Power Pucking Play (Chicago Blades)

7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Gio

I t's four-fifty-five a.m., and I'm already on my third cup of espresso. Whoever said "the early bird gets the worm" clearly never had to deal with a nosy reporter first thing in the morning.

I hear a car pull up outside my house. Right on time. I gotta hand it to Brookes—she's punctual, I'll give her that.

The doorbell rings, and I pad over, still in my T-shirt and sweats from last night.

I take a deep breath before answering, mentally preparing myself for the onslaught of questions and cameras that are sure to follow.

But when I open the door, it's just Brookes standing there.

"Morning, sunshine," I drawl, leaning against the doorframe.

Lexi stands there, looking way too put together for this ungodly hour. "De Luca," she nods, her lips curving into a smirk.

"You sure you're ready for this?"

She holds up her recorder. "Ready as I'll ever be."

I step back to let her in, and she breezes past me into the house. I catch a whiff of her perfume as she brushes past me, and I have to remind myself not to let my guard down.

She may be beautiful, but she's also dangerous.

As she enters the foyer, Lexi's hazel gaze takes in the enormity of the space. "Nice place you've got here.

"Thanks."

"Do your trophies have their own room, or do they just sleep in the bed with you?"

"Cute," I mutter, closing the front door. "Coffee's in the kitchen if you want some. I’ll have my assistant pack up a breakfast sandwich for me, but if you want one, you can grab it now."

Lexi lets one blonde eyebrow arch. "Since when do you play the gracious host?"

"Just trying to start things off on the right foot. Make yourself at home. Try not to drool on my furniture while I get changed."

I head to my bedroom, grabbing my gym clothes. When I come back out, Lexi's perched on a barstool, sipping coffee and scribbling in her notebook.

"Already taking notes? What, did my coffee maker reveal all my deep, dark secrets?"

She doesn't even look up. "Just documenting your clear addiction to caffeine. Seriously, how many espresso machines does one person need?"

I shrug, grabbing my gym bag. "One for each day of the week. Keeps things interesting."

"Uh-huh," she says, finally meeting my eyes. "So, what's on the agenda for today, Mr. Early Bird?"

"Gym, practice, team meeting. Try to keep up, Brookes."

"So, this is your routine, huh? Wake up at the butt crack of dawn, work out like a maniac, and then go play hockey?"

"That's the gist of it." I eye her, taking in her demure blouse and business skirt. "Beats sitting in an office all day."

"So, I'm guessing you've never wanted a normal nine-to-five job? Something stable and predictable?"

"No way. I love the rush of playing hockey. It's what I was born to do."

"And, of course, your sister, who works as Head of PR for your team, has been supportive of your decision to pursue a less conventional career?"

"She understands it. She supports me. Just as I support her in her career choices."

"And your parents?"

I tense, my grip on the gym bag tightening. "They're...aware of what I do." I brush off thoughts of Mom and Pop, grabbing my keys from the counter. "Ready to go?"

As we head out to my car, I can feel Lexi's eyes on me as I toss my bag in the back.

"What?" I ask, turning to face her.

She smirks. "Nothing. Just wondering if your car is compensating for something."

I glance at my sleek, black sports car and then back to her. "Original. Did you stay up all night thinking of that one?"

"Nah, it just came to me. Must be all that caffeine kicking in."

"As you're well aware, I have no need to compensate for anything." I look down at my nether region and when I look back up I find her eyes are also focused there.

She quickly looks back up and realizes she's been caught. She rolls her eyes and turns on her heels, opening the passenger door and sliding in.

The drive to the gym is mercifully short. As we pull into the parking lot, I notice Lexi fidgeting with her notebook.

"Nervous, Brookes?" I tease. "Don't worry. I'll go easy on you."

"Don't you worry. Easy has never been my thing." She smirks, grabbing her bag from the trunk.

I shake my head and lead the way into the gym. Inside, I head straight for the locker room, grabbing a towel. Lexi follows close behind, pulling out her notebook and pen, and I turn to her, brows furrowing.

"Uh, I'm sorry, did you plan on joining me in the locker room?"

"Relax, I just need to take some notes for the article," she says, flipping open her notebook and scribbling something down.

"You do realize there are cameras everywhere in here, right?"

"Of course. And that's why I'm standing at a discreet distance." She flashes me a charming smile. But when I don't return it, she sighs and holds her place in the notebook with her pen. "This isn't my first rodeo, Giovanni. I've been in plenty of locker rooms before. This is just part of the job."

I smirk. "You mean a perk of the job, right?"

"Do you struggle getting out of doorways with that big head of yours?"

I laugh, heading over to a bench where I set my gym bag down.

I strip off my shirt, feeling the chill of the air against my skin, and put on a show as I reach for my gym clothes. Lexi’s eyes dart between her notebook and me, clearly trying to maintain her professional composure.

"So, Giovanni," she says in a formal tone, pen poised, “what do you think sets you apart from other athletes?”

