Puck You, page 24
I was overwhelmed with sensations—the blazing heat of our flesh pressed together, the drop of sweat sliding down my back, Sebastian’s hot breath in my ear as he whispered my name over and over again like I was his favorite prayer.
“Are you up for one more?” Sebastian all but growled the words, and my pussy clenched in anticipation.
“Yes.”
Sebastian’s pace stuttered for a moment and then picked up.
“Then I need you to say the magic words, Grace.”
He was thrusting into me so fast that I could barely keep myself upright, my body wholly reliant on the firm hand gripping my waist to keep from crashing down into the mattress. Through the overwhelming pleasure, I spoke, desperate for release.
“Please make me—ahhh.”
I couldn’t get out the words before Sebastian pressed his finger against my clit, dragging a scream from my throat. My entire body shook as I arched against him and exploded. The orgasm crashed over me in a tremendous wave, sweet bliss rushing through my body as I spasmed around his cock. The force of me clamping around him was all it took for Sebastian to reach his own release. With a groan, his hips stuttered against me three times, and he stilled. We collapsed on the bed, bodies spent, panting to catch our breath. I could feel my pulse between my legs.
For a moment, we lay together in silence, neither of us able to speak. Slowly, Sebastian shifted so that he was facing me.
“Better than studying, right?”
Much better, but now I was completely spent. My body ached deliciously, and the thought of getting up seemed like too much effort. I knew I’d regret not going to the bathroom, though, so I hauled myself into a sitting position and started to gather my clothes.
“I should go home so I can actually get some studying done, and I need a shower,” I murmured.
“Shower here.”
“I need an everything shower, and you definitely don’t have my exfoliating body scrub or deep-conditioning hair mask.”
Sebastian didn’t argue as I pulled on my clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Just out of curiosity, I pulled back his shower curtain and looked inside the tub. It was just as clean as the rest of his space, with several female-looking products tucked into the back corner. Were those for me, or were they from his previous relationship? Things between us were so casual at this point that I didn’t think it was right to ask about Kate, but that didn’t stop me from wondering about her.
Sebastian was half dressed when I finally emerged from the bathroom, a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
“You got a call from Matt when you were in the bathroom,” he said, handing me my phone.
I froze at the sound of my ex-boyfriend’s name. “You spoke to him?”
“No. But he called twice.”
Sebastian said nothing more, but I could read the discomfort in his body language. He stood with both hands shoved into the pockets of his pants to keep from fidgeting, his brow furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. After a long moment of tense silence, he asked, “Are you seeing other people?”
I would have thought he was joking if it weren’t for the low growl in his voice. “When would I have time to see anyone else?”
“You want to keep this casual, and that’s fine with me, but we clearly need to define some boundaries. I don’t sleep with more than one person at a time, and I don’t like to share.”
“I only want to sleep with you.”
A hint of familiar smugness flickered across his face. “This Matt guy, I don’t have to worry about him?”
“No,” I said carefully, hesitant to approach my next admission “But I should probably mention that he’s my ex-boyfriend.”Tension crept back into the bedroom at once, filling the space between us with a sense of tangible uncertainty.
“You keep in touch?” He asked cooly.
“On and off,” I admitted. “We were friends before anything else, but the romantic part of our relationship is over.”
His shoulders visibly relaxed, one hand retreating from his pocket to rub the back of his neck. “Is there anything you want to know about Kate?”
Sebastian’s words left me momentarily speechless, and though I should have said no, I couldn’t deny that I was curious about his previous relationship. It only took a few long seconds for my resolve to break. “Do you miss her? You two were together for a while . . .”
“I miss her sometimes,” he said truthfully, never looking away from me, “but not in the way you’re thinking. Kate showed up for me at my lowest moment. I don’t love her anymore, but I love what she did for me.”
I couldn’t lie to myself, hearing those words stung a little. This is supposed to be casual, I reminded myself. Why should his past matter when this was just a bit of fun?
“We weren’t right for each other. It took meeting you for me to realize that,” Sebastian added, as if sensing my disappointment, the very disappointment I was trying to convince myself I shouldn’t feel. He strode forward and placed his hands on my hips, dragging me into the warmth of his chest.“There’s something else I need to say,” he whispered into my hair. “I’m sorry—for everything. I was selfish. I didn’t want you anywhere near DuLane because from the moment I saw you, I wanted you. I don’t like feeling out of control.”
Was Sebastian trying to make things more difficult for me?
“So you’re saying that you were mean to me because you liked me? That is such playground behavior,” I joked, desperate to get back to our normal, teasing dynamic.
He chuckled. “It was stupid. You make me stupid.”
Knowing that Sebastian had liked me from the beginning only made things more complicated. How long could we keep things casual? Don’t overthink it, Grace. Let things happen. It was Sam’s voice, urging me to let go of my worries.
“Thank you for telling me that. I forgive you.”
Sebastian placed a tender kiss on my forehead. I melted into his touch, allowing the stress to leave my body, but his next words sent a jolt of panic rushing through me.
