Page 10 of Pucking Possessive (Kings of Castlebrook #2)

CALLUM

T onight’s the night. Lilac fell asleep on my couch last night with her head on my shoulder. We talked until we were exhausted, but every solution to her problem just led to a dead end.

The thing is, her problems are my problems, and I have a solution that I know she’ll never agree to. That’s why I have to spring it on her after my game tonight.

The arena is buzzing because it’s our last game.

Every seat filled, and everyone is hyped up for a Castlebrook win.

I can feel the energy vibrating through the ice, the kind that gets under your skin and makes your blood rush hot.

It has nothing to do with the game, because what I have planned is either going to go amazing or bomb to spectacular proportions.

Tristan’s locked in tonight. Not a single shot has gotten past him. The other team’s forward just tried to fake him out, which was a mistake. Tristan caught it like it was nothing, flinging it off to Hayden like he was bored.

I’m not far behind as Hayden tears down the ice, eyes up, scanning. He dodges a check, skates like he’s got fire under his big ass feet, and then the puck’s in my lane. I don’t even think. My stick finds it, my shoulders snap, and I send that fucker flying.

The buzzer blares a second later.

The crowd erupts. I raise my arms, grinning. Hayden crashes into me with a whoop, and Tristan glides over, swatting at us both with his stick like he always does. He’s our grumpy goalie who pretends he hates group hugs.

The game resets. Our center wins the face-off and sends the puck flying back to me. I pass it up the boards, weaving between two defenders. The other team’s captain tries to body check me into the glass. I shoulder him right back and grin as he stumbles, barely keeping his skates under him.

We cycle the puck, pass after pass, until I find a seam. Hayden’s already read the play. He shoots. It’s clean, fast, and perfect. The puck slips right past the goalie’s glove.

Goal.

The crowd loses it again, banging on the glass. The student section starts chanting his name, and Hayden soaks it up like a damn rockstar. He puts his glove to his ear and then shifts his hand upward as if to tell them to cheer louder.

With ten seconds left in the period, they get desperate. One of their forwards slashes at Tristan as he covers the puck. Wrong move. Tristan shoves him back with his blocker, and the guy swings again. I’m across the ice in two strides, stick already dropped.

I get in the guy’s face, chest to chest. "Touch him again, and I’ll put you through the boards, motherfucker."

The ref separates us, but the damage is done. Their team backs off. They don’t want smoke with us tonight.

We hear the final buzzer and know what we’ve known since the first few minutes we were on the ice.

We won, but Coach Kav is pacing like he’s still agitated. I swear to fuck, I could hand him a million dollars and he’d have a complaint.

The boys head off the ice toward the locker room tunnel, flushed from our victory. I watch Hayden and Tristan peel off toward the stands, no doubt searching for Madison and Winter. Coach hates when they do that, but he’s never had to shower with Hayden when he hasn’t been able to get his Madi fix.

I don’t have time to focus on what they’re doing, because what I’m about to do is about to make some huge waves at this school. Even if it’s pretend… I’m gonna have it. I’m gonna have Lilac.

I scan the stands, and I let out a deep breath when I see her.

I did my best not to look for her during the game.

I can’t get in my head. I can’t question what she’ll think or what she’ll say.

I just need to do it, and pray for the best. I told her to come to the game.

Texted her earlier and didn’t let her give me a no.

Not after what she told me. That Lexi supposedly got a threatening note on her car.

We just got done playing Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys with the psychos who went after Madison. And now it’s starting again? I told her she needed to come here where I could keep an eye on her. Where I could see her. Where I could breathe knowing she was safe.

And she listened to me.

She’s here.

But she’s not wearing my jersey, which makes me pout a little.

We have time. I’ll even get her one with her nickname like Hayden got for Madi.

It’ll be a twofer. It’ll piss Hayden off, which is always fun, and Lilac will love it.

Plus, Madi is the kind of girl who will be so ecstatic that they can match at games.

