Pucking Around (Jacksonville Rays, #1)

by Emily Rath

My Mystery Girl is putting me on ice. She wants to focus on her career, and I can respect that. I’m a career addict too.

“Ten months,” I say, my gaze locked on her. “Ride out your contract. I’ll play nice.” I lean in. “But the second it’s over, you’re mine, Seattle. You’re not leaving me again.”

And I didn’t imagine our chemistry. Over the last two months, I’ve downplayed it in my mind. The sex wasn’t that good. Our connection wasn’t that deep. I was tipsy. I was lost in the moment. Now I know the truth. It was real. All of it. Our connection, our heat, the instant passion, the way he reads me, the way I read him. What’s worse, he knows it too. He knows I can’t resist him. Can I really survive ten months of this?

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says. “I can’t—” He groans, tugging on the bill of his hat. “I’m a shitty liar, Rach. The guys don’t even let me play poker anymore because they say it’s like taking candy from a baby. I’ll try,” he adds. “I’ll…I won’t say anything about us. But I’m not a good liar.” “Okay.” I don’t know what else there is to say. “At the very least, Caleb is gonna see right through me,” he adds. “We don’t have secrets, Rachel.” I glance up at him. There’s something in his tone—worry, jealousy, pain. He’s right, he wears every emotion on his sleeve. But why is he jealous? “Just ask me,” I say, desperate to relieve that look of pain. He glances up and down the empty hallway before blurting, “Did you fuck Caleb?” My eyes go wide. “What?” “Last night, did you—” He groans again. “Fuck, I think I can take it. Just say it. Rip the band-aid off.” “Jake, no,” I say, placing my hand on his arm. But then my indignation rises. “Did he tell you that we did—” “No,” he says quickly. “No, he didn’t tell me anything about what happened last night…but something did happen between you,” he adds. “Didn’t it?”

“Despite what you may think, I don’t go around having one-night stands with every handsome man I meet,” I add, my temper rising. Jake’s dark brows pinch together. “So, you admit that he’s handsome.” I grit my teeth, ready to tell him off, but then I see the hint of a smirk on his face. He’s in pain, he’s not happy with the conditions I’ve set for us, but he’s trying. I breathe a little sigh of relief. “I don’t know how to do this either,” I admit. “Let’s just…one foot in front of the other, okay?”

“I’ll see you around, Seattle Girl,” he murmurs, his eyes touching me in all the ways his hands can’t. I don’t even try to suppress my shiver of want, even as I glower at him. “Seriously, Compton?” He smirks. “Oh baby, just you wait. I’ve got the next ten months to slow burn the fuck out of this.” He brightens a little at the thought. Then he straight up laughs. “Oh, shit. This is about to become my new favorite game.” I raise a wary brow. “What game?” He grins, lowering his face closer to mine. “Operation Unravel Rachel. I may not be able to touch you, but by god I can look,” he says with a wink that I feel like a slap to my needy pussy. Oh, fuck him. This is not happening. I’m not going to spend the next ten months getting edged by Jake Compton. I give him my best, bitchiest look. “Don’t you dare do what I think you’re gonna do.” “Too late, Seattle,” he says with a laugh. “I’ll be seeing you around. All day. Every day. For the next ten months.”

She’s watching me. That new doctor won’t take her eyes off me. The guys have been blowing up the group chat about her all morning.

Puck is passed to Novikov. Right leg extends as I stretch out. The puck hits my pad again, and I fish it out with my stick and pass to a defender who shoots it down the ice to a waiting winger. Saved. But it cost me. I groan, getting up as fast as I can. The push followed by a full extension stretched my groin muscle tight. Pain lances through my right hip. I shouldn’t have done that. Should have just let it in.

The truth I’ve tried ignoring for weeks sinks deep into my chest: the pain is getting worse. And damn if the doctor isn’t still watching me. I noticed her in the stands sitting next to Doctor Tyler. Now she’s standing right at the plexiglass in my eye line, arms crossed, mouth set in a firm line.

