May. Six months ago

Kinsley sat on the bench seat inside the box. The centre was empty. Securing her skates, she looked up at me and grinned. We finally had the chance for a second date. We'd lost the Stanley cup, fucking disappointing but it wasn't the first time. Tampa was an excellent team and it was a good game.

Now the season was over and I had time to take this girl out again. We'd been texting and calling over the last few weeks. She couldn't come to the game, being it was in Florida. She did send me a video of her and a group of her friends watching it though.

And because she was in her own home, she wore the jersey I gave her.

Getting that photo right before I went on was a fucking gift. It was a full mirror selfie. Little shorts on and a pair of long red socks. It was all I could think about.

She'd requested our next date be a private ice match. That wasn't hard to swing. We had the rink to ourselves.

"I've been skating since I was three," Kinsley said, standing up. She was wearing a big hoodie and pink leg warmers over her black tights. A matching pink beanie covered her warm brown curls.

Fucking beautiful.

"And?" I challenged, towering over her.

"And I'll skate circles around you."

"I made the NHL for a reason, cutie."

Her lips parted in outrage. "Cutie?"

Putting a finger under her chin, I tipped her defiant face toward me and leaned in close, speaking with a whisper. "Fucking adorable."

"Oh," she laughed, swatting my hand. "You're done. Done."

She stepped around me and skated onto the ice. As soon as she did, she took off, gliding the outside of the rink so effortlessly it was mesmerising. Her legs barely moved but her speed, damn.

"You coming?" She shouted, gliding backward.

She didn't have to tell me twice. Snatching our sticks, I went out onto the ice and met her in the middle. Her skates kicked up a shower of ice when she came to a stop in front of me and took the smaller stick.

"Not bad," I said, dropping the puck between us.

"I also won regional championships for the Vancouver girls hockey league in high school. Twice."

"Let's see what you've got then," I got into position, as did she. Sticks on the puck.

It'd be so easy to lose to her for the simple fact that I couldn't stop looking at her, admiring her, wanting her. She wouldn't have that problem, it was obvious that even if she were attracted to me, she was far too smart to let that get the best of her.

"Three," I started the countdown.

"One," she shouted and took off with the puck.

Her laughter echoed through the rink as I went after her, catching up quick. Circling, I took the puck and headed in the other direction. For a second, I considered going easy on her, letting her get a goal and backing off just enough that I didn't seem like an asshole. But as soon as I thought that, she appeared next to me.

At the same time as she slid her way in front of me, she slapped my stick with hers, snapped the puck and ducked enough to shoulder me in the thigh, knocking me off balance.

"What the fu—"

I turned around just in time to see her slap shot the puck into the goal.

"And Maverick," she shouted in a commentators tone. "Was too stunned to speak. Don't underestimate the short girls. We're tiny but mighty."

"I'm not even mad," I said, watching her wave her stick around above her head as she skated in circles, throwing herself a victory huddle. Without the huddle. "I'm impressed. That was hot."

"Ah," she sighed, skating toward me. "A man who isn't intimidated at a woman's unapologetic athleticism. That's hot."

"I aim to please."

"However," she circled me, pushing the puck as she did slow laps. "It's the bare minimum. The respect I deserve."

"I wouldn't argue with that."

She slid to a stop in front of me. Close. I could smell her perfume and see the stadium lights highlighting on her cheek bones.

"What's your relationship with your mother like?" She asked.

"We're close. She's a ball buster and doesn't take shit. She raised me into the man I am today but we have our boundaries and no," I said, sensing her concern. "She doesn't get a say so in who I'm dating and she doesn't go monster in law, ever."

"We're not dating," she said and I tried not to let the sting show. "But that's good to know."

"We're definitely on the cusp of dating. We talk on the phone at night."

"I'm still a Canucks girl."

"Arguably one of our weakest opponents. Signing Maki for goalie was a death wish. The kid got one shut out this season and not to mention his habit of leaving the goal more than a dozen times."

"He's not the best we've had but come on, Matthew's is one of the worst lefts the Flames have had. His inability to watch the fucking puck is mind blowing."

"He's getting there."

She laughed. "The only thing he's good for is blowing his top and snapping sticks. Sure he can throw a punch but when the hand eye coordination really counts, he's out."

"He's fast," I said. "Look, it doesn't matter. We could argue about this all night. Canucks fan or not, I'm into you and I'm not going anywhere."

She folded her arms, watching me with a playful glare. "I have always wanted to sleep with the enemy."

Well, fuck me.

"But we're not dating," she said again.

"Not even in secret?"