Lilac is in a pretty fucking dress, the kind that makes my fists clench because I know every guy who looks at her is thinking about getting his hands on her.

Soft purple fabric and her legs bare are a deadly combination for me.

I can barely keep my thoughts together, and I need to.

This is the most important thing I’m ever going to do in my life.

My jaw tightens. Her dress flutters when she shifts in her seat, and I can’t stop staring. I want her in my old truck, on my lap, legs spread with her knees bracketing my thighs as I pull that dress up around her hips and make her say my name until her voice is gone.

I catch a few guys looking at her. One whispers something to his friend, both of them glancing over at her with dumb fucking grins.

I see red.

I’m as fucking bad as Hayden, but I don’t give a shit.

I want to murder every last one of these fuckers.

I keep watching Lilac as she stands, clearly waiting for me to skate off the ice toward the locker room. I have something else in mind.

I skate over to the announcer’s booth, rip the mic out of some poor intern’s hand, and ignore his protests.

“Lilac Fairbanks,” I say, my voice booming through the speakers. “Get your pretty ass out here.”

There’s a pause in the crowd, and then laughter. Some cheers. A few confused murmurs.

I skate to the center of the ice and drop down to one knee, still holding the mic, but my eyes are locked on the entry tunnel.

She appears a moment later.

Her hair’s in those low fucking pig tails that drive me insane, tumbling past her shoulders.

That damn dress sways around her thighs.

She steps onto the ice, her movements unsure without her skates.

Her eyes are wide, confused, almost a little panicked.

Her gaze meets mine, like she’s asking, What are you doing?

I grin and hold out my hand.

When she reaches me, I set the mic down and catch her hands in mine. My voice is low, just for her.

“Do you trust me?”

She hesitates. Then nods.

“Then act excited. Don’t leave me hanging, bambi.”

Her breath catches, but she gives me the smallest of smiles. Enough to sell it.

I pick the mic back up and lift the ring from my pocket. Not a giant diamond, not something flashy. Just something I picked out because it reminded me of her. I know her, and even if this is fake, I want it to be as authentic as possible.

“Lilac Fairbanks,” I say, loud and clear. “Will you marry me?”

The crowd loses it. Phones are flashing, people are screaming, but my eyes never leave hers.

Her hands come up to her mouth, and she gasps like she’s shocked. She’s playing along. For me. Because I asked her to trust me.

But the way she looks at me in that moment? The way her eyes soften, the way her fingers tremble as I slip the ring on her hand?

Fuck.

I don’t want it to be fake. It’s not for me.

She nods, eyes glossy under the lights. “Yes,” she says, and it’s barely audible, but I hear it.

And then she’s in my arms. Her hands are on my shoulders, my hand cupping her face. I whisper, “I’m sorry,” before I kiss her roughly on the mouth. I know she thinks I’m selling this whole thing so Adam can run back and tell their parents when he finds out.

It’s not soft. It’s not chaste.

It’s everything I’ve been dreaming about since I was old enough to know what this kind of need could do to a man.

My tongue finds hers, and she melts into me like she’s been waiting just as long.

My hands slide down her sides, over her hips, and I grip her ass and hold her against me.

She’d never believe me if I told her, because I’ve carefully crafted a playboy persona on this campus for many reasons.

The truth is? I spend every day, every night, fixated on her.

But the way she kisses me back?

The way she clings to me, breath hitching, her thighs brushing my hips like she can’t get close enough?

That doesn’t feel fake.

I kiss her like I’m dying. Like she’s air, and I’ve been underwater for years. I kiss her like it’s the first and last time, because I don’t know what happens after this.

She pulls back slowly, her lips swollen and eyes wide.

I know her parents are going to lose their minds. I know Vincent’s going to hear about this.

Good, because I’ve already decided he’s going to die, anyway.

This is the start of something that can’t be undone.

And I’m not letting her go.