“Today.”
“Today’s full.”
I stepped into the office.
He blinked and made a note. “I’ll send someone up right away. We’ll get it sorted.”
I nodded and left, heading to the locker room, where I suited up for practice. After three grueling hours, we took a break. I went to the equipment room for spare mouthguards.
My skate guards thudding on the floor, I passed the computer supply room along the way.
I spotted Haley inside and came to a stop, peering through the glass.
I opened the door and stepped inside. The computer room smelled like dust and warm electronics.
Haley had wedged herself between a shelf unit and a cart and was reaching for something on the top shelf. She stretched, her fingers brushing a flat rectangular case nearly out of reach.
I crossed the space in quick strides. “Let me.”
She startled, turning fast enough that her shoulder hit my chest. “I just need to…” She reached past me again for the drive, her arm crossing in front of my chest. She leaned, rising on her toes. The movement brought her close enough that I could smell her shampoo, faint and floral.
She paused, looking up at me.
I didn’t decide to kiss her. I decided not to stop the thing that was already happening.
Her mouth met mine and the rest of the room disappeared. She made a soft sound, and I swallowed it. I lifted my hand to the back of her neck, tilting her head to deepen the angle.
She tasted like coffee and vanilla.
My tongue found hers, and she opened for me. One of my tusks caught her lower lip and she gasped, the sound going straight to my cock. I forgot where we were, everything but what we were doing.
Her back hit the shelf behind her, and I followed, pressing my body against hers.
She pulled me closer, holding me like she’d thought about this as much as I had.
When I finally pulled back, she blinked up at me, her lips swollen, her eyes dark.
I stepped away fast, putting distance between us that felt both inadequate and necessary at the same time.
She straightened her skirt. Her blouse. Rebuilt the professional version of herself I’d sent into disarray.
I lifted the drive off the shelf and handed it to her.
“Thanks for grabbing that.” The husky tone in her voice shot through my body, centering in my groin. I’d made her sound like that.
“Yes,” I said.
We left the room. She went toward her office. I went toward the equipment room, where I grabbed three mouth guards from the bin marked with my name.
I made it back to the ice before the full weight of what I’d done hit me.
I’d kissed the coach’s daughter. In the computer room where anyone could have walked in.
Then I stepped out onto the ice and played the cleanest hockey I’d managed since arriving in Boston.
Apparently I played better when I was furious with myself.
Practice was a methodical thing. Positioning drills. Gap control. Breakout patterns we’d run until they became automatic. I tracked every player on the ice, noting where they were and where they’d be. The patterns formed and dissolved around me.
