I shove the guy off, skating back into play like nothing happened, but when I glance up—there she is.
Elle’s pressed against the glass, her eyes wide, panic written all over her face, and damn if that doesn’t gut me worse than the hit.
She cares.She likes me.She must be able to feel this thing between us, too.
That look… no one has ever looked at me like that.Like I matter more than the game.My grandpa was my harshest critic, never happy with my plays.My dad was the same; he was more interested in his work and bragging about having a talented son than he was in seeing me play.
But Elle… she’s interested inme.Not in the game, not in how I play.Just me.
Or what I can do for her,my subconscious whispers, and I want to check that part of my brain into the boards.
Elle’s not like that.She doesn’t have a duplicitous bone in her curvy little body.
I can’t shake the way she watches me, and it fuels me through the rest of the period.I play harder and faster, like I’ve got something to prove.And maybe I do.Maybe I want her to see me at my best, to understand why I keep the mask on everywhere else.
At the final buzzer, we win by two.The guys celebrate, the fans cheer, but I can’t stop scanning the arena until I spot her again.She’s still watching me, notebook forgotten on her lap.
And just like that, I know.
She’s not just some reporter.She’s not just an assignment.
Elle Martin is mine.
Even if she doesn’t know it yet.
I shower, adrenaline coursing through me.It’s not from the game, though; it’s because I’m about to see Elle, to be near her.My teammates clap me on the shoulder as I dress, and I nod distractedly at whatever they're saying.
I’m the first one dressed and the first to walk into the press room.My eyes instantly lock on Elle, and my breath stalls in my lungs.
God, she’s beautiful.
I sit beside Logan and our coach, trying to pay attention to the questions.It’s no use.All I can see is Elle.Luckily for me, I’m never very talkative at these things, so no one seems to notice my silent distraction.
As soon as it’s over, I’m out of my seat and making a beeline for her.“Hey.”
She smiles.“Hi.”
“I’ll walk you out.Where did you park?”
“All the way in the back,” she says.
I roll my eyes.“Of course you did.”
“That was the only space left!”she argues.
We hit the hallway, and I take her hand, leading her to the locker room so I can grab my gear.She waits for me outside, and as soon as I’m back in the hallway, I take her hand and drag her behind me to the exit.
We head for my car, and I throw my stuff in the back before pulling her into my arms and kissing her like a man starved.Like I’ve been holding myself back for weeks, and now every restraint has snapped.Her hands clutch my jersey, pulling me closer, and her little moan as my tongue brushes hers is enough to make me lose my mind.
She tastes like peppermint gum and something sweeter I can’t name.My thumb strokes the soft skin beneath her jaw as I tilt her head, deepening the kiss.She rises on her toes and presses herself against me.For a second, everything disappears; the crowd noise still spilling out of the arena, the cold night air, and the ache in my ribs.There’s only Elle.
When I finally pull back, we’re both breathing hard.Her lips are swollen, her eyes wide and searching mine like she’s trying to figure out what just happened.
“I’ve been thinking about doing that since the last time I saw you,” I admit, my voice rough.
“Declan…” she whispers, her cheeks flushed.
I press my forehead to hers, trying to get myself under control.“Come home with me.”
