Pucking Only (Night Hawks Hockey #2)

Chapter Five Meet the Team

CHAPTER FIVE: MEET THE TEAM

SKYLER

I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, completely unable to sleep. All I can think about is Carson. I hadn’t expected to see him again so soon after arriving in Denver. It’s been so long…between college and our vastly different careers that our paths haven’t crossed in years.

Seeing him again has left me feeling more rattled than I would like. He was always attractive, but he seems even more handsome than I remember. He’s put more muscle on his tall frame. His blue eyes are stunning, more piercing than is fair. If he were any other man, I’d have been all over him.

However, he’s still the same old asshole I grew up with.

Infuriating, arrogant, and all-too-aware of how good looking he is.

Rolling to my side, I hug one of the pillows against my chest and squeeze my eyes shut, willing the room to stop spinning and my mind to stop thinking about Carson. Try as I might, I just can’t push him from my mind. Our bickering earlier got me heated…in more ways than one.

I’m tingling between my legs. I have been since I first laid eyes on Carson in the apartment doorway. The tingling only intensified as the evening progressed. Now it’s a persistent sensation I can’t ignore. Because of the alcohol rushing through my system, I don’t really have the fortitude to resist.

With a growl of frustration, I roll onto my back again and hit my fists against the mattress on either side of me.

“Carson, you bastard,” I hiss into the darkness.

With a groan of defeat, I plunge my hand down into my panties and press my fingers against my clit. I whimper as I begin rubbing tight circles over my clit. My eyes close and all I can see in my mind is Carson. I imagine him standing over me, watching as I play with myself.

“Need a hand?” he asks as his eyes glint with mischief and blatant hunger.

Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, imaginary Carson puts a knee on the bed and crawls over me. He reaches up a hand and pulls my lip free from my teeth.

“What a naughty girl you are, Star. Thinking of me when you’re touching your sweet little pussy. Wishing I was really here to fuck you into oblivion.”

“Son of a bitch,” I groan as I move my fingers faster.

Pleasure unfurls deep in my belly and spreads throughout my body. I curl the fingers of my free hand into the bedsheets as I arch my hips. More…I need more.

I can already tell my own hand isn’t going to be enough, but I’m not going to stop now. I’m so close, and I need this release so bad. It’ll take the edge off. Maybe I’ll be able to think straight and relieve some of my frustration.

“Will it?” fantasy Carson whispers in my ear. “What if you wake up still thinking of me. Wishing it was my hand between your legs? What will you do then? Just keep playing with yourself over and over again? It’s just not going to be enough. Not until it’s me.”

My breathing grows heavy until I’m panting with need .

“I don’t want it to be you,” I insist in a low voice, even as I continue to furiously rub my clit.

“Don’t lie to yourself,” he murmurs, and I can almost feel his fingers grazing my arm. “Oh, but you really do, Star. You want my mouth on you, devouring your core. You want my thick cock pushing deep inside you, taking you like the naughty girl you know you are.”

This is so messed up, but I can’t stop. I’m undulating my hips and thrashing my head back and forth. I’m getting closer and closer to my peak. Just a little bit more…

“Come on, baby,” Carson orders. “Come on your fingers while thinking of me.”

For some reason, that pushes me over the edge. I throw back my head and let out a breathless cry as my orgasm sweeps through me.

When it’s over, I release a long breath and let my body relax into my bed. I feel calmer. Imaginary Carson isn’t teasing me anymore, so that’s a plus. It’s a good thing that imaginary Carson is way better than the real thing. I really needed that release. I’m sure it wasn’t even the idea of Carson that brought this on. I haven’t even had time for a casual fling since I started working for Code Kickers which is unusual for me. I’m typically able to procure at least a quick hook-up with relative ease. I’ve been pent-up, and that’s just made me sensitive to any semi-attractive man I come across…including Carson.

What just happened was a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.

“All right, are you ready for this? ”

I glance over at Grace, who’s once again behind the wheel of her car. She has an amused grin spread across her face. “It’s not like it’s the first day of school or something. I’m just going to meet the rest of the Night Hawks and watch a practice. That’s all.”

Stopping at a red light, Grace looks away from the road over at me. She’s driving us to the stadium for my first day observing the team. She’s nervous, as if she wants to make sure a good impression is made. I’m not sure if she wants me to make a good impression, or the team.

“I know,” she says, turning her gaze forward again and chuckling softly. “I just want everything to go smoothly for you. I love the team, but the guys can be a bit rough now and then.”

