Page 139 of Playing the Pucking Game

“This is me,” she says, coming to stop at her hotel room as if I didn’t pick her up from here a few hours ago. “Thank you for tonight, it was amazing.”

“You’re welcome. It was fun,” I say as I pull my cap from my head and comb my wild curls back before putting it back on, only backward this time.

She watches my every move, her eyes wide and curious.

“I guess I should let you get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I don’t need Coach on my ass because his star player is lagging.”

I can’t help myself. I take a step closer to her.

“Star player, huh?”

She rolls her eyes, her smile growing. “I’m sure some people would call you that. Can’t say I’ve ever met them, though.”

“You’re such a brat,” I state.

Her pupils dilate, and she swallows thickly.

Fuck.

Get the hell out of dodge before you do something to ruin all of this again.

“You’d be bored if I were anything else.”

“I guess so.” When my eyes drop to her lips, I spot a bit of frosting she missed from her latest donut.

She gasps when my thumb drags across her full bottom lip.

“So sweet,” I muse as I suck it off my skin.

“Linc,” she breathes. As much as I want to imagine it’s an invitation to continue, I know it’s not.

“I know, Parker. I’m going. I promise.” But before I do that, I reach out and pull her in for a hug. “Thanks for tonight. I had fun hanging out with you.”

“Me too,” she mumbles against my chest.

I duck lower as I release her and drop a kiss on her cheek.

“Linc.” She giggles, quickly covering the spot with her fingers as a blush creeps up her neck. She turns away to hideher reaction and busies herself with finding her key card and opening her door.

“Good night, little P. Sleep well.”

“Sweet dreams,” she calls after me as I take off down the hallway toward the elevator.

Yeah, they will be. They’ll be full of you.

Just as Iknew it would be, the crowd at Madison Square Garden is fucking electric, and the boos of the home fans only push us to play harder.

We end up finishing regulation with a tie, but then Kodie hits a world-class slap shot only a minute into overtime, securing us the win.

The celebration is wild, but despite our jubilation, we aren’t able to go out and party the night away, because no sooner is the game over than we are heading to the airport to travel back home. We can’t really complain because once we’re home, we’ve got a day off.

Still riding high from our win, I tug my duffle bag higher on my shoulder and step onto the airplane. Most of the others are already on board, and apparently, they’ve brought the party. But as excited as they all are, it’s got nothing on the moment Kodie steps on behind me.

The entire plane erupts in cheers. Anyone would think we hadn’t celebrated the second the buzzer sounded.

“Fuck, yeah. Kodie Rivers is the man,” I bellow, spinning around and bowing to him, much to his irritation.