Tate
My head is not in training today; all I can think about is last night. I have been with men before, but never have I fucked a woman at the same time. I shake my head—I need to focus on the drill, not on how it felt being balls deep in pussy while being fucked.
“Landon! Your positioning is shit!” I call out.
Landon glances at me from across the ice, and even from this distance, I can see the corner of his mouth quirk up. His smile makes my skin burn, but I force myself to look away.
“My bad, Coach,” he says. “Guess I’m a little distracted.”
Heat climbs my neck, and I turn away, pretending to focus on something else. The last thing I need is for anyone to notice me blushing like some lovesick idiot at one of my players.
“Again,” I snap. “And this time, put the puck where it’s supposed to go.”
The team runs through the drill for the third time, and I observe from the boards. Most of my focus is on the line formations and strategy, except for a small part of my attention that keeps drifting to Landon as he glides across the ice with the lethal control that made me hate him in college as much as I wanted him—but that’s a problem I can’t even acknowledge.
Thomas comes over to join me.
“Tate,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Are you feeling all right? You seem a little distracted.”
“I’m fine,” I say, which is a big fat lie. My brother gives me a look that says he doesn’t quite believe me, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he skates back out to run the team through another set of drills.
I go back to taking notes I don’t really need, pretending to focus when really I’m trying very hard not to think about last night.
Levi comes to stand next to me at the boards, fresh off the ice and already tugging his gloves off one-handed. “So,” he says casually, “you doing anything Saturday night after the game?”
I glance over at him, confused by the random question. “Why?”
“Just wondering,” he says with a shrug. “Some of us are heading out. Thought you might want to join.”
“I’ll have to see what’s going on,” I say vaguely, not comfortable hanging out with the team outside of work.
“Fair enough,” Levi says, and he skates away before I can say anything else.
The truth is, I want to experience that again more than I want my next breath—to be part of the team—but I am still not over my injury or my career ending before it even began.
“You good, Coach?” One of our younger players asks as he passes by, noticing I’ve been staring into space for the past minute.
“Fine,” I reply. “Just thinking.”
Once Thomas ends training, I’m almost relieved to be out of here, and I plan to have a quiet night in. I head to my office, needing a break from the chaos I can hear coming from the locker room.
My phone buzzes on the desk with a message from Maskedsnack.
Maskedsnack
Are you free Saturday night?
#Notaserialkiller
Maybe. Why?
Maskedsnack
I’m planning something and I’d really like you to be a part of it. No pressure if you’re not interested, but I think you’d enjoy it.
#Notaserialkiller
What kind of something?
