Pucking Revenge : A Fake dating, friends to lovers, hockey romance (The Revenge Games Book 2)

“BROOKS, when Florida scored, you didn’t seem nearly as upset as we’d expect. Not when you were so close to a shutout. Can we assume that’s because of the woman in the stands you pointed at?”

I’m not at all surprised by the question from the reporter in the back. The guys have been ribbing me about it since we got off the ice.

I was pissed. But they’re right. Somehow looking up and seeing Sara wearing my jersey, screaming her head off, eased that anger. Made me smile. The girl is nuts. Certifiable. And if she asked me to, I’d join her in a straitjacket. I’m fucking obsessed.

I arch a brow at her now. She’s standing off to the side, overseeing as usual. When she doesn’t direct me to stay quiet, I look back to the reporter and go with the truth. “What can I say? I’m crazy about her.”

“Could you give us her name? How long have you been dating? Is it serious?” The questions hit me one after another, each from a different reporter around the room.

Naturally, that’s when Coach steps in front of me. “No more questions. We’ll see you in Denver.”

Sara worries her lip and tilts her face down.

He kept her a secret. Hidden from the light.

Fuck it.

I make a beeline for her. I don’t have to answer the question to show the world exactly who she is and how proud I am that she’s mine.

Her eyes are wide as I approach, that lip still caught between her teeth, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face and a pleased blush creeping up her neck. I pull her against my chest and cup her neck with both hands, caressing the underside of her jaw with my thumbs. And then I dip down and press my lips against hers.

Sara makes a surprised little yelp, and my dick jumps. She doesn’t pull away, thank fuck, and when I deepen the kiss, she sighs into my mouth and melts against me.

I didn’t mean for our first kiss to happen in front of a room full of reporters and while we’re both technically working, but I couldn’t wait a second longer.

I slip my tongue between her lips and tease hers, and that’s all it takes. She smiles against my mouth, and then she’s kissing me back. Her soft lips, the taste of her, sugary sweet just as I knew she’d be, make this the best kiss of my life. Not that I’m surprised. Sara’s the best thing to ever happen to me. A year ago, my days were nothing but gray skies and ice and hockey pucks. Dull and monochromatic. But with her crazy one-liners, her taste in music, the truly insane things that happen to her and the way she reacts, and her damn smile, she’s brought a rainbow of color to my life.

When she pulls back, I follow, pressing kiss after drugging kiss against her mouth. Sweet little nips at her lips because I truly can’t get enough.

She giggles and pushes against my chest, her blue eyes shining with wonder. “Everyone is staring.”

“Good. Then they know you’re mine. Come on, crazy girl. Let’s get out of here before I get carried away and give them a completely different kind of show.”

I tuck her beneath my arm and guide her out of the pressroom, head held high.

When we pass Gavin, he pats me on the shoulder. “Great game tonight.”

“Thanks.” I turn my attention back to Sara. “We going out?” It’s the last thing I want to do, but since Lennox is in town, Sara will want to hang out with her.

She blinks up at me, lips swollen and parted. I should kiss her more often. “Um,” she finally says, like she’s finding her voice again. “Lennox left after Jill made a scene. So that’s up to you.”

“Do you want to go out?”

She nibbles on her lip and shakes her head. “No. Not really.”

I jostle her gently, forcing her even closer to me. “What do you want to do?”

“I think I might want to kiss you again,” she breathes out. She tips her head back and studies me, an adorable crease between her brows like she’s surprised by her admission.

My cheeks burn in response. I’m just as surprised, and my damn heart is tripping over itself. So I push her up against the wall in the hallway outside the pressroom. It’s loud out here. Voices echo off the cinderblock walls as reporters mill about, hoping for a player to go rogue and give a statement.

I’ll do them one better.

My girl can’t tell me she wants a kiss and not get one. Anything she wants is hers for the taking.

“Just one more.” I dip down again, brushing my lips against hers. It’s quick and so gentle it can barely be considered a kiss. But I have a lifetime of practice when it comes to restraint, so I release her and fist my hands at my sides to keep myself from touching her. If I don’t back away now, then I don’t know that I can stop the freight train of desire barreling through me.