“Saatana,” I curse as I nearly take a puck to the face. It whacks off the crossbar and hits my shoulder before dropping into the net. White scores because I was too busy watching my coach flirt with the pretty doctor to guard my damn goal. “Head in the game, Mars!” Sully barks at me. I shake my head. What the hell just happened? Was I bewitched? Nothing breaks my concentration on the ice. Anger bubbles in my chest. I don’t like that I was distracted. Focus.

He just chuckles, gesturing to the doctor. “Mars, this is Doctor Rachel Price.” I let myself look at her openly. She’s standing with her arms crossed tight around her middle. She’s cold. Not used to the rink then. She has dark eyes hidden behind thick, rectangular-framed glasses. Her hair is up, with a few pieces framing her face. She’s beautiful. And she’s still looking at me. Her gaze roves unashamedly, taking me in from my skates to my helmet. I tower over her in my full kit. We’re like the kitten and the gorilla. Slowly, I take my helmet off, holding her gaze without the cage in the way. “Doctor Price, this is Mars Kinnunen,” Coach says. “He’s the best damn goalie in the League.” I hand my helmet over to coach and tuck my stick into my knee pad. Then I tug off my blocker, offering out my right hand. It’s sweaty, but if the new doc has a problem with that, she’s in the wrong business. She leans over the boards with a smile and takes it. “Really great to meet you, Mars,” she says.

I nearly missed the block because I’m too afraid to do a full right-side extension. Too afraid I’ll pull the groin muscle worse. I’ve been doing all I can to rehab it on my own. It’s not my first pull and it won’t be my last. I just need some more ice, massages, and a better stretching routine. The scouts from the FIHA are coming to watch me play, so I can’t be sitting the bench with a groin pull. I want to make this Olympic team more than I’ve ever wanted anything. It’s my legacy. My grandfather played for Finland in the Oslo Olympics in 1952. Father was in Lake Placid in 1980. This is my time. Father’s team placed fourth. I mean to make the podium.

I’m just standing here on the ice as she turns to walk away. “Wait—” She glances over her shoulder, one dark brow raised. “What physical?” She smiles again. Americans always do that—smile when they don’t mean it. I suppose it’s meant to put people at ease, and it works on most other Americans. To me, it always comes off as disingenuous. Don’t smile unless you mean it. And I don’t want her fake smiles. I want to earn them. “All the starting players have their final physicals next week,” she replies. “I’m new to the team, so I’m playing a bit of catch-up here, but I promise I’ll be thorough. We don’t want to miss anything with the eyes of the hockey world focused on the Rays.”

“What was your specialty?” I call after her. “Knees,” she replies. “Hips and knees. I imagine that means you and I will become good buddies this season.” With another nod, she turns and leaves. Goddamn it.

Jake and Caleb are pretty boys—perfect jaws, cheekbones for days, the floppy jock hair. All-American athletes. But Mars is…wild. He looks like the toughest guy on a hockey team had sex with a Viking and made a super baby.

Behind us, there’s hooting and clamoring as someone cuts the music. “Whoa—” “Guys!” “Hey Jacobs, is this the new doc?” “Hot Doc spotted!” “New doc on the block!” All the guys are shouting and laughing as they abandon their equipment. Hillary rolls her eyes at me. “Ignore them. They go after new staff like dogs with a bone.” One of the guys shoots straight for me, his face a sweaty mess. He looks young, bright eyed and friendly. “Hey, Doc,” he says, holding out his hand. “Ryan Langley, forward.” “Yes, you are,” Hillary says. “Get back, before you soak us with your sweat.” I just laugh, taking his sweaty hand and giving it a shake. “Rachel Price.” “Rachel,” he calls over his shoulder. “Her name’s Rachel,” a guy echoes, and then all the guys are saying it. “Price,” Hillary corrects them. “Her name is Doctor Price to you.”

