8. Dj

CHAPTER 8

DJ

My blades send off a spray of snow shavings as I slice to a stop beside Ethan. The kid's been struggling with his puck control at higher speeds, and since our trusty team captain has his hands full with all the tensions on the team right now, I've made it my mission to help him level up before practice, take a bit of that pressure off Slade.

Gotta pay it forward, right?

"Alright, let's run it again," I say, snagging a puck. "Remember, soft hands on the stick. Guide it, don't grip it."

Ethan nods, brow furrowed in concentration beneath his helmet as we take off down the ice. I keep my speed in check, watching his technique, and feel a surge of pride. He's getting there.

We weave through a series of cones, passing back and forth. As we hit the far blue line, I call out, "Now faster on the crossovers!"

Ethan digs in, powerful strides eating up the ice. The puck wobbles on his blade but he maintains control. Beautiful .

"Hell yeah!" I whoop as we reach the end. "You're getting it, man. Those hands are pure silk right now."

"Thanks, Deej," Ethan says, flashing a grin. "It's way better after those tweaks you showed me."

"Anytime, kid. I'm always here if you need advice, on or off the ice. Us Blizzards gotta look out for each other, yeah?" I reach out for a fist bump.

Ethan returns it with enthusiasm. "For sure. Means a lot."

I can't help but smile as we set up for the next drill. Folks like to run their mouths about my rep as a player, on and off the ice. And yeah, maybe I play a little fast and loose when it comes to sex and my personal life. OK, a lot.

But the tabloids don't see moments like these.

I vividly remember being the rookie, wide-eyed and eager to prove myself. If it wasn't for leaders taking me under their wing back then, I wouldn't be the player I am today.

Nah, this right here—building up the next generation, making sure they know they've got support—this is the legacy I wanna leave.

As Ethan and I finish up our last drill, a sudden stab of pain shoots through my knee. Aw shit, not again . I wince and stumble, catching myself before I face-plant on the ice.

"You good, DJ?" Ethan calls out, skating over with a look of concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I say through gritted teeth, trying to stretch out the ache that's radiating from my kneecap. "Just the old war wound acting up again."

But even as I brush it off, memories of that fateful game all those years ago come rushing back...

It was conference finals my sophomore year of college. We were neck and neck with our biggest rivals, fighting for a chance at the national title.

I intercepted a sloppy pass and rocketed down the ice, the roar of the crowd spurring me on as I deked around their d-man. I was about to snipe top shelf when out of nowhere, their goon of a defenseman slammed into me from behind.

My skate caught an edge and my knee twisted at a sickening angle as I smashed into the boards. White-hot agony exploded through my leg and I collapsed on the ice, screaming. Next thing I knew, I was being stretchered off to the hospital.

Sitting out that whole next season, watching my team struggle without me, was pure torture. Hockey was my life, my identity. Who was I if I couldn't play?

I fell into a dark spiral of self-pity and doubt, only pulling myself out of it by focusing on rehab after my surgery, the promise of being able to play again senior year my only light at the end of the tunnel.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the painful memories. I can't let myself go down that road again. I'm at the top of my game, one of the best players on the Blizzards.

But at thirty-three, I'm not exactly a spring chicken anymore. The NHL is a young man's league. If I get sidelined again ...

Anxiety knots in my stomach at the thought. The team could easily cut me loose. Then how would I keep supporting my mom? She depends on me to help cover her mortgage ever since she got screwed over by a shady investment scheme.

I can't let her down. I won't let her down.

I take a deep breath and gingerly test my weight on my aching knee. I'll just have to grin and bear it for now. Tape it up, pop some Advil, do whatever it takes to push through. No one can know I'm hurting . I paste on a cocky smile and wink at Ethan.

"Race you to the locker room, slowpoke. Loser has to buy lunch!"

I take off across the ice, ignoring the twinge of protest from my knee. Mind over matter. I've beat this once before and I'll beat it again. Nothing's gonna keep DJ Johnston down for long.

As Ethan and I glide off the ice, I spot Tyler perched on the bench, his sandy hair tousled and damp with sweat. There's a hesitancy in his chiseled features, like he's not sure how to approach me after our little spat on the plane.

Well, can't let my favorite goalie stew in awkwardness, now can I?

I skate over with my most dazzling grin and clap a hand on Tyler's broad shoulder. "Hey man, we good?"

