Chapter Seven
A llison slipped into the back of the media room, immediately overwhelmed by the wall of reporters, cameras, and equipment. The air felt thick with anticipation—and the distinct scent of hockey gear permeated every corner of the area. She tucked herself behind a tall cameraman, grateful for the cover.
The team filed in, led by Coach Vicky in her signature blazer, a deep forest green that made her auburn hair shine under the harsh lights. Kane followed, looking sharp in a charcoal suit that made his blue eyes even more striking. The rest of the team crowded in behind them, Dmitri practically bouncing with energy while Oliver already had his phone out, no doubt live-streaming to his followers.
"We'll start with questions about Friday's away game," Coach Vicky announced, her voice carrying that hint of Canadian lilt that became more pronounced during press conferences.
A forest of hands shot up. Coach pointed to a reporter in the front row.
"Kane, the team seems energized. What’s changed?”
Kane leaned forward to his microphone, and Allison's stomach fluttered at the familiar crooked smile. "The guys have been working hard. Our defensive strategies are clicking, and everyone's buying into the system Coach has put in place."
"But what about the lucky puck?" Another reporter called out. "Sources say Michael Warrant's Olympic game-winner has been the reason. Any truth to that?"
Allison's chest tightened. Kane's smile faltered slightly, but before he could answer, Dmitri grabbed his microphone.
"Is magic,” he declared with theatrical flair. "Victory comes from believing."
Several reporters laughed. Oliver rolled his eyes but was clearly recording the moment for his channel.
"We're focused on our gameplay," Kane redirected, though Allison noticed his ears had gone slightly pink. "Superstitions are part of hockey, but—"
"Will the puck be at Friday's game?" someone interrupted.
Coach Vicky leaned forward. "The team's success comes from months of hard work, strategic adjustments, and player development. Now, about our special teams' performance..."
But the questions kept circling back to the puck, to her grandfather's legacy, to luck and superstition and winning streaks. Allison's skin crawled with each mention. When she saw a photographer scanning the crowd, she ducked out, her heart pounding as she escaped into the hallway.
She hadn't meant to pace outside the arena's employee exit, but somehow forty-five minutes passed before the door opened and Kane emerged, his tie loosened and hair slightly mussed as if he'd been running his hands through it.
"Hey.” He leaned in to give her a quick kiss. "I’m sorry to keep you waiting."
"That’s okay." She hugged herself against the chilly evening air. "Quite a circus in there."
Kane grimaced. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. The media, they get fixated on storylines and—" He broke off, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Let’s just go to dinner."
The car ride to O'Connor's was quiet, awkward tension thrumming between them. The pub was exactly what Allison would have expected Kane to choose—upscale enough for a proper date but with the comfortable warmth of a traditional Irish pub. Dark wood panels lined the walls, and intimate booths were tucked into cozy alcoves. A hostess led them to a corner table partially screened by an ornate room divider.
"Wine list?" she offered.
"Please," Allison said, just as Kane said, "Beer's fine."
They shared a self-conscious laugh. The hostess diplomatically left both menus.
Kane fiddled with his water glass, turning it in slow circles. "So."
"So." Allison studied her menu without really seeing it. "Interesting press conference."
He winced. "About that—"
"Can I start you off with drinks?" their server interrupted.
They ordered—wine for her, craft beer for him—and fell back into uncomfortable silence once they were alone.
"Listen," Kane started again, then stopped. He sighed heavily. "I know the whole puck thing is weird. And I hate putting pressure on you. It's just..." He trailed off, staring into his water glass like it held answers.
"Just what?"
"I'm not..." He took a breath. "I'm not sure I'm cut out to be captain."
The vulnerability in his voice made her chest ache. "Kane..."
"The guys look to me for leadership, you know? And we were losing. Game after game. I could see it wearing on everyone. Dmitri stopped doing his silly goal celebrations. Oliver barely posted anymore. Even Coach started looking worried." He smiled without humor. "I couldn’t score a goal to save my life. Do you know what it's like to feel responsible for crushing your whole team's spirit?"