Boys may grow into men, but they never really grow up. “How long will the hazing last?” I say, glancing at Hillary. She purses her lips. “With how pretty you are? My guess is forever.” “Great,” I mutter. This is going to be the longest ten months of my life.

CALEB (2:07PM): I had nothing to do with this. Asshole took my phone UNKNOWN (2:07PM): And now I have your number. Just face it, we’re inevitable, Seattle That message is followed up with a picture of Jake giving ‘fuck me’ eyes. Then a second of him with Caleb in a headlock. I groan. Just slather me with butter and jam because I am so fucking toast.

“Oh, girl—wait. When you say ‘meet’…did you meet meet him?” I nod and she shrieks through the phone. “Oh god, that is amazing!” she cackles. “You dirty little horndog. You hooked up with an NHL player at your brother’s wedding—” “Not at the wedding,” I correct. “And I didn’t know he played for the NHL. I didn’t know anything about him. We didn’t do names.” Tess laughs. “God, you are wild, girl.” “It didn’t feel very wild in the moment,” I admit. “It felt…right. He felt right. It was…” I struggle to find the words to explain what Seattle meant to me. “Cosmic,” I say. “We had a cosmic connection…have,” I add softly.

“I can’t start something with him again. I can’t mess up this chance. The last three Barkley Fellows from the Clinic were all offered permanent positions when their fellowships ended. This could be the start of my new career.” Tess is pensive, lips pursed as she nods. “Yeah…or it could be the start of the rest of your life with Magic Boy—” “Mystery Boy.” She sighs again. “Look, Rach. You know I love you. You know that, right?” “Yeeeah.” “Okay, well you have this thing you do where you sabotage all your relationships. You don’t give them the legs to stand before you cut them off at the knees. And now you’re telling me you have a cosmic connection with Magic Boy—” “Mystery Boy,” I correct again. “Whatever.” She waves her hand. “We’re talking about planets aligning, stars shining, and you’re sitting alone on a Sunday night, talking to me? Rach, you’re living in the same city as this Magic Boy and—wait—I’m assuming the sex was good? Oh, please tell me it was good. Tell me he’s got a gorgeous, nine-inch member that vibrates.”

JAKE (9:45PM): Night, beautiful. FYI, I go to sleep pretty early JAKE (9:45PM): Unless you’re in my bed, obvs The last thing he sent on Saturday was a picture of him, shirtless in the dark, stretched out on his bed. He had a sleepy smile on his face, one hand tousling his hair. I can’t stop smiling. “Girl, what?” Tess says with a grin. “What is that face? He’s been texting you, hasn’t he! Omg, what is he saying?” “Nothing,” I reply, tapping her screen to hide his messages. “You little liar,” she teases. “You practically have hearts in your eyes. Is it dirty stuff? Text him back.” “No—” “Oh god, please text him a dirty pic. Do it now—” “Tess!” I cry, setting my wine aside again. “Your tits!” she shouts. “Text him a sexy picture of your tits. You’ve got great boobies, girl. Share the love. Please, Rach. Do it for me.”

“Hey, two can play his game,” she says with a shrug. “He can look, but he can’t touch. Drive him wild.” My heart flutters at the idea. “I think that would qualify as torture in like at least thirty countries. Cruel and unusual punishment.”

I grin, snatching up my glass of wine and taking a sip. “If I’m sending one, you’re sending one too.” She chokes on a laugh. “What—to Magic Boy? Honey, the majesty of my titties would end his sweet little life.” “No,” I say, all but snorting on my wine. “Not to him. Surely you have someone whose soul you’d like to see ascend to a higher plane of existence?” She smirks. “There might be someone.”

This is the world’s most terrible idea, but I’m two glasses of chardonnay in, and he’s been blowing up my phone all weekend. Two can play his game. “I’m doing it.”

