“No way I’d ever date a brute like him.”
“Who says you have to date him? Hate sex is the best sex there is. Well, except for whatever you call the kind of sex Merc and I have, but after that I mean.”
He smiles. “You’ve got it bad for that man and I love it.”
“Leslie, Alderchuck, quit making out and get your asses on the fucking ice,”Coachsays. He’s most definitely not my boyfriend right now, but that’s a good thing. It’s pretty clear that us dating buys me zero ounces of favoritism and so at least we don’t have those kinds of issues to deal with on the team.
Besides, my dick only finds his rough male machismo all the more attractive because I know he melts for me off the ice.
Casey and I are over the boards and he’s on Sutter like a bee to honey. I actually focus on the puck. We have a real chance to make it into the Calder Cup playoffs this year and I want it so damn bad. Plus, someone from Vancouver could be watching me. Even though I bitched about not knowing, I told Mercy that I don’t wanna know ‘cuz it’ll probably make me more nervous.
At the beginning of the second with someone from our team in the penalty box yet again, Boston scores off an odd-man rush. Then I get a killer fucking goal—if I do say so myself—from a puck drop in the attacking zone on the power play. I want to blow a kiss to Merc because all my goals scored are for him now, but he hasn’t been overly affectionate on the ice yet. I’ve assumed he wants to keep things professional and that’s fine.
Probably a good idea.
He does pat the top of my helmet when I return to the bench. “Nice goal, Leslie. Can you get me two more?”
“Two? What do you think I am? A goal-scoring robot?”
Mercy leans close to my ear. “The best damn hockey player out there right now.”
Fuck, is that supposed to turn me on? Because it does. It also riles my competitive spirit because now I want those goals damn badly. When I return to the ice, I’m inspired to raise the Alderchuck brothers to my cause and get Casey’s mind off Sutter. For two guys that hate each other so much, they spend a lot of time and energy on the other.
I win the puck drop and don’t hide my glee from Lukkovnov who tries to fucking trip me, but not today, Satan. I drop the puck back to Stacey and skate up through their defense, picking up on the location of the puck which is headed back to me. It lands nice and solid against the tape on the blade of my stick and thenbham!I’m gone, skating so fast there’s no point trying to stop. I’m either going into the net or the boards. It’s just me and their goaltender. I deke right, but switch and slap it into the bottom left corner of the net so fast he doesn’t catch the change.
Their goalie is piiiiiissed, whacking at his goalposts with his wide stick.
I’m on fucking air and have clearly become invincible with my first breakaway in forever. I tear up. I’ve gotten a lot more than an awesome boyfriend outta Mercy this season. He’s helped me help myself get my life back. I missed this kind of hockey high, where I’m not just doing the grind to get the bare minimum. I love the play. I love skating so fast I could well break my neck hitting the boards. I love the roughhousing.
As if I’ve been blessed with magic from the hockey Gods, I get my hat trick before the end of the second and I don’t stop there, scoring two more in the third. I’m flying too high to utter my usual chirpy trash talk at the end of game in the handshake lineup—a display of unsportsmanlike conduct reservedonlyfor Boston—and my first thoughts when I’m skating toward the dressing room are of finding Merc.
I don’t have to. Mercy’s there. On the ice. Waiting for me.
I know why we can’t, but I still wish we could do a big fat kiss right here on the ice. Instead, I discreetly join him, and we walk toward the locker room together. As soon as we enter, he pins me to the wall for a searing kiss and it’s a good thing I’m in all my gear or the rest of the team would have a real show when they walked through.
Mercy’s pulling away as they’re entering. “Get your biking done quickly, Leslie. We have a date.”
“Wait, we do?” I assumed we’d be doing something since we’ve got a Valentine’s Day competition going on, but a date? We haven’t been on an actual date yet. We’ve tried since our last failed attempt in Vancouver, but we’re horny mother fuckers and we never make it out the door. Even Christmas became a full-fledged fuck-a-thon. Our Christmas break is so short—about four days—and we’re usually exhausted from flying so we often do a Hockey Guy Christmas in Kelowna. This year, my dads and brothers flew out for a couple of days. Merc’s family did the same. It was two days of chaos, but Merc and Jack came together in a big way, pun intended, once everyone left. We had planned on doing something Christmas-y with just the two of us but see rule one. We’re horny mother fuckers. We didn’t even have time to get each other presents. Our gift was feeding each other Chinese take-out naked.
Ah, but maybe “date” is code for wild sex. I nod, showing him I understand the assignment. “Ooooh, ‘date’. Got it.”
He rolls his eyes. “We’re going somewhere outside of my condo, Leslie.”
“Whaaaaat? That doesn’t sound fun.”
“My dick’s gonna fall off if sex is all we do together.”
“So is mine, but what a way t’go, don’t yah think?”
“No. Wear something nice. I’ll pick you up from your place at ten.”
I get another peck on the lips and then I’m left to frown as he struts away from me, worried for a second that he’s gonna win at Valentine’s Day over me. One of my V-Day plans does involve chocolate on my body. I knew that if we got to do anything at all tonight, it would be late, and Merc loves to go to bed at a decent hour.
Chocolate-covered Jack that ended in hot fudge sex, a shower and then passing out in his bed seemed like the perfect “date” to me. Now here he is, changing the rules and bringing me on a real date. Fuck, am I gonna lose the Valentine’s Wars?
Nah. What am I thinking? Tonight, it’s all wins for me. My other gift is gonna blow whatever he’s got planned out of the water.
* * *