“Grace, come on,” I say, smirking. “This is me, remember? I’m all about rough and dirty. If our history is accurate then you’re the one who refused to get to know any hockey players, let alone an entire team. Thank goodness you had me to talk some sense into you and that Jensen and I were able to pull that stick out of your ass.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what? You’re right… you’re going to fit right in with those animals.”

I laugh. “Exactly. It’s going to be fun.”

When Grace and I arrive at the stadium, I'm struck by its impressive and modern exterior. It’s a sleek structure of steel and glass that stands out against the city skyline. The facade is made up of large glass panels.The entrance is framed by massive steel beams that arch overhead, creating a sense of grandeur as we walk beneath them. Above the main entrance, a giant digital screen displays highlights from recent games as well as information about the upcoming games.

A plaza extends from the front entrance. The path is lined with statues of who I’m assuming are noteworthy players of the past. Surrounding the stadium are well-manicured gardens and walkways with trees and shrubs adding a touch of greenery to the urban setting.

Grace leads me in through the team entrance. We stop at security to get me a temporary badge so I can come and go with ease. Once we’re finished with that process, Grace turns to me with a wide, if somewhat nervous smile.

"Ready to meet the team?" she asks.

"Let’s do this," I reply with a nod.

We make our way down a long, wide corridor toward the locker room and coaches offices.

“Hang out here for a second,” Grace says when we’re standing outside an office with the words ‘Coach Sullivan’ emblazoned on a plaque on the door. “Let me text Jensen and tell him we’re here, and he’ll grab the coach for us.”

“Okay,” I nod.

She pulls out her phone and sends a quick message. Within moments, Jensen walks out of the locker room and smiles at us. He’s wearing his hockey pants and a form fitting Under Armor shirt that shows off his impressive six pack and pecs. I have to remind myself that he belongs to Grace to keep from staring at him for too long.

“Hey there, ladies,” he says. “Ready to meet everyone?”

“Sure are, handsome,” Grace purrs, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him in for a lingering kiss. I clear my throat to remind them they’re not alone. Grace pulls back from him, a blush staining her cheeks. “Will you go get the coach for us?”

“You got it, sweetheart,” he replies. He swats her ass as he moves past her on his way into the coach’s office.

“You two are real sluts for each other,” I sigh.

Grace beams at me. “Yes. Yes we are.”

Standing in the hallway, I'm hit by a mix of sweat, leather, and fresh ice. I can hear a commotion coming from the locker room just a few doors down and assume the team is gearing up for practice. Jensen returns a few moments later with a tall, burly looking man with a creased forehead and rudy cheeks.

“Skyler, this is Coach Sullivan,” Jensen says. “Coach, this is Grace’s best friend, Skyler McKenzie.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Skyler,” Coach Sullivan says with a nod. “We’re excited to have you here. The guys are all looking forward to meeting you.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting them, Coach,” I reply with a smile.

“I’ll go in and make sure everyone’s decent,” Coach continues. “Then you can come in and meet everyone before they hit the ice for practice.”

“Sounds good,” I nod. I so want to make a comment about getting my own private peep show in the locker room. But, I bite my tongue and remind myself to stay professional.

Coach moves past us into the locker room. After kissing Grace on the cheek, Jensen follows close behind. Grace and I wait a few minutes before the coach comes back to give us the all clear.

“Come on in, ladies,” he says.

We follow him inside. Suddenly, we are surrounded by a herd of large, beefy men. They all turn as Grace and I enter the room. At first, I think they’re going to swarm us like a pack of wolves. Instead, they’re more like a pack of puppies, gazing down at me with wide-eyed curiosity and excitement. Grace starts introducing me to everyone. Four of the guys stand out from the rest of the team. When Grace introduces them, her tone takes on a more familiar tone.

"Skyler, this is Zander, Cruz, Wilder, and Jayce," she says, pointing to each player in turn. “They’re the starters, along with Carson and Jensen. Wilder plays left wing, Jayce plays right wing, Cruz left defense, and Zander is right defense.”

I don’t know what the hell any of that means, but I nod, smile and pretend like I do. I’m much more interested in the fact that all four are just as big and good looking as Carson and Jensen.

