22
KODIE
Ialmost kissed her.
I almost fucking kissed her.
It’s been five days since I nearly gave in to my baser desires.
Thank fuck Parker called her away, because I honestly don’t know what would have happened next.
One taste of her wouldn’t have been enough; I know that for a fact.
Five fucking days.
I fall back on my bed and stare up at the ceiling.
I swear, I’ve never lived five longer days in my life.
The irrational, horny part of my body begs me to do something about it.
When I was called into a meeting with our head of PR, Hailee, earlier in the week, the temptation to “get lost” and end up in Casey’s office was almost too much to ignore.
I just managed to restrain myself, although I kicked myself for it later that night when I laid in bed thinking about her with an aching erection. Again.
That almost kiss lives rent-free in my head. I’ve even struggled to shift it during practice, which is unlike me. Normally, nothing else exists while I’m on the ice.
And now that we’re heading out of town for our next twoexhibition games, I’m going to lose any chance of seeing her until our next home game on Sunday.
It’ll have been over a week.
It’s probably a good thing.
Soft footsteps move closer before Sutton joins me in my bedroom.
“Are you packed, Daddy?” she asks, hopping up on the bed and lying next to me.
“Yeah.”
“What are you looking at?” she asks innocently.
What I wouldn’t give to be seven again and not understand having to stare at a blank wall—or ceiling—when life gets too much.
“Nothing, just relaxing.”
“You’ve got a big few days,” she tells me.
First Chicago and then Utah.
Both teams beat us more than once last year. We’ve got everything to prove.
No pressure.
“But I’m confident that you’ve got this.”
I can’t help but laugh as I roll onto my side to look at her.
“Thanks. I’m sorry I’m going to miss your practice tonight,” I say quietly.