Standing with her in public like this is addicting. Knowing others are watching when I kiss her only spurs me on. Shit. Just the thought of taking it further, touching her in other ways regardless of who’s around, is far too appealing.

With one deep breath, I rein in my errant thoughts and rest my forehead against hers with a sigh, willing my heart to settle. When I pull back and take her in, her eyes are glassy and her breaths are coming heavy.

“Let’s get you home, Pumpkin.”

“Did you have fun tonight?”

We’re riding the elevator up to my floor because Lennox is staying at Sara’s.

It’s been a long, long day, but as soon as Sara settled in my pickup, it’s like she got a second burst of energy, talking a mile a minute, giving me a play-by-play of her night.

“It really was amazing.” She clutches her hands to her chest. “And that little stunt you pulled?” The hum she lets out is pure delight.

“Which one?” I tease. I pulled a few tonight, and I couldn’t blame even half of them on my uncle.

“The push-ups with me on your back.” She sighs, her body practically melting beside me. “You should have heard Seb after that. He was fuming.”

“He didn’t do anything to you, right?” I press closer, inspecting her like there’s any way I would have missed an injury. I know better, but it doesn’t stop me from checking. If he left any marks, they’re the invisible ones, and the emotional scars are what I’m truly worried about.

She pushes me back with a laugh. “Nah, a little name calling never hurt me.”

A shot of anger rushes through me. “He called you a name?” I’m standing too close again, my hands balled into fists at my sides.

She rolls her eyes and lets out a little laugh. “Puck bunny.”

How is it that she can let that roll off her back so easily while I’m seething on the inside? She’s not a fucking puck bunny. And honestly, I hate that term.

“You’re not a puck bunny. He can’t call you that.”

The elevator dings, and when the doors open on my floor, she grabs my hand, pulling me forward. “I know that. Seb’s words don’t faze me. I know exactly what we are. You’re my best friend.”

Those words don’t touch what we are. Sure, she’s my best friend, but so is War. I sure as fuck don’t have this overwhelming compulsion to push him down on my bed and devour him.

My relationship with Sara transcends friendship and lust. It transcends every feeling I’ve ever had for another person. I’m in so far over my goddamn head I can’t see straight.

As we walk down the hall hand in hand, her warmth seeps into me and spreads through my body, settling me. Maybe I’m finally seeing straight. Maybe we both are. When she tips her head up, giving me that coy smile of hers, the smile she’s shared time and again, I finally see all those moments between us for what they really were. Whispered secrets, reassurances sometimes veiled in teasing or sarcasm, full conversations held without words in a language entirely our own.

But despite all that, there’s a piece of me I haven’t shared with her, and I’m tired of hiding it. I want to tell her exactly how I feel. As we round the corner to my apartment, I tug her closer, eating up the space between us until she’s just a breath away. “Sar, you’re so much more than just my⁠—”

“Oh, thank God!”

I’m knocked back at the sound of my brother’s shout down the hall.

Sara’s eyes go wide, and she spins toward him, pulling back a step.

Aiden jumps up off the floor in front of my apartment door. “I swear I’ve been sitting here waiting for you guys for hours.”

“You okay?” Sara drops my hand and moves closer to him.

What the hell?

“Am I okay?” he bellows. “No, I’m not okay. How the hell do you know Lennox?”

Moving to Sara’s side, I glare at my brother. “Watch it.”

Aiden runs his hands through his curly hair. It’s still damp from his after-game shower, and it’s a wild, tangled mess. He’s in a suit, but it’s rumpled and so unlike Aiden. The kid always looks sharp. He may be a clown off the ice, but he’s always a well-dressed clown.

“Sorry.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “But seriously, Sar. How do you know her?”

With a low grunt, I tilt my neck one way, then the other, hoping to release the tension that’s suddenly taken over. With Aiden here, there’s no way Sara and I are going to have our big talk tonight. It kills me, but it’s pretty clear that I won’t be getting another taste of her either. Not yet.

I shake it off and step up to my door. Once I’ve got it unlocked, I hold it open for Sara. She gives me a quick inspection as she passes, but her brow is furrowed and her shoulders are tight. Dammit. She’s uncomfortable. When Aiden crosses the threshold, I slap a palm against his chest to stop his movement. “She’s her best friend. Be kind.”