She exhaled, a puff of white air blowing out from between her lips. Looking down, she twisted the stick in her hand. Something told me she had reservations about moving forward with me. Sure, this was just our second date and I wouldn't put a relationship label on it, but dating seemed like the right term for our arrangement.

If she was hesitant to take that step, how hard would it be to commit to the next stages of a relationship?

"Who hurt you?" I asked.

"Who hasn't?"

Damn, right in the heart with that one. "I won't."

She looked up at me and as beautiful as her confidence was, her pain was equally as devastating.

"I've heard that before," she mumbled.

"Have you?" I asked. "Or have you heard I love you. I'll always love you. I want to be with you forever. You're my everything."

Her lips parted but the words didn't pass, as if the response died on her tongue and she had no idea how to answer.

"Sure, that stuff is nice to hear, but it's not a promise to be faithful. It's a deterrent to distract from the fact that promising to be faithful was never something they intended to do. Pretty words help hide the fact that they know they can't make those promises."

"Well, when you put it like that."

"As long as it takes," I said. "I'll prove that I mean it when I say, I would never hurt you."

"You might not intend to but—"

Gripping her chin, I forced her to look at me. "If you want out at any time, I accept that. If I want out, I leave with honesty and open communication. Other women? Don't exist when I'm committed to us. There's a problem? We talk."

Her breathing quickened.

"Do you believe any of what I just said?"

"Sure."

"Liar."

"It's hard to believe," she said, frustration in her hoarse voice. "It's so easy to say all the right things, Phoenix. Doing them—"

"Is just as easy," I cut her off. "It's not hard to not to be a piece of shit. I've had past relationships. You can have a list of references if you want to chat about how it ended with those women."

She lightly laughed but the heartache in her gaze was prevalent. "My best friend and my fiancé slept together. It was like four years ago. I finally started dating again about six months ago and he— well— never mind. It just didn't work out."

"What'd he do?"

She peered up at me. "Slapped me."

My grip tightened around the stick.

"It was just once. I wound him up over something stupid and he flipped out. Once was enough though. I wasn't going to stick around and let it get worse."

Part of me wondered if that was why she kept poking at me when we had coffee. Did she want a reaction? A clue as to whether I would ever put a hand on her? Not a fucking chance and if I ever met the coward who touched her, I'd make sure he felt as frightened and violated as I'm sure she felt that day.

"Oh and my sister's husband slept with his colleagues sister at a Halloween party around the same time," she added. "Not a great track run for either of us."

"I'm about to change that."

"I wish there was a way to know that that's true."

"You shouldn't have to though, right? It's bullshit that you have to feel so guarded. I see you've been hurt, you want to pick better, you can't know though and all I can do is assure you that I'll be the better you deserve."

She tapped her stick on the ice, pushing the puck back and forth. "You're a hot hockey star, Phoenix. How do you even manage a relationship when the options for beautiful women would be unending?"

"Every night with the same beautiful woman, one who I adore, is better than countless nights with beautiful different women who I don't know or care about."

"You definitely know all the right lines."

Stealing the puck from her, I started skating toward the goal. "You'll see, Kinsley. You'll see."

I snapped a goal and circled back around to find Kinsley in the same spot, watching me with a soft smile.

"We're all tied up now," I said.

"I could go for something to eat."

"Yeah," I said. "What do you feel like? We can uh— we can pick something up and head back to mine? Or we—"

"That works," she said. "Right after I win overtime."

She took off with the puck again.

Back at home, Kinsley sat on the floor with a bowl of sweet potato fries in front of her folded legs. She had no issue with me devouring a cheeseburger. Thank fuck, I was starving and a little concerned that she'd prefer me not to eat meat in her presence. The fire place was on and the TV was playing the music video channel.

"This apartment is nice," she said, glancing around. It was better than anything I'd lived in before, that was for sure. It had floor to ceiling windows and an open plan. Lots of modern features and marble floors. I'm not sure it'd ever felt like a home though.

"Did you grow up in Vancouver?"

"For the most part," I said, legs out in front of me as I leaned against the black leather sofa. "Dad got a job in Alberta when I was fifteen so I ended up going to college there, scouted by the Flames but I did get an offer from the Oilers too."

"What made you choose the Flames?"

"A few things. Lanny McDonald for one," I said. "He's the man. I got along better with the coach. Leighton Baker, we became best mates in college, he'd been gunning for Flames his entire life. It just made sense I suppose."

"You could've ended up with the Canucks," Kinsley grinned. "If you hadn't left Vancouver. Imagine that."

"You wouldn't have found me nearly as interesting," I teased. "But I did grow up a Canucks fan, so you're probably right."

"Who said I find you interesting?"

I clutched my chest. "Ouch."

"What else can you do apart from push a puck around in skates?"