I really shouldn’t do this. I don’t want to lead him on. But you really want an orgasm. I shiver at the thought, my mouth quirking into a smile. Yeah, just picturing Jake’s face when his phone dings is enough to have me hot. And there’s literally no way he won’t respond. If I’m not careful, I might have him breaking the laws of traffic, racing over here to handle business in person. Would that be so bad?

Now I’m standing in just my silky pajama shorts. No way am I sending a picture of my coochie. I’m not even going to let him see my full tits. I crawl onto the bed, sitting back against the pillows. I cross my right arm over the girls, squeezing them together a bit and giving them a lift. The lighting is good, just a soft glow from my side lamp. And if I angle the shot right, I get just my neck and chest. Everything is covered and the angle ends at my hips. Before I lose my nerve, I take the photo. This is crazy, but I have a plan. I send the picture and wait.

After a long day of practice, it feels good to unwind with the guys. A few of us are out exploring a new bar tonight, eating our weight in chicken wings and salad. The food is crap, and the music is too loud, but we’ve got a great view of the ocean. Caleb sits next to me, reading out the stats from the other NHL teams’ exhibition games. Morrow and Novy sit across from us, elbows bumping at this narrow table. “Oy, boys,” says Novy with a laugh. “Look who we have here.” Caleb and I glance over our shoulders. “Apparently that asshole thinks he’s too good to sit with us,” Novy says with a huff. That’s when I see him. Mars Kinnunen is a giant. He’s sitting by himself at the bar, glancing down at his phone while he eats his dinner.

“Can I ask why you won’t come sit with us?” He just looks at me with that expressionless gaze. “I’m on the last chapter of my book,” he explains, tapping his phone screen. It lights up to display his e-book. “It would be rude to read at a shared table. I don’t want to be rude.” I blink at him, mouth slightly open in surprise. Well, now I’m the asshole. I can’t help but laugh. I thought this guy was being a dick, but really, he’s just trying to not be a dick. Go figure. Finns are so weird. “Sure, umm…well, okay then,” I say, backing away. “Have a good night, Kinnunen.”

As I sink down onto my chair, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Caleb slides his basket of fries over to me. “Here, you’ve earned these.” But I can’t think about fries. I can’t think about anything. Because after two days of shooting my shot and getting nothing but radio silence, I’m looking down at a topless picture of my Seattle Girl.

I shift on the bed, feeling a little self-conscious, but then my phone dings. JAKE (8:15PM): Holy shit. Warn a guy next time. Caleb is sitting right next to me I smile down at my phone. Why does the idea of Caleb seeing my picture on Jake’s phone give me a secret thrill? I lay on my back and type a reply. RACHEL (8:16PM): Well, then angle the phone away *wink emoji* My smile widens as I raise my camera and take a new picture from another angle. This time my hand with the star tattoos is cupping my breast, fingers splayed in a nice side-boob shot. You still can’t see anything, and only he would know it’s me because of the tattoos on display. I send it. Immediately, I see three dancing dots. JAKE (8:18PM): Fucking hell. Seattle, I’m in public. Hold on—

Taking a breath, I answer. “Hello?” Wherever Jake is, it’s loud. He sighs into the phone. “What the hell are you doing to me, Seattle?” “I’m answering your many many texts,” I reply. “Why, did you not want me to?” “I’m out with the guys. I almost fell out of my chair and just shuffled to the bathroom sporting a semi.” “Where are you?” I say, stretching out on the bed. Just the sound of his voice is soothing me, even as it spins me up tighter. “I don’t know. Some beach bar. Seattle, why do I have a topless photo of you on my phone?” “You’ve been sending me topless photos all weekend. I thought it only fair I reciprocated.”

“No tricks. No trap doors. Consider this my apology.” “Apology?” “Mmhmm,” I shamelessly let my free hand roam over my bare chest. Knowing I have him all to myself is making me so wet and needy. “Why are you apologizing? Wait—” He growls his frustration. “Seattle, what the hell are you doing?” I sigh as I slide my fingers under the top of my panties. “Touching myself.” “Oh, fuck. Switch to video.” I swirl my fingers over my clit. “No.” “Baby, what are you doing? Talk to me.” “I have my hand in my panties,” I reply. “I’m touching myself. Jake, I’m so wet,” I whimper, my fingertip dipping inside my pussy.

