“I was doing my job,” I explain slowly. What’s with the irritation?
“Your job is to guard the goal,” she disputes. “Not to continue to play because your ego is too big to allow you to step back and take care of yourself.”
“That’s what you think I was doing? Playing through it because of my ego?”
“Yes.” She throws up her hands with a growl. “A puck slammed into your thigh hard enough to knock the wind out of you, and you stayed out there anyway. What else am I supposed to think?”
“That I was doing my job,” I repeat. I run a hand through my hair and tug on the roots. “We were up, but the Titans were pressing hard. I wasn’t being reckless or worrying about my ego. I made a calculated decision based on what my team needed and what I could physically handle.”
“You have another goalie,” she points out.
I shrug. “Yeah, but Cavanaugh didn’t let them score on him during the first period. I did. The team can fuck up as a unit, but if I let in a bad goal, that’s on me. I wasn’t going to let my team down when they needed me to step up.”
She studies me, thoughtful, and nods. “Okay. Now show me your leg. Then I’ll drop it.”
I sigh. “Kennedy.”
“Cameron.”
Grumbling, I sit up and tug down my sweatpants. I’m damn stubborn, but I learned early on that Kennedy is worse. I carefully unravel the elastic bandage, then throw my arms out. “Happy?”
She makes a cute little squeak as she takes in the full view. “No, but apparently you are.”
Frowning, I tuck my chin. Oh. My dick is standing at full attention, completely unaware that I’m not undressing for sex. “Yes. Great observation. Ten out of ten, sweetheart.”
She tilts her head, her focus never leaving my body. “In my defense, I thought you’d be wearing briefs. The bruise and boner combo really threw me off.”
“I didn’t expect you to demand I drop trou, so that makes two of us.”
She laughs, the sound sending a wave of affection through me despite the situation.
“All right, lay back down. Let me get a better look.”
“At my dick?”
She rolls her eyes, her mouth falling open. “I’m serious, Cam.”
“So am I.” I toss her a wink, then ease back and relax. “All right, Dr. Caplan, get your fill so I can rewrap.”
On her knees, she shuffles closer, and as she takes in my injury, her expression turns into one of helplessness. With one hand splayed over my abs, she gently rotates my leg with the other so she can get a better look. “Christ, Cameron.”
I cup the back of her neck, dragging my thumb along the soft skin in a soothing motion as she continues to study the bruise.
“Would it help if I told you I’ve had worse?”
“No, definitely not.” She looks up at me through her lashes, blue eyes questioning. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
I shrug. “I mean, yeah, but it’s manageable. You’re more worried about it than I am.”
She nods, almost as if agreeing. “You know what helps with pain?”
“Rest, ice, compression and elevation,” I grumble. I’ve heard this spiel too many times to count throughout my career.
She breaks into a coy smile. “I was going to say orgasms.”
I let out a breath of a laugh.
She trails a hand slowly down my stomach, and that laugh turns into a groan. As her finger traces over the sensitive head of my cock, heat gathers inside me, my breath hitching and my hips jerking forward.
