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Izzy slid her hand up the back of my neck. She pulled me close gently and pressed her lips to mine. I smiled.
“What was that for?”
“For today. Because you get it.” She cuddled in closer and I pulled up the covers. I found a hank of her hair and made the curls go boing, wrapped it round my finger and let it spring free. Her breathing got slow and deep, and she went loose against me. I stroked her back to relax her some more. I’d heard her up late the last week or three, working on that model, rehearsing her pitch. She’d put in the work and it hadn’t paid off, and I hated that for her. Hated those dicks. Izzy was the real deal. She deserved better.
I felt when she went to sleep, but I didn’t wake her. We’d said no sleepovers, but tonight felt different. Like maybe she needed it, and what could one night hurt? One night to rest and not think about work?
I kissed her one more time on the top of her head, and breathed in the scent of her, and soon I dozed off as well.
CHAPTER 8
IZZY
Leon lunged at the TV. “Seriously? Fucker!”
“Bad call,” I groaned. “That was not elbowing. He just, like… has elbows?”
“Right?” Leon swigged from his beer. “It’s not elbowing if someone skates into your elbow.”
Spencer skated around again. Thumped his stick on the ice. The camera zoomed in on his disgruntled expression. He’d been off all night, maybe distracted. Maybe caught up in a frustration spiral. He stomped into the penalty box shaking his head, and I shook mine along with him. I got off the couch and stretched till my back cracked.
“I’m grabbing a beer while Spencer’s in hockey jail. You want anything?”
“One more,” said Leon, and held up his bottle. I took our empties to the kitchen and grabbed us two fresh ones, plus a big bag of ruffle chips in case we got hungry. Leon twisted around when I came back.
“They snuck one past the goalie while Spencer was out.”
“What’s the score now?”
“Six-two against us.”
I flopped back on the couch and cracked Leon’s beer, then mine. Spencer was back in play, and he got the puck. He flew down the ice with it, and I leaned forward. Even off his game, he was something to see, his raw power, his passion, his blinding speed. His body was made for this, every bone, every muscle, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the sight. Later, he’d be back with me, naked in my arms. He’d kiss me, all hot breath and rough, three-day stubble. Lean in to whisper he wanted me, only me. We’d have to be quiet, or Leon would hear.
He passed the puck to Rodriguez, but I stayed fixed on Spencer, the way he dropped back and swung to one side, lowering his body mass, gathering power. I knew what he was doing, working on instinct. Anticipating where the puck would go next.
“Come on,” I hissed. “Shoot it, come on.”
Rodriguez shot, and it bounced off the goalie. Spencer surged forward and got control of the puck. He tried for a slapshot and it almost went in, only for the goalie to knock it back out last second. Then, it was flying back up the rink, Spencer racing after it, skates powdering the ice.
“You’re really into this,” said Leon.
“Hell, yeah. Hockey rules.”
“No, not like that.” He sat forward to peer at me, and I shoved him away.
“What are you doing? You’re blocking the screen.”
“Uh-uh, there’s something…” He wagged his head side to side. “You’ve got a thing for him, don’t you?”
I played it dumb. “Who, Rodriguez?”
“Oh, no. Don’t play that way. You’re into Spencer.”
“You bite your tongue.”
The action picked up again, sticks scraping the ice. I craned to see what was happening, but Leon was like a dog with a bone.
“You can’t take your eyes off him. You’ve been staring all night. You’re doing it now, even, trying to look past me.”