“Baby girl, you gotta talk to me. Tell me what’s happening.” “I’m—I—” I huff with frustration. I’ve never been good at dirty talking on a phone. If I ever worked for a phone sex hotline, the guys would probably ask for a refund. “Hold on.” I shimmy out of my silky sleep shorts and my underwear. “You’re killing me here, baby—” “Hold on,” I say again, tapping the icon on the phone to switch to video. “Oh, fuck yes—” His words cut off as the call switches.

“Some bathroom in a shitty beach bar. I’ve locked the door, but I can’t camp out in here. Now, you called me for a reason.” “Yes,” I reply, spreading my legs and letting my fingers explore again. I can’t help it. Seeing him and feeling so turned on, I can’t not touch myself. “You called me to apologize,” he presses. “Mmhmm,” I say, circling my clit again. I’m biting my bottom lip to keep in my moan. “And why are you apologizing?” I still my hand, holding his dark gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I reply. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“No. This is real, Jake. What we have…” If I try to put it into words, I’ll cry. And I don’t want to cry tonight. I just want to feel good. I want to make him feel good too. “I left you in Seattle. You didn’t get to say goodbye.” “Yeah, that sucked,” he mutters. I take a deep breath, letting it out. “So, now’s your chance.” He raises a dark brow. “What?” “Say goodbye.” “Seattle, what are you—” “I robbed you of the chance to have me one last time,” I explain. “I knew if you did, I wouldn’t be able to walk away. I would have stayed. I would have told you my name. Well, now the game has changed. Neither of us can walk away. And you know my name anyway. The reasons I slipped out don’t matter anymore. So here I am. I’m naked and I’m saying yes to anything you want for the next…” I tap my screen to check the time. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes? What the hell?” “Hey, I’ve got a plane to catch, remember?” I tease. “Say goodbye, Jake.” “You are in so much trouble.” “Clock is ticking, angel. Are you going to make me come?” “So hard you see stars,” he replies, spinning to lean against the wall of the bathroom. “Touch yourself. Touch your breasts. And show me,” he adds, his voice harsh with command.

“Good girl. You look so beautiful,” he croons. “So fuckable. You know if I was there, I’d be flicking those tits with my tongue, biting until I leave teeth marks, branding them. You’re fucking mine, Seattle.” “Mmhmm…for four more minutes,” I tease. “You gonna hurry this along?” “Take your panties off,” he orders. “Spread your legs.”

shifting the phone up to show my face. “Way ahead of you.” I raise the phone up a bit and flip the camera so it’s panning over my naked body. “Oh, fucking hell,” he groans. “Kill a man, why don’t you. Spread those legs, baby. Touch yourself. Use your fingers. Two in the pussy, thumb on your clit.”

“Oh god,” I whimper. “Jake, are you hard for me?” “As fucking steel, baby. You have no idea.”

“I’m close,” I pant. “Get your cock out. Come with me.” He groans again. I can’t even see him at this angle, but I can hear him, I can hear his want for me. “Do you have a vibe? Not that tentacle thing. You’re not using that unless I’m there to hold it for you.” I gasp, my fingers stilling inside me. “He told you about that?” “Of course, he told me,” he says with a low laugh. “But can we not talk about Cay while I’ve got my hand on my dick? Get a vibrator. I wanna watch you ride a toy and pretend its me.”

I pull out my trusty pink vibe with a clit stimulator. The thing comes with like fifteen settings, but I only like one. High voltage buzz. Ruins me every time. I hold it up for him and smile, turning it on. “Oh, fuck yes. Put it in nice and slow. Ride it for me and let me watch. Fuck—I’m so fucking close. Gonna come in this shitty fucking bathroom watching you shatter, baby.”

