Page 93 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter
I see you.
I don’t see him, though. Not immediately. I scout around and finally pick him out of the crowd. He’s standing off to the side of the huge garage door that’s admitting people by the swarm. His gaze is on me.
When I get up next to him, he fists the front of my sweatshirt and drags me into him. His lips slam into mine. Our kiss turns open-mouthed and hungry in an instant. It might be the first time he’s kissed me.
His kiss reminds me of a wildfire, and I gladly lean into the flames. He nibbles on my lips, thoroughly explores my mouth with his tongue, sucks on mine.
I stare up at him when he straightens. His wrist rests on my shoulder, my hair threaded between his fingers. He smirks at me, and it’s fucking devastating.
He could have any girl he wanted.
Easy.
“Wow.” Maddy fans herself beside me. “I need to find myself someone who kisses me like that.”
My face flames. “Sorry.”
Penn focuses on me. “Stay in the warehouse. Don’t go wandering. And take this.”
He pulls a slender cylinder from his pocket and slips it into mine. His fingers dip into my jeans, and it should not be sensual that his knuckles brush my upper thigh.
But it is.
“By the way…” He tugs the lock of hair caught in his fingers. The next words are said directly into my ear. “You smell like sex, princess.”
I lean away.
His jaw tics when I don’t refute it, and he moves seamlessly into the crowd. I try to keep an eye on him, the top of his head, but in a matter of seconds, he’s gone.
Guess there’s no such thing as a secret with him.
“What did he give you?” Maddy asks.
I pull out the tube, unsurprised to find pepper spray in my palm. I shake my head and shove it back into my pocket. “He worries.”
I don’t want to elaborate. I didn’t really tell them about Bear, although they obviously got the rest of the story. My scarf and jacket have been doing a fine job when I have to be outside, and I’ve been getting better at the makeup component, too. I practiced a lot last night, and I woke up feeling off again.
Whatever.
If I lose a little sleep because of what happened, it’ll just make me stronger. In theory. Because it doesn’t kill me, right?
We head inside, and Maddy takes the lead. For a petite girl, she has a surprisingly bold way of moving through crowds. Or rather, plowing through them. She takes my hand, and I simply follow in her wake, all the way to the front.
A chalk ring has been drawn on the concrete.
A guy I’ve never seen before stands in the center, explaining something. I catch only the end about not leaving the circle. If they do, the crowd has the right to shove them back in.
Fights end with a knockout or if one person taps out.
First up is one of the d-men on the hockey team. He’s shirtless and fucking ripped, his muscles bulging on his arms and abdomen. He makes a circle, bouncing on his feet and trying to hype up the crowd. They oblige, and he stops beside the emcee.
The crowd parts again to let out his opponent, another player whose name I don’t know.
Both the fighters’ fists are wrapped. They wear shorts and are barefoot. Nothing else.
“How do they not get caught?” I ask in Maddy’s ear.
There aren’t that many people, but it’s still enough that something like this should leak. It would be expected. People shift around me, the energy spiking. The emcee has left the circle, and the two fighters barely wait a moment before crashing.