Cruz looks like a buffer, hairier version of Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid with his black hair and blue eyes. Wilder looks just like his name suggests - a little wild. His hair is long and curly, like his beard. I could totally see him chopping down a tree in the middle of a mountain forest while wearing flannel and one of those floppy winter hats. Jayce is leaner than the others. He’s got blond hair and deep blue eyes. I’m getting real California surfer guy vibes from him. It is a little strange since he’s a hockey player in Denver, AKA, Satan’s frozen butthole. Finally, there’s Zander. He particularly stands out because he looks like fucking Thor after he got the haircut. His green eyes are stunning. His dark hair is short and neatly styled. His beard closely trimmed.

He smiles as he steps forward.

"Nice to meet you, Skyler," he says, shaking my hand firmly. "Grace told us you’re here to learn more about the sport."

"Yes, I’m from Code Kickers , and we’re developing a hockey-themed game, so I’m here to get more insight into the game," I explain. “Get some hands-on experience, so to speak.”

Jeez, since when do I speak like a corporate robot, and why is this guy making me so nervous? Yeah, he’s big and hot and that megawatt smile does funny things to my insides, but…wait, where was I going with this train of thought?

"Oh, man, I’m a huge fan of Code Kickers,” Zander declares, surprising me. “I’ve played Zombie Dance III like five times. I can’t get enough of it. ”

“That’s one of my favorites too!” I exclaim. “I helped with character behaviors on that one. It was my first project I was assigned. I put a lot of hours at the tail-end of development for that Box release. It was worth it. The gameplay was some of our best work!”

Zander gives me a wide smile and leans slightly into my touch. “It’s so cool that you’re here. I’d, uh, be happy to help you however I can. If you need any specific information or have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I appreciate that,” I say, my lips curling into a grin. Zander is hot…really hot. He’s actually right up my alley with his thick beard and burly build. Plus, he’s a gamer? Sploosh.

“You can ask me anything too, beautiful,” Jayce says, sliding up next to Zander and giving me a wink. “It doesn’t have to be hockey related, either. Whatever comes to your mind. The weather, pop culture, the intricacies of the female anatomy…I’m happy to discuss any topic in depth.”

I chuckle. “That’s good to know.”

“Ignore him,” Wilder groans. “The head on his shoulders is not in charge.”

That makes me laugh. Zander even chuckles as he slaps Jayce on his shoulder good-naturedly.

As I’m standing there talking with Zander, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and I glance over to find Carson and Jensen off to the side of the group. Carson looks irritated. I can’t help but think back to high school. He never wanted me hanging around his friends then, and it seems like that hasn’t changed. I arch my brow at him and turn my attention back to Zander.

“I’ll show you some moves on the ice, if you’d like,” he offers.

"That would be great," I say, smiling. "Thank you."

I shoot a pointed look at Carson, who’s clenching his jaw so hard he’s probably cracking teeth. He doesn’t say a word or try to approach us. I brush off his reaction. If he’s going to be a moody ass, that’s his problem, not mine.

Once the introductions are over, the guys start gearing up for practice. Grace and I leave the locker room and go out to find seats in the stands. The arena is vast and cold, but there’s an undeniable energy in the air.

I pull out my phone to open my notes app. I am ready to jot down my observations and any questions I might have as I watch the team.

As practice begins, I sit back and take in as much of the action as I can. This is so much better than just watching a game on TV or online. I get more insight into the mechanics of the game by listening to Coach Sullivan’s instructions and the exchanges the guys have with each other as they work through drills and plays. It’s a relief to know that I can get my questions answered directly by the team.

I try to focus on Zander. I watch the way he moves on the ice. He has such grace and power. However, despite my best efforts to ignore him, my eyes keep wandering to Carson. I can’t help but notice how impressive he is out there. He moves with a confidence and skill that commands attention. He guards the net like an impenetrable wall.

"Carson’s good," I admit begrudgingly, more to myself than to Grace.

Grace nudges me with a knowing smile. "He’s one of the best, " she says with pride.

I watch as Carson blocks puck after puck with laser-like precision. His focus unbreakable. There’s something about seeing him in his element that stirs a mixture of admiration and frustration within me. I do not want to admit it, but it is undeniable. He is very talented.

The practice continues. I force myself to take notes, jotting down observations and ideas in my phone. No matter how much I try to focus on anyone or anything else, my gaze keeps drifting back to Carson. Frustration blooms within me. I can’t let Carson distract me. I have too much on the line right now. My game, my promotion…my entire career! I’m not going to let Carson Monroe and his stupid, handsome face get in the way of me and my dreams… no matter how difficult it is to pretend he doesn’t exist.