Aiden winces and pulls on the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

I drop my keys in the bowl by the door and slide off my shoes, then rest my hand against the small of Sara’s back and lead her to the couch. “Want something to drink?”

“A beer would be great,” Aiden replies behind me.

“Get your own drink.” With another glare at him, I slip out of my suit jacket and drape it over the back of a chair at the kitchen counter.

He scowls. The dude is more surly tonight than I’ve ever seen him.

Sara, thankfully, seems to have relaxed a bit since she settled in on the couch cushions. “I’m fine.”

When I turn back to Aiden, the defeated slump of his shoulders tugs at my heartstrings. “You’re buying me another six-pack,” I grumble. I head to the fridge and snag a pumpkin beer for Sara and two lagers for Aiden and me.

I hand Sara her beer, top already off, and she rewards me with a sweet smile. As I settle beside her, Aiden drops into the chair across from us and slumps forward, dropping his elbows onto his knees and holding his beer loosely in front of him. “Is she dating anyone?”

“Fucking A,” I grumble.

Sara lets out an uncomfortable laugh and pushes her hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure if I should answer that. Maybe you should talk to her.”

With his elbows still planted on his knees, he lifts his head. “Does she talk about me?”

“Oh my God.” I take a swig of my beer and marvel at the insanity before me. “What the hell is going on with you and Jill?”

Aiden straightens at that question. “Nothing. I just⁠—”

“Then go home to her.”

The way he deflates makes me feel like an ass.

Sara grips my thigh, silently signaling me to go easy on my brother, but now that she’s touching me, I can’t focus on the man falling apart on the other side of the room. All my focus has been rerouted to my dick. I clear my throat and mentally scold myself. If I can keep the train on the tracks and get Aiden’s head on straight quickly, then I can⁠—

“I’m going to let you two talk,” Sara says, instantly killing my mood.

With that statement, any hope that this night could end with my hands on her has evaporated. She squeezes my thigh again and angles in close. Her sweet scent envelops me as she pecks my cheek. “Great game tonight, Saint.”

Every cell in my body is screaming for me to stop her. Hold her hostage.

“Thanks, Sar.” Aiden, the idiot, is completely oblivious to his status as a major cockblock.

She stands and smiles at my brother before I can formulate a sentence. “I’m gonna take this for the road.” She brings her bottle to her lips. “Don’t want to waste a perfectly good pumpkin beer.” She winks at me.

All I can do now is hold back my groan and accept that there is no salvaging this night.

“Breakfast tomorrow?” I scramble for a reason to see her as I stand and follow her to the door. It’s stupid. We’re headed out on the road in two days, and unlike the rest of the guys, my girl travels with us. I will see her again.

And she’s my Sara. We’re going to see one another. We always do.

She winces. “I’ve got plans. But I’ll see you on the plane on Monday?”

Monday? What about tomorrow night?

Of course I don’t say that. Don’t even ask what her plans are. She’ll probably be hanging with Lennox, since they don’t get to see each other much. And it’s not really my place to ask, is it?

Fuck, I’m a disaster.

“Yeah, of course. Monday.” I itch to touch her, to pull her close and hold her. To relive the kisses she so easily gave me only an hour ago. And fuck it, I don’t have the wherewithal to stop.

Threading my fingers in the hair at her nape, I pull her close, and when she fists my shirt and smiles, I press my lips to hers. Like earlier, she lets out a surprised little yip. And just like that, I’m obsessed with the sound. Then she slides her tongue against my lips, seeking more.

“Fuck, crazy girl.” I pull back a fraction and fill my lungs, then I dive back in for another kiss.

“Shit.” The word is low, almost imperceptible, as she pulls back. Licking her lips, she studies me, scanning every inch of my face. “Shit.”

“You already said that,” I tease softly. Then I go back for more, gently brushing my lips over hers one more time.

When I step back this time, her eyes are hazy, and a slow grin spreads across her face. She blinks once, twice, then she offers a small wave and takes a step backward, toward the door. In true Sara fashion, she stumbles over her own two feet, but she quickly rights herself. With a shake of her head and a little laugh, she spins, and then she’s gone.

Shit is right.