Page 6 of Pucked Into Position

Ryan

My alarm goes off too early the next morning.

I groan, rolling over to shut it off. I want to just hit snooze and go back to bed, but I’ve got to try and talk to Lana before she leaves for class and I head to the arena for practice.

I’d stayed up far past midnight last night, despite my exhaustion, giving myself one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever experienced to thoughts of Lana in the shower, followed by excessive chastising for thinking about my best friend’s sister that way.

Rubbing a hand over my face, I push to my feet and pull on a clean shirt and gray sweats. I open my bedroom door and the rich, intoxicating scent of breakfast hits me, making my stomach growl. I quickly relieve myself in the bathroom, splash my face with cold water, and then join Lana in the kitchen.

I pause, watching her hum to herself as she cracks eggs into a bowl. She’s wearing a loose, cropped white T-shirt and denim shorts that hug her curves perfectly. My fingers twitch, wanting to feel her squirming against me as I gently grip her soft, blonde waves, using them to hold her steady while kissing her speechless.

No. I can’t do that.

I clear my throat and Lana spins around, her feet tangling together. She throws her arms out to catch herself, nearly knocking over the bowl of freshly cracked eggs. I jump in and catch her and the bowl before either can fall.

“Oh!” She’s staring up at me with wide eyes, and it registers that I’m holding her. Her body feels so small pressed against mine, and she fits perfectly in my arms. Like she was made to be there.

“I don’t remember you being quite this clumsy,” I murmur, pulling her closer.

Her breath hitches and she sputters, trying to answer. “Well…I—”

“It’s alright, I’ll be there to catch you when you fall.” I give her waist a final squeeze before reluctantly letting go of her. Immediately missing her warmth.

She laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Thanks, Ryan.”

My heart stutters and butterflies fill my stomach. I try to tell myself it’s just because I’m hungry.

“Whatcha making?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Well, I saw your diet plan on the fridge this morning—not sure how I missed it last night—and figured I could make us some eggs and turkey bacon. I also washed the berries that looked like they were about to go bad.” She fidgets with the hem of her T-shirt, then seems to remember the eggs need whisking. “I can go grocery shopping later if that would be helpful.”

I watch, in awe that she even thought to make sure it was something I could eat, as she scrambles the eggs and pulls the bacon from the oven.

“You don’t have to do that,” I manage to get out.

“I don’t mind. I know you’ve got practice and might be late a lot of nights. It’s the least I can do since you’re letting me stay here for free.” She talks quickly, obviously nervous.

Tucker certainly wasn’t lying when he said she was considerate.

“Would you like me to get you something to drink?” she asks while plating the food.

I realize I’ve been glued in one spot and jump into action. “I’ve got it. Orange juice okay for you?” I ask, reaching into the fridge. The berries she mentioned are sitting in a bowl on the top shelf.

“I prefer milk, if you have it.”

“One percent okay?” I ask.

She looks over her shoulder and grimaces at me. “I guess,” she moans dramatically, like she used to whenever Tucker would ask her if something was okay.

Rolling my eyes, I get out two glasses and pour our drinks. I then meet her at the breakfast table, trying to come up with how to tell her about yesterday.

Better to just get it over with I suppose.

“Lana.”

“Huh?” She looks up, a forkful of eggs halfway to her mouth.

“I’ve got something I need to discuss with you,” I say, more serious now.