28. Hayden

CHAPTER 28

HAYDEN

The next evening, Miller and I sit on the bench during a game, eyes on the ice.

"How are you feeling, bud?" he asks.

I reach for my water bottle and take a long drink. "Never better," I lie.

The kiss from last night replays in my head, again and again. I woke up this morning hard as steel, thinking about the soft, breathy moan she made when I sucked on her tongue.

I'm such a fucking asshole. I'm supposed to be watching out for her, helping her, and instead, I'm jerking off while thinking of her.

Miller slants a look of amused disbelief at me. "You seem distracted."

I grit my teeth, because I know what the sports commentators are saying.

What is Tate Ward doing, moving one of his best defensemen to a new position two months before playoffs? Ward put him on the first line when he looks more like a second- or third-line player.

Since I moved positions, I've been racking up the assists, but no goals. Ward hasn't said a word, but I know I'm not playing the way he wants me to. When Volkov and I played together as a defensive pair, it worked because I became whatever he needed me to be.

"I pass to you and you pass it right back." Miller regards me for a long moment. "You're holding back. You're still playing like a defenseman."

He's right that I'm distracted. All I can hear is do most guys know how to give a girl a G-spot orgasm? I had a toy… I didn't like it. What's your favorite sex position?

Darcy Andersen is going to fucking kill me. I swallow hard, glancing over to where she sits with Hazel and Pippa.

"Okay." Miller nods, following the direction of my gaze with a knowing grin. "I see how it is."

The air whooshes out of my lungs in a heavy exhale. "We kissed."

He lights up. "That's great."

"It wasn't like that." My grip tightens on my stick. "It was a one-time thing. I was just?—"

"Let me guess. Helping her?" He smirks. "Because you're her wingman."

My silence is enough of an answer, apparently. Miller tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at me with a growing grin.

"I have an idea."

"Miller, I don't need your dating advice."

He chuckles. "I think you do, but it's not about dating. It's about hockey." Dread gathers in the pit of my stomach at the mischief in his eyes. "Darcy's learning to be a player, right?"

My eyes cut to his, and I really don't like where this is going.

"Being a player is all about variety." He holds my gaze with challenge. "And there are a lot of single guys on the team who would love to help Darcy out. You know, with practicing ."

Protectiveness rattles through me, and I stare back at him with my teeth clenched so hard they might crack. He's trying to get a rise out of me and get under my skin. The rational part of my brain tells me to ignore him.

I can't, though. I love these guys like family, but the idea of them touching Darcy, of her sitting in their laps and stroking their hair while they make out, sends hot rage through my blood.

Miller grins wider at me. "That's a new look from you, Owens. You're normally so cheerful."

"I know what you're doing," I grit out.

"Great." He turns back to the ice with a pleased smile that makes me want to break something. "Score a goal tonight, or I'll make a suggestion next time we're all out at the bar. Put a little bug in Darcy's ear, you know?"

Every muscle in my body tightens. "She doesn't want that."

"Why don't you let her decide that? She's a grown woman, Owens. She can speak for herself."

She gets nervous sometimes, and she's new at the dating thing. She needs someone who will take his time with her and not rush her.

And I don't fucking want her kissing another guy.

"Gents," Ward says to Miller and me, along with the other forward, before I can tell Miller to back down. "You're up."

With my heart in my throat, we climb over the boards.

"Just one goal," Miller calls as we line up for a face-off.

I take the center-ice spot, urgency surging through me as I get into position. My pulse races in my ears as I think about one of the other players with Darcy. The ref drops the puck, and my body takes over. I claw it away and take off toward the net, blood pounding.

My instincts are different this time. As a hockey player, competition has been drilled into me since childhood, and I let it drive me. For once, instead of thinking about what my teammates need, I think about what I want.

And I really, really want to score a goal. I really want Darcy all to myself.

I race toward the net, watching the goalie prepare. The fans are on their feet, cheering. I slap the puck toward the net. It sails past the goalie. The crowd erupts with noise, and victory rushes through me like a wildfire. Through the glass, Darcy meets my eyes with a gorgeous, proud smile, and I wink at her, grinning so hard my face hurts.

Hazel and Pippa wear their guys' jerseys, but Darcy's just in her coat, and the version of me who just shoved past everyone to score a goal wants to see her wearing my name on her back.

"There we fucking go," Miller crows, jumping on top of me to celebrate the goal, and Darcy laughs. A powerful thrill shoots through me.

At the bench, Ward gives me a pleased nod. There we fucking go, indeed.