I chuckle, my gaze steady on her. “Well, for starters, I’m not afraid to give the audience a good show.”

I can see her cheeks get slightly pink, as I reach inside the waistband of my sweatpants, lowering them. Lexi's eyes sweep over the bulge in my boxer shorts and she swallows hard.

I keep going. "But really, I think it's a combination of dedication and natural talent. And being able to perform under pressure."

Her pen scribbles quickly, as if the speed of her note taking will help her regain some of her lost composure. “How do you deal with pressure during competitions?”

I take my time pulling on my gym shorts, letting the silence stretch between us. "It helps to know when to turn the heat up," I smirk, watching her squirm just a bit more. “And when to put on a little show for my fans. But ultimately, it’s about staying focused and trusting in my training and abilities.”

I can't help but enjoy this.

Putting her on the spot seems almost too easy.

But then she surprises me with her next question. “What about outside of the gym? How do you handle the pressure of being in the public eye?”

I pause for a moment, considering my answer carefully. "Honestly, it can be tough at times. There's always someone watching and judging your every move. But I try to stay true to myself and remember that I'm human too. Taking time for myself and having a strong support system also helps keep me grounded."

She nods, scribbling down my words. I catch a glimpse of her notes as she shifts her notebook slightly – “humanizing” and “support system”.

"And, uh, does this support system happen to include anyone special?" she asks.

Her shoulders are held tightly underneath her blouse, her blonde hair falling in front of her face. She doesn't look back up at me, but I can see the blush creeping up her neck.

I grin. "I have a great group of friends and family who support me, but as for someone special...well, I'll keep that private."

I can tell she wants to press for more, but she simply nods.

I glance down at her notes. "Guess being single and eligible doesn't make for good headlines?"

Lexi clears her throat. “No, just…personal and up-close details are important for the article. You know, audiences love a good romance angle.”

I nod, putting on my shirt and grabbing my bag. “Sure. Whatever floats your boat.”

She closes her notebook with a snap, and this time, her hazel eyes lift to stare steadily back at me. "You know what would help me sleep at night, Mr. De Luca?"

"And what would that be, Miss Brookes?"

"If you would take my questions seriously, and stop trying to find an angle to make me uncomfortable."

I laugh, the sound echoing quietly off the white locker room walls. "Oh, I don't have to find angles to make you uncomfortable, Miss Brookes. You're capable of doing that all on your own."

"And why would you think that?"

"Because you know more up-and-close details about my, uh, ‘romance angle’ than most anyone else..."

I watch her reaction. The blush deepens, and my memories brush over that particular night.

How hard I made her come. The way she gasped my name, our breaths mingling in the heated haze of passion.

It was supposed to just be a fling, a distraction in the midst of chaos. But now those memories play in my mind like a favorite song stuck on repeat. Even if I keep pushing them out.

I lean against the cool metal of the locker, the swirling memories pulling me back to that reckless, intoxicating night.

That night, she was everything.

Responsive. Vocal. Utterly captivating as we spiraled into one another.

I remember the heat of her skin, slick and warm beneath my tongue. I remember how she couldn't muffle her cries that filled the room.

The moment she'd come alive beneath me, eyes wide and brilliant, every tremor and gasp echoing my own thrill of conquest.

Her taste...

Hell, I'll never forget it. Addictive as hell. Just like the woman who climaxed all over my tongue.

Then came the second act, when I slid the condom on and lifted her shapely legs over my shoulders.

Her pussy welcomed me, clenching fiercely as I thrust deep, losing myself to the blissful chaos.

The way her breasts quivered, mesmerizing in their movement, as she shattered around me—uninhibited, passionate—is a vision that refuses to fade from my mind.

It's a dangerous game, this dance with memory and desire.

The sensation of Lexi's warm walls tightening around me. The sight of her flushed skin. Those perfect breasts swaying with every thrust.

Each moment seems somehow embedded in my soul.

Even now, I can feel her warmth enveloping me, a haunting reminder of the connection we only shared for one night. It’s a song that I've been thinking about playing again. Even though I know I shouldn't.

Snapped from my musings, I glance up just as Lexi sighs heavily—her frustration evident on her pretty face, and I realize this interview isn’t just about capturing the essence of my life.

It’s a battleground where I can push her buttons and regain control. As a sports journalist, Lexi Brookes has almost always had the upper hand.

But this time, I’m not playing her game. She's playing mine.

“Tell me, Lexi,” I lean closer, lowering my voice slightly, “do those personal details include what happened that night, or is that just for your own personal archives?”

The corners of my mouth twitch upward as I see her defensiveness rise.

Closing her notebook, Lexi stands abruptly. “You know what, Mr. De Luca? I think that's enough for this segment of the interview. Why don't we take a break and come back to this later?”

I place my gym bag in my locker, closing the metal door shut with a clang. “Of course, Miss Brookes. I’ll be waiting.” I give her a sly wink as she storms out of the locker room, her heels clicking loudly against the tile floor.