Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys #2)(33)
“We’ll have to ask if we’re allowed out of our cage yet, but if Graham says yes, then sure.”
“Do you reckon this is what Ezra feels like all the time? I mean, before Anton. He was always doing these types of photoshoots and getting in trouble by his team’s PR for being photographed with a million different people … I don’t even know if I’m allowed to go to the bathroom without permission.”
“It’s okay.” I try to reassure him. “We’ve done the hard part. Now we just have to take some photos. It’s no big deal.”
“But … affection and stuff.”
“They’re not going to ask us to do anything we haven’t already done. I’ve spooned you while I was naked before, for fuck’s sake. You’ve never cared before now.”
“What if they ask us to kiss?”
“Again. We’ve been there, done that, but I doubt they will. Kissing photos are tacky.”
“They are? Jessica always wanted us to be kissing in videos and photos and stuff.”
“Exhibit A,” I mumble.
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Let’s get out there.” I walk past him to head for the exit, but he grabs my arm and pulls me to him.
“I know I said I was okay with kissing you, and I am, but maybe we should get one out of the way. So we know for sure I won’t mess it up.”
“A-are you asking me to kiss you?” I stammer.
“I’m terrified everyone’s going to know this is all fake, and I’m freaking out here, and what if—”
Against my better judgment, I step forward and press my mouth to his.
I ignore the pang of heartache, the longing I’ve carried around for years, and try to show him I’m still the same Tripp.
I’m his best friend.
He’s my heart and soul.
And nothing will ever change that.
Not even his inability to love me back.
Thirteen
DEX
Unlike the first time, I’m prepared. And when Tripp’s mouth meets mine, the tingles that race through me are a welcome relief. I’d thought maybe our first kiss was a fluke, but nope. This is … uh, yeah, Tripp can kiss. I grip his biceps the way I’d pictured earlier and part my lips, waiting for him to do the same. It takes a moment, and then, when our tongues slide together—I suck in a breath I almost choke on.
I pull away, trying to get oxygen running back to my brain and, surprisingly, blood too, since it seems determined to head in the opposite direction.
“Right, well, I’m feeling better about things. Let’s go.” I can’t even look Tripp in the eye after that. He reads me too easily, and I don’t want him to see that I liked kissing him when I have no clue what’s going through my head. I’d never hear the end of it.
I kissed my husband, and I liked it, but to me, it was no different than when he holds me or I kiss his cheek or we stay up all night talking.
It makes me … full. Happy.
And, actually, kinda hard, so I guess that’s one new thing.
I lead the way out onto the ice, where we pose in our skates, with and without our sticks, together and solo. It’s no different from any of the other photoshoots we’ve ever done, and I’m able to relax into it, stop thinking, and act on instinct.
Even when Tripp and I are asked to horse around and act playful, that shit is easy too. Maybe Damon was onto something, and this whole marriage is a part I can nail. Other than hockey, there isn’t much in my life that comes effortlessly to me, but being Tripp’s husband might be one of them.
When the photographer pauses to check through the photos, I speed toward Tripp and pull into a sudden stop, sending shavings of ice at him.
“Oh, someone thinks they’re clever.”
“Race you to the other side and back?”
Instead of answering, Tripp takes off.
“Cheater!”
His laughter echoes back to me as I break into a sprint. He has the head start, but while all that bulk might be good for guarding our goals, it puts him at a disadvantage. My career is built on speed, and I’ve got the body to go with it, so by the time we’re rounding the goals at the other end, I pass him. Tripp curses, and I blow him a kiss before pushing harder to take the lead. He doesn’t take it easy on me, and as I fly up the ice, the sound of his skates not far behind me, I’m lighter than I’ve been in a long time. Hockey is nonstop during the season to the point I want a break, but in off-season, I always miss it. Being on the ice, with my best friend at my side, is a feeling so indescribable, I know I’ll never get it again outside of this.
When we reach the starting point, I pull up sharply, Tripp barely seconds behind. He’s still laughing, and getting that sound from him fills me with a pride so deep, I reach for him and kiss the side of his head.
At the sound of a loud click, I glance up to find a camera pointed toward us. I’d almost forgotten about them.
“That was great, guys,” Russel calls. “Only the locker room ones to do, then you’re free.”
Tripp and I follow them down the chute to the locker room, where the photographer starts to set up while we take off our skates. “These are going to be the more intimate shots,” Sid says. “Out there was to showcase your friendship. In here is your relationship.”