“Oh god—I’m so close, Jake,” I whisper. “So am I. Fuck, you’re so beautiful. So perfect. Come for me, baby girl.” Between his voice and the vibrations, I crest my high so hard and so fast. I come apart, crying out for him, convulsing with each wave of my orgasm. I clench around the toy, strangling it with my pussy, as it buzzes against my clit. I’m hot all over and then I’m shaking, jerking it loose and tossing it on the bed next to me. I sink back against the pillows, flipping the camera to look at him. He’s breathing hard too, his eyes glassy. We came together. Even through the phone, our bodies are so in sync with each other.

“Better?” I murmur. “Much,” he replies. “I can’t offer you more right now, Jake.” He nods. “I know.” “But at least you got to say goodbye.” “That was a goodbye to who we were in Seattle. Two strangers lost and alone.” He looks straight at me, his eyes burning with intensity. “But we’re not strangers anymore. My name is Jake Compton, and I’m the starting defenseman for the Jacksonville Rays. I like sushi and the color blue, and I drink my coffee black. I have a twin sister, and I hate all flavors of sparkling water. And I am not going anywhere, Rachel.”

“You give me a chance, and I’ll be so damn good to you. I’ll treat you so right, baby. You’re it for me.”

“Easy, I’m not out here about to propose. I’m not that crazy. I’m just saying I’m in. You want a friend, you got one. A boyfriend, great. A fuck buddy, I’m there. You just name the time and the place. Because we are not strangers, Rachel. And I refuse to act like it. I’m not gonna tiptoe around my life pretending you’re not in it when you are. And if you don’t like it then…well that’s just too damn bad. You made a choice for both of us in Seattle, now I’m making this choice.”

“Jake! Jeez, man, you die in there?” “Hold on!” Jake bellows. I snort. “Goodnight, Jake.” “Night, Seattle. See you tomorrow, bright and early.” I raise a brow. “Bright and early?” He flashes me a devilish grin. “Didn’t you check your schedule? You’re doing physicals tomorrow.” “Yeah…” “Well, I’m your first patient.” I groan. “Better get in that beauty sleep, Seattle Girl. I can be quite a handful in the morning. And I’m nothing compared to the rest of the guys.” “Oh god. They’re gonna start hazing me tomorrow, aren’t they?” He laughs. “You know it.”

I check my phone, tapping the message thread for Jake. Last night was weird. He disappeared into the bathroom for like twenty minutes. When he came out, he looked all flushed and glassy eyed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear to god he was hooking up in there. But I was right there when the door opened, and he came out alone. I asked him about it on the drive home and he got all cagey, changing the subject. Something is up. I hate thinking he’s hiding something from me. That’s not how we are together. Or at least it wasn’t…but he’s been weird for a few months now. I blame his Seattle Girl.

But then I got a desperate call from him that Amy’s flight was cancelled, and he was alone. Jake hates being alone. I talked him down and he promised to call me back after he got his flights changed. Next thing I know, I don’t hear from the asshole for two fucking days. I was ready to call the Seattle police and start a manhunt. Then he shows up back in Jax with stars in his eyes, talking about his precious Seattle Girl. Best sex of his life, his every dream come true. Blah, blah, blah. If she was so great, why did she ghost him? She snuck out before sunrise without leaving her name or her number. I’m not out here trying to rain on my best friend’s parade, but it doesn’t sound like the start to any love story I know.

The man has no filter, no shame, and no ‘off’ switch. He used to drop everything and call me if he saw an interesting bird while driving. He can’t eat a meal unless he sends me a picture of it first. Now he’s doing fishy shit in the bathroom and hiding it from me.

It took losing everything with my knee injury to face the truth I hid from everyone, including myself: I’m queer. Growing up in men’s locker rooms, I found ways to dissociate with that part of myself. If you’d tried telling twenty-year-old me that he liked sex with men, he would have laughed in your face.