Poetry On Ice (Totally Pucked, #1)

by Jesse H. Reign

Ant Decker. Number eight. The Vipers’ first-line right-wing and asshole extraordinaire. And when I say asshole extraordinaire, you better believe I mean it. The man is a total dick who, for reasons I’ve always struggled to understand, decided to make me his archrival when we were little more than kids.

“Talk to him, but be nice ’cause he’s the babiest babygirl in the whole wide world, so make sure he gets special babygirl treatment.”

love being part of a team. There’s nothing like it. It’s a crazy bond that’s hard to put into words or explain if you haven’t been part of one.

“You know people can see when you visit their profile page, right?” even though I promised myself I wouldn’t bring it up.

Oh hes messy

“I’d like an apology,” I say when I’m able. Decker blinks twice and his lips quiver with the effort it costs him not to laugh. “I’m sorry I made your dick hard, Princess.”

“I’m going to kiss you, and”—he takes my head in both hands and holds me firmly in place as he closes the space between us—“I want it to hurt you as much as it’s going to hurt me.”

Like the beginning and end of the world. Like something that’s never happened before and something that’s happened a million times over. It was just a kiss. A normal, not-even-that-long kiss with a guy I actively don’t like.

“Careful, Princess. Keep this up, and you’ll end up on your knees with my dick in your mouth.”

Long story short, I owe Robbie McGuire ten thousand dollars. I’m not happy about it. Not to sock shame anyone, but if you insist on walking around hotel rooms in nothing but boxer briefs and the sluttiest socks known to man, this is the kind of shit that happens.

“I’ll pick you up at two-thirty.” “Great,” I say. “It’s a date.” His face drops. There’s pure panic in his eyes, and holy shit, I love it. “I-it’s not a date.” “Sure it is, baby.” I smile, batting my lashes and clenching my hands over my chest. “I can’t wait.”

If he needs to sit on something that badly, he can sit on my fucking face.

“What a pretty toy.” My voice is that of an unhinged stranger. Beneath the blankets, there’s a soft snicker that spurs me on. “It’s my toy, right? Nobody else’s. Mine only…because I don’t like sharing my things.” “Yours,”

“I’m happy, Robbie.”

“Are you okay, baby?”

“That’s what made it so romantic, baby.”

I want to spend the holidays with you, but I’m giving you an out because my family knows me. They really know me, so I can’t rule out the fact they might see us together and know something’s up. If you come, I’ll do my best to hide it, but I can’t promise they won’t see the way I look at you and know who you are to me.”

Robbie is right. His family does know him. It’s not hard to work out why. It’s because he’s the same at home as he is when he’s with me, when he’s on the ice with our teammates, when he’s talking to fans and people he doesn’t know. He’s the same everywhere. All the time. There’s no masking. There’s only one authentic version of him. Knowing that makes it hard not to touch him because I feel the same way about him here with his family as I do when we’re alone. The longer the meal goes on, the harder it becomes. He’s sitting beside me, so close I could kiss him if I leaned over a little. For the first time in my life, I want to. I want to put my arm around a man’s shoulders in front of his family. I want to let my hand wander up the back of his neck and tug the tiny hairs that grow there, and when he smiles, I want to kiss the smile lines near his eyes because he belongs to me and I belong to him.

“I don’t care what you call it,” he says reasonably. “As long as you say my name when it’s inside you.”

It’s been five days since I left the McGuire house. Five days since I’ve seen Robbie, and it’s the thought of Robbie being caught up in all this that upsets me more than anything. I think of him all the time. His beautiful face. His beautiful, happy face. His honest, open face and his soft heart.

“I know I’m in love with you, Ant. I know it, like really know it.”

“But also, I know this time it’s different. It’s unlike the other times I fell in love because this time…”

“This time, it’s the last time. The last time I’ll ever fall in love. It’s you and me, baby, from now till the end. It has to be ’cause I’ll never feel like this about anyone else.”

“I love you too, Princess. I tried not to fall for you. I really did. But I couldn’t help it.”

I want it because as much as the world still is what it is, I’m different now.

I know what matters more than public opinion, more than bigots, more than hockey, more than anything.

It’s the fact that he’s here. The fact that he’s real. That he’...