Relief washes over his face at my friendly expression. "Yeah, totally. Sorry about before, I was just stressed about starting and?—"

"No worries, water under the bridge." I pull him into a quick bro-hug, his solid muscles pressing against me for a brief, tantalizing moment before we separate.

And that's when I notice it—the pink rising in his cheeks, the way his blue eyes drop to my mouth and linger just a beat too long.

Well, hello there...

A thrill zings through me.

I've been into Ty for a while now—how could I not be, with that chiseled jaw and the way he fills out that uniform? And I've definitely caught a vibe from him before, a spark in his gaze when he looks at me.

I mean, what was that on the plane?

But he's never been this obvious about it.

My mind races with the possibilities. I know he's always considered himself straight, but maybe he's finally ready to explore this thing between us. My pulse kicks up at the thought.

I've never been one to deny myself pleasure, in any of its delightful forms.

And Tyler? I have a feeling he'd be very pleasurable indeed...

Instead of stepping away after our hug, I trail my fingers down the firm muscles of Tyler's forearm, marveling at the heat rising off his skin.

His breath hitches and those stunning blue eyes darken with desire.

God, he's gorgeous. And so close to giving in to what we both want.

"You know Ty, we could slip away right now," I murmur, leaning in until my lips brush the shell of his ear. "No one would even notice we're gone. There's still at least an hour until practice starts officially."

Tyler shivers and for one glorious moment, I think I've got him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and my eyes track the movement hungrily.

But then he's pulling back, shaking his head.

"DJ, I... I can't. Not yet." His voice is strained, apology and frustration warring in his expression.

Damn. I want him so bad it hurts. But I get it. Coming to terms with a new side of yourself is a big deal.

As much as I'm dying to take this further, I respect Tyler too much to push.

"Hey, no worries man. I didn't mean to pressure you." I take a step back, giving him some breathing room. "You take all the time you need to figure things out."

Relief floods his face and he nods gratefully. With one last heated look, he turns and walks away. I watch his perfectly muscular ass until he disappears around the corner.

Well, well. Not a yes...but definitely not a never either.

I grin to myself. Tyler Simmonds, I am going to rock your world so hard when you're ready for it. Just you wait.

The icy breeze stings my skin in the most delicious way as I stand shirtless on the practice facility's rooftop terrace, my heart rate finally slowing.

I close my eyes for a moment, savoring the chill rippling across my torso. The perfect way to cool down after that encounter with Tyler, get my head on straight for practice.

The metal door clangs open and I spin around. Sydney freezes mid-step, coffee mug in hand, bundled adorably in her thick winter coat. Looks like great minds thought alike about getting some fresh air this morning.

Sydney's surprised eyes lock on my bare chest before darting away and the corner of my mouth curls into a grin.

I can't resist the opportunity to tease her a little. Keeping my movements slow and deliberate, I grab my shirt and tug it over my head, pulling the fabric tight across my abs.

Sydney's gaze traces down my body and a pretty blush stains her cheeks.

Gotcha.

"Morning, Sydney," I drawl, flashing her a wink. "Enjoying the view?"

"Oh! Um, I was just—I didn't expect anyone else to be out here," she stammers, fidgeting with her mug.

I take a few steps closer, drawn to the way the wind ruffles strands of her dark hair. "Guess it's your lucky day then."

Sydney raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?" Her eyes sparkle with amusement and...something else. Something heated that sends a jolt straight through me.

Interesting. This is new. My pulse kicks back up a notch.

I'm not trying to be a total sex pest, but I have a laser-sharp ability to sense when people are into me. The way Sydney is looking at me right now is different from normal. Darkened, and slightly guilty, like she's been thinking about me naked.

Has she?

After my cock-tease interaction with Tyler, I can't resist playing this out.

I lean my hip against the railing, acting casual while my body buzzes with awareness. "C'mon, admit it. Seeing me is totally the highlight of your morning."

"You're awfully sure of yourself," she observes, but a smile plays at her mouth.

"Nah, just calling it like I see it, sunshine. I mean, look at you, you're practically swooning."

Sydney bursts out laughing and the sound wraps around me like a caress. "In your dreams, hot shot."

"Every night, baby." I let my smile drop until my expression is dead serious and give her a smoldering look. "Every night."

She laughs at first, rolling her eyes, and I join her. But when she meets my eyes again, there's another jolt of attraction between us and I know she senses it too. Her breath hitches and I swear the air between us sparks.