Their drinks arrived. Kane took a long pull of his beer before continuing.
"Then you showed up with that puck, and suddenly we won a game, and I scored three goals. The guys are happy again. Dmitri's back to doing ice skating and ballet during practice. And I know—I know it's just a superstition. But if it gives them confidence, helps them believe..." He met her eyes. "Is that really such a bad thing?"
Allison swirled her wine, considering. She thought about the press conference, how Kane had tried to deflect attention from the puck to his teammates' hard work. How he'd looked uncomfortable with the questions but endured them anyway.
"It's not about the puck for you at all, is it?" she realized. "It's about your team."
His smile was small but genuine. "They're my family. I'd do anything for them." He hesitated. "Including asking too much of a beautiful librarian who probably thinks we're all crazy."
The comment startled a laugh out of her. "Only mostly crazy."
"Hey now."
"I mean, Dmitri does figure skating with hockey skates."
"True." Kane's eyes crinkled. "Though after this morning in the storage room, I'm not sure we can judge anyone's behavior."
Heat flooded her cheeks at the memory of the equipment room. "That was..."
"Hot?" His voice dropped lower. "Because I've been thinking about it all day."
The server's return broke the moment. They ordered food, but the earlier tension had shifted into something else entirely.
"So," Kane said once they were alone again. "About Friday's game..."
Allison took a fortifying sip of wine. "You want me to bring the puck."
"Only if you're comfortable with it." But hope blazed in his eyes.
She thought about his earlier vulnerability, his dedication to his team. About how he'd looked leading the press conference—confident on the surface but carrying so much weight on his shoulders.
"Okay."
"Really?"
"Really." She smiled at his obvious delight. "But you owe me."
His grin turned wicked. "I can think of a few ways to repay you. Starting with a proper end to this morning's interrupted moment."
"Kane!" But she was laughing.
Their food arrived, but Allison barely tasted it. She was too aware of Kane's every movement—the flex of his forearms as he cut his steak, the way his lips curved around the rim of his beer glass, how his eyes kept finding hers with increasing heat.
The conversation flowed easier now, ranging from funny neighbor stories to childhood memories. Kane told her about learning to skate on a frozen pond behind his house. She shared tales of growing up in her grandfather's shadow. They compared notes on Mrs. Peterson's various attempts at matchmaking among the building residents.
"Did you know she tried to set up Dmitri with her granddaughter?" Kane asked, grinning. "The language barrier was a struggle. She wanted to learn Russian. So he taught her to swear and now that's all they say to each other in the hallway."
"Better than what she tried with Mr. Collins and the lady from 3C."
"Oh god, the cat incident?" Kane shuddered dramatically. "We don't talk about that."
Allison found herself leaning closer across the table, drawn in by his warmth and charm. The earlier awkwardness had completely dissolved, replaced by an easy intimacy that felt both exciting and comfortable.
When the server dropped off their check, Kane's hand found hers again. "Come up for coffee?"
The invitation sparked heat low in her belly. "Your place or mine?"
"Yours." His voice roughened. "My apartment could have too many interruptions.”
The elevator ride to her floor was charged with anticipation. Kane stood close enough that she could feel his body heat, smell his cologne. His fingers brushed her lower back as they walked to her door, and she fumbled with her keys.
"Here." He steadied her hand, then pressed her against the door as soon as it closed behind them. "Let me help with that."
The kiss was nothing like their interrupted moments in the equipment room. This was slower, deeper, full of promise. Kane took his time, one hand tangled in her hair while the other traced the curve of her hip. Allison melted into him, all her earlier doubts forgotten in the heat of his touch.
"Coffee?" she managed when they came up for air.
"Later." He kissed down her neck, making her gasp. "I have other priorities right now."
They left a trail of clothes between the door and her bedroom, pausing for heated kisses against various surfaces. When they finally tumbled onto her bed, Kane propped himself up on one elbow to look at her.
"You're beautiful." His voice was rough with emotion. "I want to spend more time with you. And not just because of some lucky puck."
