow as I watch the puck soar through the air, inches away from the goalie ’ s desperate reach. It moves closer, gliding into that perfect three-inch space between his skate and the goal post.

I hold my breath, watching his head snap back in disbelief, unable to process that my shot actually made it past him. All I hear is the pounding of my own heartbeat, a rush of triumph flooding through me. I smile, turning back to my team, who are charging at me.

They slap my shoulders and helmet, but there ’ s no celebration quite like the one I know will be waiting for me.

I ’ m going to lock myself in my hotel room and watch the video my girl made just for me, all night long.