I let out a long breath that comes from deep inside me. “But you get it, right?”
“Get what?”
“Why I want to wait?”
“Yeah, I guess. But if you didn’t know I was a virgin—”
“Sofia, I didn’t know you were a virgin when I met you, but I knew I wanted to be with you. That I wanted more than a roll in the sheets with you. Because if it were the other way around, I’d have thrown you on the table after that run and fucked you stupid, even with a bloody leg.”
She takes in a deep breath. “You weren’t playing… You do like it dirty.”
I smirk. “And hard.”
“Oh my.”
I chuckle. “But with you, I want it to be perfect. I want to be gentle, and at the end of it all, I want you always to think of your first time as the best.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, believe me, it’s a struggle being a gentleman, but I’m pretty sure I’d have a line of people who would kick my ass if I weren’t.” I’m answered with a breathy sigh, and I close my eyes, wishing she were here. “Also, I would want this for my sister or my cousins. Don’t tell me if you already know something I don’t want to know.”
She snorts. “Lips sealed.”
“Good.”
“Ryan.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
My heart clenches in my chest. “Sofia.”
“Yes?”
“You deserve that and more, believe me. I knew that at first glance.”
I can hear her swallow. “Can I see you after the game?”
“There was no other option.”
Her voice drops a bit. “Good. I gotta get back.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’ll be the one screaming loudly for number nine.”
My heart does a wild jig in my chest. “And I’ll be the one scoring for you.”
All while falling so fucking hard for her.
Fuck, I’m in trouble.
I lean on my stick as the ref comes to the face-off, puck in hand.
Arkansas is in town, and they are kicking our asses.
I don’t know what is going on. The forwards aren’t vibing, they aren’t taking any shots, and they look like toddlers on skates. It’s pathetic. Defense is strong, but we can’t block everything. And fucking hell, no one is watching their man, so they’re screening our goalie like mad.
It’s fucking bullshit.
When the puck drops, Walsh wins it back to Moon, and everyone is moving. Moon skates the puck back, passing it to me, and I hold it as our forwards change. We were under pressure, so we cleared the puck, and now we need the change. When an Arkansas player comes toward me, I pass it back to Moon, and his voice fills the rink. “Maky, set up! Move your ass.”
I look to where he wants to pass it, but Maky is snailing it to his position. Fucking bastard. I tap the ice with my stick, and Moon looks to me and shoots me the puck. Cradling it, I start up the ice, my eyes on Maky and our other two forwards. They’re trying to break the zone, but Arkansas is on them. When one comes for me, I pass it over to Moon, who carries it into the zone.
But he’s cut off. The player pushes the puck away, and thankfully, Maky is there to catch it, taking it back as Moon skates around. Coach hollers for us to change, but not yet, we have to break their zone first. I don’t want to be caught on a bad change. I slap my blade to the ice once more, and Moon sends it back to me. I’m so fucking frustrated that I swing my stick back and crash my blade to the puck. The blade shatters, pieces going everywhere, and I let my head fall back.
Fuck.
But before I can shake my broken stick in complete frustration, I hear the horn.
The goal horn. The crowd is going crazy.
My teammates have their arms up, Moon is attacking me from the left, and I still have no clue what just happened.
“Attaboy, Justice!” the boys yell.
Holy hell, I scored.
I tap their helmets. “We’re in this. Let’s fucking go!” Heading to the bench, I tap my buddies’ gloves, telling all of them we can win this. I thought I felt great before the game—after rubbing one out flooded with thoughts of Sofia and then a nice nap—but now… Now, I feel fucking great.
Sitting down, I take a long pull of my Gatorade as my eyes fall on a gorgeous brunette who has her pom-poms in the air and a large Bullies sweatshirt on. Her lips are tilted in the sexiest of ways, and I know she’s looking at me.
’Cause she’s all mine, and she’ll be waiting for me after the game.
Man, nothing can bring me down from this high.
When Coach grabs a fistful of my jersey, I hold my breath. “Didn’t I call you off the ice?”
I don’t dare look at him. “I was making a play, and I didn’t want to get caught on a bad change.”
“You didn’t even know it went in until the horn sounded. You took a chance when the Arkansas forwards could have broken that play and rushed it up the ice.”
“I would have stopped them.”
“With a broken stick?” he asks, and I nod.
“I’d use my body. I wouldn’t let them score.”
“Moot point. I told you to get off the fucking ice.” He shakes me angrily.
And there went my good mood.