His fingers traced along her arms, then up to her face, cupping her cheeks and brushing his thumbs across her lips.
"Touch me," she whispered, roaming her hands over his broad shoulders and well-defined abs.
Kane trailed kisses down from her lips to her breasts, his tongue swirling around one nipple before sucking it into his mouth. He then switched to the other, repeating the motion. Allison's breath hitched as he continued this sensual exploration. With one hand on the nape of his neck pulling him closer, she felt his erection pressing hard against her thigh.
His kisses seared her skin, each one a promise of more to come. Kane moved lower, stopping to swirl his tongue around her navel before continuing down her stomach. As he reached the juncture of her thighs, he paused to look up at her, dark eyes filled with desire. Allison nodded in silent approval, and he lowered himself, his warm breath against her inner thighs causing shivers to run down her spine.
His tongue slowly explored her wetness, while she quivered. Kane gently traced circles around Allison's clit. Her hips arched off the bed. When she was writhing beneath him, he slid two fingers inside her. She moaned in appreciation. As he began thrusting them in and out, he intensified his attention on her clit, enveloping it between his lips and sucking lightly
"You taste so good," he whispered.
Allison cried out as he stroked her fast. His other hand found its way back up to cup her breast, squeezing it firmly as she writhed beneath him.
Her moans grew louder as she felt the pleasure build. She clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as she whispered his name over and over again. She shivered into an intense orgasm that had her shuddering with bliss. Kane continued to lavish attention on her, kissing and caressing her sensitive areas, his breath hot against her skin. Allison trembled, recovering from the intensity of her orgasm.
As he moved back up to meet her lips, she could taste herself on his tongue. Kane's cock was hard against her thigh, and she wanted to feel him inside her.
“There’s a condom in the bedside table,” she said, feeling a little shy.
His broad grin chased that away and she watched in rapt fascination as he tore open the packet with his teeth and eagerly rolled the condom down his thick member.
He positioned himself between her legs and rubbed the head of his cock through her drenched folds.
"Please," she whispered.
He responded by slowly pushing into her, inch by inch. The sensation was incredible and Allison moaned softly, her eyes locked on his. Kane was as deep as he could go now, and he paused to let her adjust to him. Allison looked up at him, a mixture of awe and desire in her eyes.
"You're so big," she breathed.
"Want me to stop?" Kane asked, his voice low and seductive.
“Hell no," Allison pleaded, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I want you to move.”
Kane thrust slowly at first, as they savored the feel of their bodies moving together. Then he began moving faster, harder, making her gasp each time he hit that sweet spot. Their eyes met and held while he fucked her with slow, deep thrusts. He leaned down to kiss her again, gently probing her mouth with his tongue as he had done with her pussy. The bed creaked loudly with their passion. The sensation of him inside her was utterly overwhelming. Each time he thrust into her, she felt it all the way to her core. Her moans grew louder and more insistent with each passing second.
"You feel incredible," he grunted out between thrusts. "I can’t take it anymore."
She gasped his name, urging him on. Her body tightened around him. Kane increased his pace, his hips slapping against with each thrust. Allison could feel the intense pleasure, surging and unstoppable. Her cries filled the room as she rode the crest of her climax.
"That's it, baby," Kane growled, his voice rough with desire. "Come for me."
He picked up his pace, sending more shockwaves of joy through her. Kane came hard, groaning her name as he spasmed inside her. He collapsed on top of her, panting for breath as they both rode out the aftershocks of their passion.
Kane rolled off of her, pulling out carefully. He disposed of the condom before drawing her into his arms. They cuddled for a while, just enjoying the afterglow. He traced lazy patterns on her skin as their breathing slowed.
"Stay," she murmured when he shifted.
"Wild horses couldn't drag me away." He pulled her closer, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. "Though Dmitri might try if I'm late to practice."
"Let him." She was already drifting off, warm and satisfied. "He can do his figure eights without you."
Kane's chuckle was the last thing she heard before sleep claimed her, and her last coherent thought was that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t going to end with her regretting sleeping with another hockey player.