I want to reach for her, to see if her skin is as soft as it looks...

I step closer to Sydney, my hand coming up to trace the line of her neck above her coat. Heady desire courses through my veins.

Another wave shoots through me as Sydney melts into my touch, tilting her head to the side to give me better access. The winter air might be cold, but everything about this moment is burning hot.

"DJ," she whispers, her voice a mixture of warning and invitation. Her fingers graze my wrist gently, not pulling away but holding on.

It's all the encouragement I need to lean closer, my thumb brushing softly against her jaw, our breaths mingling in the icy air.

"You okay with this?" I ask, because I want her all in.

A shy nod and a small smile escape her before she meets my gaze fully, vulnerability and desire shining back at me.

"Yes, I'm okay with this," Sydney confirms, her voice firmer now, seemingly emboldened by our obvious shared lust.

I close the distance between us entirely, my lips capturing hers in a kiss that feels like the first spring day after a relentless winter—warm, promising, revitalizing. She tastes like coffee and peppermint, a combo I'm already addicted to.

Her arms wind around my neck, pulling me closer as if she's afraid I'll vanish if she lets go.

The world narrows down to just the two of us on this rooftop, surrounded by the sounds of the city below and blanketed by the crisp morning.

Before I can think better of it, I'm pulling off her coat, then reaching under her skirt, my hand skimming up her thigh as I deepen the kiss, reveling in the softness of her skin.

Sydney gasps against my lips, her body pressing closer to mine, her hands wandering over my back, tracing the outlines of my muscles. The cold air nips at us, but the heat between us could melt the ice in the rink below.

She winds her fingers in my hair. I break the kiss to catch my breath, both of us panting slightly, cheeks flushed with more than just the chill, and then I watch her face as my hand edges up higher…

"DJ..." Sydney murmurs, her voice catching as my fingers dance dangerously close to crossing a line.

Her eyes lock onto mine, wide and exhilarated, a silent question passing between us.

I pause, letting the moment stretch out deliciously.

"Too much?" I ask, my voice low and husky, my breath visible in the cold air.

She shakes her head slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. "No," she whispers back, her breath hitching. "Just enough."

Encouraged by her response, my hand moves higher, eliciting a soft moan from deep within her as I explore further, pushing back the fabric of her thin panties, my fingers teasing the sensitive skin beneath, caressing her wet folds before starting to tease her opening, one finger slipping in, then two.

Sydney's breath turns ragged, her grip on me tightening as if she's clinging to sanity by a thread.

Her legs tremble slightly and she leans more fully into me for support. The city's distant noises fade away, drowned out by the sound of her quickening breaths and the soft moans that escape her lips every time my fingers move against her clit, her pussy getting wetter and wetter.

Her back arches, pressing her closer to me, and heat rises between us, scorching against the cold morning air.

"DJ," she gasps again, this time her voice laced with urgency, her hands pulling at my hair.

I chuckle softly as I kiss her, the sound rumbling from my chest and vibrating against her lips.

"You like that?" I murmur, increasing the pressure just a bit, circling her clit faster and then slowing, teasing her, delighting in the way her body responds so beautifully to my touch.

"Yes," she breathes out, almost desperately. "Don't stop. I want?—"

But before she can finish, a sudden noise has us both freezing. The moment fractures, and we break apart, both glancing toward the doorway, but nobody is there. Sydney pulls back further, grabs for her coat.

She wraps it around herself quickly, the flush of our activities still painting her cheeks red.

The sudden return to reality makes my heart hammer against my ribs, not entirely from the exertion.

There's a flicker of something like regret in Sydney's eyes, maybe for the interruption or perhaps for the line we had just crossed. But I'm glad to see that underneath that, there's an unmistakable glint of exhilaration.

"I—we should probably cool down," she stammers, her voice husky from our escapade. "This was... I mean, I don't want you thinking?—"

And then she flees, leaving me standing alone, my heart still racing as the vivid recollection of our heated encounter makes it impossible to think straight.

I take a few deep breaths, letting the cold air fill my lungs and chill my heated skin. My fingers still tingle from the warmth of her touch, and I wipe them against my sweatpants absently.

Running a frustrated hand through my hair, I take a deep breath and try to compose myself. Hockey practice is going to be pure torture after that. Time to take a cold shower and think about grandmas before I head to the rink.

It's going to be a long fucking day.