“Right, well, I’m feeling better about things. Let’s go.” I can’t even look Tripp in the eye after that. He reads me too easily, and I don’t want him to see that I liked kissing him when I have no clue what’s going through my head. I’d never hear the end of it.

I kissed my husband, and I liked it, but to me, it was no different than when he holds me or I kiss his cheek or we stay up all night talking.

It makes me … full. Happy.

And, actually, kinda hard, so I guess that’s one new thing.

I lead the way out onto the ice, where we pose in our skates, with and without our sticks, together and solo. It’s no different from any of the other photoshoots we’ve ever done, and I’m able to relax into it, stop thinking, and act on instinct.

Even when Tripp and I are asked to horse around and act playful, that shit is easy too. Maybe Damon was onto something, and this whole marriage is a part I can nail. Other than hockey, there isn’t much in my life that comes effortlessly to me, but being Tripp’s husband might be one of them.

When the photographer pauses to check through the photos, I speed toward Tripp and pull into a sudden stop, sending shavings of ice at him.

“Oh, someone thinks they’re clever.”

“Race you to the other side and back?”

Instead of answering, Tripp takes off.

“Cheater!”

His laughter echoes back to me as I break into a sprint. He has the head start, but while all that bulk might be good for guarding our goals, it puts him at a disadvantage. My career is built on speed, and I’ve got the body to go with it, so by the time we’re rounding the goals at the other end, I pass him. Tripp curses, and I blow him a kiss before pushing harder to take the lead. He doesn’t take it easy on me, and as I fly up the ice, the sound of his skates not far behind me, I’m lighter than I’ve been in a long time. Hockey is nonstop during the season to the point I want a break, but in off-season, I always miss it. Being on the ice, with my best friend at my side, is a feeling so indescribable, I know I’ll never get it again outside of this.

When we reach the starting point, I pull up sharply, Tripp barely seconds behind. He’s still laughing, and getting that sound from him fills me with a pride so deep, I reach for him and kiss the side of his head.

At the sound of a loud click, I glance up to find a camera pointed toward us. I’d almost forgotten about them.

“That was great, guys,” Russel calls. “Only the locker room ones to do, then you’re free.”

Tripp and I follow them down the chute to the locker room, where the photographer starts to set up while we take off our skates. “These are going to be the more intimate shots,” Sid says. “Out there was to showcase your friendship. In here is your relationship.”

And this is the part I was scared of. I’d almost thought we’d gotten away without having to do the fake thing, but I guess this is happening.

Photos. With my husband. Who I love.

Technically, both of those things are true though.

“Okay, we need you two both in towels—leave your underwear on underneath if you like—but we’re going for post-game bliss.”

Post-game bliss? Okay. That’s a thing I can do. After all, I’ve been close to Tripp when he’s been wearing less. This time, we’ll just be doing it in front of an audience.

My whole face heats up.

Well, not doing it … posing. Yes. That.

Fuck, why do I feel like I’ve just played back-to-back games?

I turn to find Tripp watching me steadily.

“This okay for you?” he asks.

“Yeah, totally, why wouldn’t it be?”

He smiles at Sid. “Camera shy.”

“He seemed fine out there.”

“That was different.” Tripp takes my hand. “We’ll get changed and be back.” He tugs me after him, grabbing two towels on the way into the shower area. As soon as we’re behind the dividing wall, he drops his voice and whispers, “If it’s too much, I’ll play sick.”

Of course he would. But, nope. I’m not being scared off over something like bare skin. “It’s fine. We can totally convince them of how in love we are.”

“Really?” Tripp cocks an eyebrow. “I know I can be convincing.”

“Well, so can I. I do love you, and for the other stuff, I’ll follow your lead.” I strip off my jersey and move to unbutton my jeans, but something makes me glance up just as I shove down my fly. Tripp’s staring at my hands, slight line between his eyebrows, and the look on his face makes me feel … funny. Hot all over. And now there’s no way for me to finish undressing, because if I do, things will get awkward.

Tags: Eden Finley Puckboys Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net