"I love how you made my entire career sound literally pathetic and talentless in one sentence."

Propping a fist under her chin, she raised her brow and waited.

"I can drum?"

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "I had to do all sorts of extra curricular in high school. Mom was in full support of going into the NHL but I had to get well versed in other shit so I wasn't a one trick pony. Her words, not mine."

"Were you in a band?"

"Na, that would've required too much commitment."

"Oh of course."

"I have a drum kit."

Her face lit up. "Show me."

Standing up, I offered her a hand and when she slipped hers in mine, I pulled her off the ground. Instead of letting go once she was standing next to me, I held on and led her through the living area toward the corridor.

It felt like a small victory that she didn't pull her hand back. The fit was perfect, the grooves of her fingers slotting into mine, pieces of a puzzle.

My third bedroom was a spare room full of gear, random shit I've bought online and a drum set over in the corner.

"Right," I finally let Kinsley's hand go and went behind the kit, sitting on the stool. I picked up the sticks and looked at her, watching me. "What do you want to hear?"

"What do you know?"

It only took me a moment to think before I started hitting the drums, belting out the tune to Rock You Like A Hurricane. It was one of the first songs I learned and it was definitely one of my favourites. Kinsley watched, smiled the whole time and nodded her head along to the beat.

For a moment I pictured her at one of the concerts she'd told me about when we had coffee. She said she'd been front row at the GooGoo dolls a few months ago, apparently they had one of the best tours of their career. I could imagine her in a grunge outfit with her hair in a mess and her make up thick, dancing her heart out. She had that beautiful, mesmerising energy that captured me last month.

When I was done, I lifted the bottom of my shirt and wiped the sweat off my brow. "Am I multitalented enough?"

"Honestly being able to compete in the NHL is impressive on its own, I just wanted to learn a little something more."

I laughed.

"Teach me?"

"To drum?"

"Yeah."

I gestured at my spread thighs. "You wanna take a seat."

She started to circle the drum set. "You'd give me the seat if I wanted it, right?"

"Absolutely. Just tell me to move."

When she didn't say a word and instead came around, swung a leg over and sat on my lap, I was fucking thrilled. Of course I'd have moved if she wanted me to. But I wasn't above being a bit cheeky. It paid off.

Her head was just in front of my chin, her back to my chest. I'd have to be careful or she'd feel me through my damn sweat pants. I gave her the sticks and then put my hands over hers, covering them entirely. I fucking loved the way she felt so close to me right now.

"Foot on the pedal down here," I tapped her thigh and she put her foot on mine. "Ready?"

"Mhmm," she said, shifting a little. The movement rubbed against my dick and I clenched my jaw.

Do not pop a fucking chub while this woman is sitting on me.

Guiding her hands, we started a slow tap on the drum kit. But I kept fucking it up because I was too distracted by how Kinsley felt against my body to think about the tune of this damn song I'd done a million times before.

Kinsley sighed after the third screw up and twisted in my lap to look at me over her shoulder. "Are you good?"

"No," I admitted. "My thoughts are way fucking elsewhere."

Her gaze fell to my mouth and my hand tightened around hers.

"Should we—"

"Kiss?" I finished her sentence.

The answer came when she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. The sound of the drum sticks hitting the hard wood floor and rolling away was accompanied by my hand moving to her throat and cupping her jaw. My other arm snaked across her middle and tugged her in close.

A little whimper left her when our tongues met and the sound made me wild. My fingers slipped under her beanie, tugging on the hair on the back of her head. Her hips started to move, rolling against my crotch and I groaned.

Yeah, now I was hard and there was no fucking hiding it.

"Hello, hello," a voice called from the hall about a second before Leighton appeared in the doorway. "Oh, shit, I—"

Kinsley and I parted but she didn't move from where she sat and I wasn't going to let her get up anyway. My arm tightened around her middle and I glared at Leighton from behind her.

"What the fuck, man?"

"I didn't know," Leighton avoided looking at us. "Just came to see if you wanted to come down to the bar. You weren't answering the phone."

"I don't."

"Hi," Kinsley gave him a bold wave. "I'm Kinsley."

"Leighton, hi. Good to meet you."

"You can go now," I said, shooting him another glare that wouldn't leave room for him to question how unwelcome he was right now.

"Yep," he spun around and gave a brief wave over his shoulder. "Catch up tomorrow. I'll uh— text next time."

"Good."

Kinsley and I sat in silence until we heard the front door shut. My forehead fell on her shoulder and I groaned at the interruption. However, her body vibrated with giggles.

"Not funny," I mumbled.

"A little bit," she twisted and gave me a kiss on the head. I fucking loved that.