Page 45 of Iced Out Mate

That conversation had happened a few days ago and still swirled around my head, distracting me from worrying about my stalker.

It frustrated me that I didn’t feel the same physical explosion that he did, or the same sensations mentioned in the stories. But there was also no denying that I had very intense feelings for Dyl. They developed slowly, naturally, and were only growing stronger by the day. Every text we sent, every cuddle, every joke, every fuck that left me panting with my legs shaking, everything pushed me further and further down the road that solely led to Dylan.

Dylan smacked the puck over to Gabriel. He took possession, swerved around an opponent, and then passed it back to Dyl. They worked like a singular mind. Gabe must have spotted the guy that was making a beeline toward Dyl. He shouldered him back, blocking him from stealing the puck.

Fuck yeah. Nice. You’ve got this, Dylan.

He was coming up on the goal with incredible speed and precise control. A white number seven outlined in baby blue marked the back of his jersey. He was so fucking attractive in his hockey gear. Made even hotter by the fact that I knew exactly how he looked underneath it.

I pictured his strong thighs flexing and twitching as they pushed him across the ice. The cords of muscle in his shoulders as he guided the puck with his stick. The tension in his calves as he slowed to line up the shot. The curve of his biceps as he channeled all his power into sending the puck past the goalie.

The wide and bright smile underneath his helmet as the puck flew into the goal and against the net.

“Fuck yeah!” Coach Julian shouted as the rest of the bench broke into cheers. One more and we were tied. Only two minutes left of the entire game. We could do it.

“Think we got this?”

The sudden and slightly shrill voice made me jerk to the side. George, the assistant coach, sat almost knee-to-knee with me. There was plenty of space on the bench. I inched over to my left, giving us some breathing room. “Tampa’s defense is good, but I think the guys spot some weaknesses. So yeah, yeah I think we’ve got it.”

“Same. Not a lot of injuries either, tonight. Makes your job much easier, huh?”

“It does,” I said, my attention drifting back to the ice. Eli had the puck now. He was as agile as a fox out there. If I hadn’t known, I would have thought he was a shifter like us. We weren’t totally at an advantage when it came to playing against humans, but we did have some faster reflexes and sharper senses that helped with making split-second decisions. Eli seemed to have all that and more, taking the puck past the red line and toward their goal again.

“You doing anything fun tonight? Exploring Tampa?” George asked as if there wasn’t one minute left on the clock.

“Hotel, I think. I’m tired.” I was being short but only because I didn’t want to miss what was happening.

Dylan had the puck. He was about to get body slammed but dodged it, sending the other guy into the boards behind him. The plexiglass rattled. The arena was loud, the cheering and chanting from both sides echoing through the space.

Dylan lined himself up again. It would be such a tough shot to make. Two of Tampa’s guys were almost on him. The goalie was primed and ready.

Dyl took his shot. I held my breath and nearly lost sight of the puck. I gasped, then broke into a cheer as the net shook and air horns blasted through the arena.

Overtime.

The guys took their spots on the ice. The energy in the arena was electric. Music was blaring—a popular hip hop song that got everyone hyped up. George was clapping his knees. He had a clipboard meant for taking notes that sat at his feet and appeared mostly empty, with a couple of random doodles in the corner.

“If you want to hang out after, let me know,” George said loudly over the music. “I’m thinking of hitting up a couple bars. Maybe karaoke if you’re into that.”

I could tell George really wanted to be friends with me, maybe even something more than that. I didn’t mind making new friends—although I wasn’t exactly the best at it and did prefer focusing my energy elsewhere in my life. I also didn’t want to do much after the game anyway.

Except maybe hang out with Dylan.

I’d been dreaming about him giving me another massage since that last time. I’d wake up with my sheets wet from how much pre-cum he’d draw out of me, even in my damn sleep. And watching him play tonight… it was lighting my blood on fire.

“Maybe we can hang when we get back to Burlington?” I suggested, stifling a yawn. “I’m going to bed early tonight.”

“Yeah, perfect, that sounds good.”

The airhorn blasted and the puck dropped as the overtime round began. Coach hadn’t swapped out any of the guys. I watched as Dyl lined up with Emmy at the center and Gabe as the right winger.

The guys on the ice exploded into action. Skates kicked up clouds of ice as they cut across the rink, everyone fighting to gain control of the puck. Sticks were slapped, mothers cursed out, and one of the Tampa guys went sliding backward on his ass after a shoulder from Dylan.

But then the Tampa guys stole the puck away from Gabe. The bench around me got deathly quiet. Only Coach was shouting, encouraging, pushing.

Dyl was trying to catch up but it was Emmy who was the closest. He went for a steal but couldn’t manage. Soren was at the goal. I could see the fire in his eyes from underneath his helmet. Two burning dark sparks trained only on the puck.

The Tampa player aimed, took his shot. Emmy crossed its path. The puck went rogue and lifted off the ice. It bounced off his stick and ricocheted upward.