“Do you want to stay the night?”
Don’t you dare freak out, I told myself. “It’s big step, right? I thought we were keeping things casual.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me, Grace. You’re always going back and forth between our places. Wouldn’t it be easier to stay here every now and then? Don’t you want to?”
Of course I did—that was the problem. If I started treating this thing with Sebastian like a real relationship, I was bound to develop real feelings. The lovesick, heartbreak-inducing type.
“Maybe next time. Is that okay?”
“Let me walk you home at least.”
“Absolutely not.”
We both knew that if he walked me home, he’d end up in my bed.
“At least text me when you get there.” Sebastian pulled me back into his arms for another goodbye kiss. This one was much longer and much deeper than our last. I had no doubt he was attempting to distract me from leaving. When Sebastian’s tongue met mine, I pulled away breathlessly, scared that I’d fall victim to his antics.
“You’ll survive without me, I promise.”
“Let yourself out,” he told me, nodding toward the bedroom door. “If I follow you downstairs, I’ll likely follow you home.”
Sebastian held up my coat, and I slipped into the heavy material. My backpack quickly followed as he secured the straps over my shoulders. I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder as I was leaving. Sometimes, all it took was one smoldering look from that boy and I was in deep trouble.
Chapter 18
Sebastian
“Watch those edges, Sebastian. You’re not deep enough. I need to see more power as you push off!”
I was sick and tired of hearing my name being shouted across the ice. Coach Dawson had been hounding me all practice, scrutinizing my every move. It did nothing to ease the dull twinge in my knee that had set in on Sunday morning in the wake of our back-to-back matches against Omaha. A full day of rest was not enough to ease the inflammation, and after two days of practice, the pain had gotten worse. But I was determined to push through. The last thing I needed was time off the ice to rest, especially given the uncertainty surrounding my future with Detroit. I felt a little more hopeless each day that passed without word from Duncan.
Despite my best efforts to fly under the radar all practice, I could feel eyes on me. Grace had been watching me closely from the moment we hit the ice, as if she could sense something was wrong. For the third time today, she cut in front of me and spoke in a quiet tone so the coaches didn’t hear us talking.
“What’s wrong? And don’t tell me it’s nothing. You’re favoring your right side.”
Damn her for being so perceptive.
“Can’t take you eyes off me, can you?” I quipped, flashing a broad smile in an attempt to dissuade her concern. Unfortunately, my words seemed to have the opposite effect. Grace crossed her arms over her chest like she was gearing up to give me a scolding.
“It’s just a little dull pain,” I admitted, looking around to make sure no one else was close enough to hear. “Nothing to worry about. I don’t want to make things worse.”
“Then you should rest.”
I scoffed at the suggestion. “That’s not going to happen. We play Denver this weekend. They’re easily our biggest competition this year.”
“If you want to be in your best shape for that game, practicing on a sore knee won’t help,” she insisted, and a few our teammates shot glances our way.
“Don’t mom me,” I warned in a low tone. “I’m capable of knowing my limits.”
I didn’t wait around for Grace to tell me off, not when other people had begun to notice our whispered conversation. Instead, I fell back into line behind Kent and prepared for another round of drills. For the remainder of practice, Grace kept her distance, though I could feel her worried glances from across the ice. Knowing both she and Coach Dawson were scrutinizing my every move, I pushed through the pain and finally managed a perfect run through our transitioning and attacking drill. By the time we exited the rink at the end of the hour, the dull throb in my knee had progressed to a steady thrum. I held back a wince as I collapsed onto the bench. I barely had a moment to breathe when Grace was upon me, her helmet nestled between her side and her arm, one gloved hand clasped over the edge of the barrier of the rink.
“Taylor’s coming to take a look at that knee,” she said matter-of-factly.
I held back a snarl of frustration at the clear concern etched into Grace’s eyes. She was doing was she thought was right, but bringing in the head trainer was unnecessary. Pain after an injury like mine was normal occurrence. I couldn’t expect to feel in perfect form all the time.
“Don’t meddle. I’m fine,” I insisted.
“Do you trust me?”
An answer came to me without an ounce of hesitation.
“Yes.”
“Then let her look at your knee,” she pleaded, and I was prepared to put up a fight until I heard the fear in her tone. “Please, do it for me.”
“Fine.”
Begrudgingly, I stripped off my gear and folded my socks down to reveal the swollen skin around my knee. Grace let out a dramatic gasp, leaning forward to get a better look. I was seconds away from receiving a lecture when a formidable woman stepped into the players bench. My body was seized by a brief sense of panic at the sight of the middle-aged head trainer. I’d endured countless hours working through torturous exercises with Taylor throughout my recovery period. We’d spent the second half of the previous season working together on a daily basis. While I was thankful for everything she’d done to help me recover, I wasn’t thrilled to see her. She placed her kit on the bench beside me and gave me a cautious smile.
“I hear you’ve been favoring one knee this week,” she said in way of greeting.
