I gaze up at him and start to smile.
“Fuck, Poppy, that’s too good, I?—”
He lets out a muffled feral noise as he comes. His release blasts over my mouth and chest and my hair.
I lean up on my knees and glance down at the impressive mess he made on me.
He lets out a flustered laugh. His cheeks are red, and his smile is embarrassed.
“Shit, I’m sorry. It’s just when you look up at me like that…when my dick is in your mouth, and your eyes are all big, and you’re smiling, it’s too much. I can’t take it.”
My chest swells with pride. I smile. “You don’t have to apologize, Nick. I like that.”
His smile turns relieved. He sits up and kisses me while cupping my face.
“You’re amazing,” he murmurs against my mouth before pulling away, then grabbing my hand and guiding me off the bed. “Let me clean you up in the shower.”
Chapter 39
Nick
Ispeed across the ice and chase after the Boston College player in possession of the puck.
“Let’s go, St. George,” Coach Sawyer hollers from the bench as I skate by.
He’s been riding my ass this whole game, even more than usual. I don’t blame him, though. Because there are NHL scouts in the stands tonight, and he wants me to play my ass off. I do too.
That’s why I’m pushing myself beyond my limit tonight. Yeah, I always play hard every game, but tonight I need to do better. I need to work harder, skate faster, and perform better than I ever have. I want to show those scouts that not only am I the best player on this team, but that I’d be an asset on a professional hockey team too.
Nerves fire off inside of me. So much is on the line, but I can’t let my anxiety get the best of me.
I breathe hard, my focus sharpening as I zero in on the opposing player. I block out everything except what’s happening on the ice. I don’t hear the noise from the crowd. I don’t see the stands. All I see is a guy in a white jersey that I need to catch up to.
I close in on him while he heads for our goalie. Travis is in the net tonight, and he’s kicking ass. He’s blocked almost every shot from Boston College, except for one.
We’re tied, it’s nearing the end of the second period, and no way in hell am I going to let this guy score before we head off the ice for intermission.
I check him right as he winds up to shoot the puck. It goes flying toward the boards. A second later, Blake runs over and grabs it, then takes off. I race after him and watch as he manages to avoid a hit from a Boston College defenseman.
He takes a shot at their goalie, but it bounces off the goalie’s stick. There’s a scramble in front of the net for control of the puck. I jump in but get shoved away. Leo has it now, but there’s a Boston player that’s all over him, so he can’t get a clean shot.
He fires it off over to me. The second I have it, I wind up and smack it. It soars over the goalie’s glove, sinking into the back of the net.
I holler and pump my fist as my teammates surround me. The home crowd roars.
“Glad you were open, because there was no way I was making that shot,” Leo says to me.
“It was pure luck. Right place, right time,” I say.
Leo just laughs. “Don’t even try to be modest, dude. You know you rocked it.”
I turn around and glance into the stands. A second later, I catch eyes with Poppy. She beams at me.
This is the first time I’ve seen her this whole game. I’ve been so focused on playing at my best in front of the scouts that I didn’t scan the crowd for her, like I did the first time she came to watch me play.
When I see what she’s wearing, my eyes go wide, and I almost drop my stick.
She’s wearing my jersey.
