Late in the second, Landon skated onto the ice for a shift, and his arrival caused the usual uproar with the fans. He grabbed the puck on the left, pulled the defender past him with a flourish, and flicked a shot high, barely making it past the Stars goalie. The crowd was so loud it sounded like the roof would fly off Frost Bank Center and never be seen again. And I was living for it.
Third period was a war. Bone-crushing hits and too many close calls. Dallas tied it up with five minutes to go, and then we ran on pure instinct rather than thought. Mason streaked up the right, shoulder check from a defender and incredibly, he kept going. The whole bench was on their feet. A quick one-two with Grayson, who held onto the puck and dragged it round the back of the net to draw the defense. One of ‘em hung back to cover Mason. I skated up to join Shawn for the rebound just as Grayson pulled out.
He could’ve easily taken the goalie between his legs, but didn’t. Like a predator playing with his food before going in for the kill, Grayson snapped the puck over in our direction. The Stars defense approached like a wall. Shawn slapped his stick to the ice, pushed off, and it was only once he fell flat right in front of the goal that the guys blocking him realized he didn’t have the puck. He’d faked it.
I made a clean pass to Mason, who was wide open now. He weaved through the scrambling defenders like they were made of smoke, and popped one in before I could blink. The net rippled, and the final horn went.
It was chaos on and off the ice, and there was no hanging back to watch my team celebrate without me. I was right in the thick of it.
“Good to have you back, man,” Grayson said, and clapped me on the shoulder.
I glanced over at the bench and saw Reese making her way to the tunnel. I didn’t dwell on it too long, the fact she didn’t stay, and slapped Grayson’s helmet. “Good to be back, Captain.”
We peeled off the ice with the roar of the crowd still echoing in my ears. My skates clattered over the boards, adrenaline still spiking, pushing me to go do the thing I’d been wanting to do fortoo long. I broke into a run, heart slamming against my ribs, past the locker room, down the hall. To the med bay.
“Hey, what are you—?” Reese started, shock flashing across her face when I burst in.
I slammed the door behind me, and her into it, pressing up as close as my gear would allow. My mouth found hers without a second thought, all the tension, the months of waiting, the frustration, the thrill, the fear I’d screw it up—everything poured into this one kiss.
Her lips were soft, impossibly warm, and when she parted slightly, I slipped my tongue in, tasting her, claiming, lapping up her muffled moans like they were giving me life. Her hands clutched at my shoulders and neck; then they were fists tangling in my jersey, pulling me closer. And I let her. I pressed harder, deeper, feeling her arch into me, the press of her body igniting something low and fierce and so fucking horny for her.
Time stretched. The world narrowed to the slick press of our mouths, the heat of our bodies, the wild pounding in my chest and her quickening breaths against my lips. I tilted her chin up, kissed the line of her jaw, and she shivered against me, fingers raking through my damp hair.
Finally, I drew back, just enough to see her face, all flushed, eyes gleaming. My own lips throbbed, still tingling from hers. She blinked at me, wordless, and then a thumb swept over her bottom lip as if she were checking to see it was still intact. I’d been a bit rough, I admit. My chest eased just a fraction, but the electricity lingered.
I reached for the door and pulled it open, watching as she shuffled aside, still staring at me.
“Good game, Doc.”
And I walked off, leaving her there, every nerve on fire, the memory of her heat seared into me as I headed to the locker room.
14
Reese
“You awake back there?” Theo’s voice cut through the quiet of the med bay.
I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Management breathing down my neck, the off-books injection, McAvoy’s little trading situation… apparently none of that was enough.
Theo had to tack on a kiss I still couldn’t think about for more than a second without losing my grip on basic motor skills.
Avoidance wasn’t an option anymore. Van der Berg was practically packing his bags for Sweden already, which put every player in my hands, including the one person I couldn’t seem to handle.
The taste of him could still be conjured up with me barely trying.
“Doc?”
I guided his arm up and felt the familiar build of muscle under my thumb. No swelling. No visible irritation. The problem was deeper, right where my palm settled near the joint. I asked for a small external turn, and the tension hit my hand before it hit his face. He held steady, but there was a shift in his breathing that told me exactly where it hurt. I chased the range a little higher,pretending I didn’t feel the heat of his skin or the way he leaned forward like he was bracing for bad news.
“Listen. About yesterday.” His voice caught on a small, pained laugh that could’ve been due to the mild torture I was putting him through, or the kiss he brought up.
My fingers tightened a fraction on his trap. He didn’t turn, but something in his posture reacted.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, breathing slow. “I got carried away. Kissing you like that. It wasn’t… I shouldn’t have.”
Of course he shouldn’t have. And I shouldn’t have liked it. And I definitely shouldn’t have replayed it all night and all morning, like an idiot with no sense of self-preservation.
Preservation. Who was that woman, anyway? Never knew her. Not when I was out partying instead of prepping for the MCAT, not when I agreed to help a hockey player cover up his injury, somehow thinking it would all work out great for both of us.