Taylor had a built-in bullshit detector, so there was no use in lying. I immediately dove into an explanation of my pain, giving an overview of when it had started and how it had progressed. She assessed the knee with careful eyes. After having me extend it, she felt around the swollen area and asked if I had any pain to the touch. Grace remained by my side, watching carefully as Taylor ran her tests.
“I don’t think it’s anything to be worried about: some inflammation is expected after the severity of your injury. I want you to go back to some of the basic exercises you did when you first started recovery—bridging, calf raises, hip abductions. In the meantime, I’m going to give you a cortisone shot to help with the pain, but I want you to sit out of practice tomorrow.”
That was not going to happen.
“I’ll do the exercises and the shot, but we have an important game coming up. I can’t miss practice.”
“You can and you will,” said Grace, moving to stand beside Taylor. “Missing one practice won’t affect your game. It will give you time to get that swelling down.”
The head trainer gave Grace an appreciative nod.
“You should listen to her, Sebastian. She also happens to be one of the best players this institution has ever seen.”
When I met Grace’s eyes, all the fight left in me vanished. She had no idea how much power she had over me.
“Fine.”
I sounded like a broken record at this point.
Taylor led us down to the recovery room, where she began to prepare a shot for my knee. To kill time, Grace poured herself an ice bath and stripped down to her sports bra and compression shorts. Before getting in, she slowly bent over to place her phone on the ground, sending me a wicked smirk over her shoulder.
“Ice that knee, but you shouldn’t do full submersion for a few days,” Taylor instructed.
After administering the shot, she packed up her things and gave me a stern talking-to about listening to my body. The entire time, Grace had a death grip on the edge of the tub, her eyes squeezed closed as she breathed through the overwhelming cold.
“Please distract me,” she gasped as soon as Taylor left room, and I could hear the pain in her voice.
“I’m not sure I should get naked here. Anyone could walk in.”
She scoffed. “That didn’t stop you in the locker room.”
“You were naked as well, so I couldn’t think straight.”
“Distract me,” she pleaded. “I need to stop thinking about how cold this damn water is. Tell me about one of your favorite hockey moments. Tell me about your favorite goal, I don’t care. Just distract me.”
The memory came to my mind without a second thought, an image of a crowded arena and the sound of a raging crowd flooding my senses. I was immediately transported back in time to my youth hockey days.
“After my dad died, when it was just me and my mom, there was no money for me to join a traveling team. But when she married my stepdad, everything changed. I went from playing in house leagues to making the Chicago Fury U12 team.”
From that moment on, training became intense. Hockey went from my hobby to my entire world. Even as a kid, I needed to be better than everyone. I worked my ass off and promised myself that I would be the best.
“When I was thirteen, we won the CCM Denver Dash. I remember taking off my bucket and gazing around the arena after the final buzzer rang. I’d never felt larger than life until that win. And then suddenly, I was looking at my dad in the crowd. The pride on his face, the pure amazement, it was like nothing I’d ever experienced.”
I could feel my heartbeat in my ears just thinking about that day.
“It was the first time I’d seen him since he died. My mom always said that he came to her at random times, like in the grocery store or outside in our old backyard. If I’m honest, I thought she was delusional. But it finally happened to me, and it didn’t take much to realize the significance of him appearing at that very moment.”
My chest deflated as I let out a long breath.
“The first year or so after his death, I felt a bit of resentment toward hockey. He was the one who’d taught me to love the sport, and then he was gone. But seeing his face in the crowd and knowing that he was there for my first big win helped reignite my passion. Being on the ice and playing hockey is how I honor his memory.”
I’d never told anyone that before, not even my own mother. The memory was sacred, like it was only for me to have. But with Grace, there was no hesitation. I wanted her to know why I was so dedicated to hockey. Maybe it could help her understand why I’d been such an asshole when we’d met.
My mind drifted back to the training room at the sound of sloshing water, as if waking up from a dream. Grace was watching me from the tub with wide eyes and blue-tinged lips. She’d been in the water too long.
“You should get out,” I said gently, reaching for a towel from the shelf above her and holding it out. Slowly, she pulled herself from the freezing water and stepped onto the mat. I placed the towel around her shoulders and pulled her against me.
“I didn’t know,” she said, turning around to face me. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears. “I didn’t know that your father died. I don’t really know anything about your family, if I’m being honest.”
“This is new, Grace. You’re not supposed to know everything about me.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me.” Grace shivered, her teeth rattling as she spoke. Once again, I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her to share some warmth.
“How old were you when he died?” she asked.
“I was nine. He died in an ice fishing accident.”
“I get it now,” she said, her breath warm against my neck as she spoke. “I can see how much you love hockey, how hard you work for it, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
It was a rhetorical question. We both already knew the truth. I loved hockey more than anything, but it was more than just a passion for the sport that drove me to be the best. Every time I was out on that ice, it brought me closer to my father and the dream that he gave up to raise me. All of this was for him—maybe even more than it was for me.
