Puck Me, I’m Yours (Hawthorne University Hockey #1)

21. Breck

21

Breck

I weave through the throng of people backstage, Del’s hand in mine, my bare chest glistening with sweat and pride. The giant 'A' painted across my torso feels like a badge of honor, even as curious eyes dart my way. I catch snippets of whispered conversations.

I resist the urge to explain myself. Yeah, I look ridiculous, but it was worth it to see Del's face light up when she spotted me in the crowd. I needed to go big, bold, impossible to miss. I needed her to know I was here for her.

We pause at the doors leading out of the rink, and I press myself right up behind her. “You’re amazing.”

Del rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of amusement in her expression. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously supportive," I counter, then soften my voice. "Seriously, Del, you were incredible out there. I mean, holy shit. You and Lachlan absolutely killed it."

A faint blush colors her cheeks, and I resist the urge to trace it with my fingertips. Lachlan steps forward, clapping me on the shoulder.

"Thanks, mate," he says with a grin. "Glad you could make it. Though next time, maybe keep the shirt on, yeah?"

I laugh, feeling a rush of affection for Del's supportive partner. "No promises. The ladies love it."

Del snorts, but I catch the way her eyes linger on my abs. Score one for shirtless Breck.

Lachlan's fiancée, their coach, appears at his side. "Great job, you two," she says warmly. "Get some rest tonight. We'll debrief tomorrow."

As they walk away, Del turns to me. "I need to change. Come on."

I nod, following her to a quieter area lined with lockers and duffel bags. As we walk, I can't help but marvel at the grace in her movements, even off the ice.

"So," I start, leaning against a locker. "When did you learn to defy gravity like that? Because I'm pretty sure what you did out there wasn't humanly possible."

Del laughs, the sound sending tingles down my spine. "Years of practice and a dash of magic," she teases.

I can't take it anymore. The second Del steps closer, I pull her in, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that's been building all week. She melts against me, her hands sliding up my bare chest, and I swear I see stars.

When we finally break apart, I'm breathless. "God, I missed you," I murmur, resting my forehead against hers.

Del's cheeks are flushed, her eyes sparkling. "I missed you too, you big goof," she says, tracing the 'A' on my chest.

I clear my throat, suddenly nervous. "So, uh, I talked to Coach. He said I could ride home with you... if that's cool?"

Her smile is radiant, and I feel like I've just scored the game-winning goal. "That's more than cool," she says, and I can't help but kiss her again.

As we pull apart, I'm scanning the room for a more private spot to show her just how much I missed her when the door swings open. In walks this smug-looking dude with a girl hanging off his arm like she's afraid he'll evaporate.

It takes me a second, but then it clicks. Rafe Blackwood and Dakota Sloane. I've never met them, but I've seen enough of their performances online to know who they are. More importantly, I know what they did to Del. Okay, so I don’t know details. She’s never opened up about it, but I know they hurt her. Bad.

I feel her stiffen beside me, and instinctively, I move closer. Del's never told me the whole story, but I don't need details to know it cut her deep. My chest tightens, a mix of protectiveness and anger bubbling up.

"You okay?" I whisper, giving her hand a squeeze.

Del nods, but her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine," she says, but I can hear the tension in her voice.

I want to whisk her away, to shield her from whatever pain these two caused. But I also know Del's strong as hell, and she doesn't need me to fight her battles. So I stand there, ready to support her however she needs, and silently dare anyone to mess with my girl.

Rafe's gaze lands on Del, and I swear the temperature in the room drops ten degrees. His expression is all smug superiority, but there's something else there too—a flicker of jealousy when he spots me at Del's side. I can feel my muscles tensing, but I force myself to stay calm. This isn't about me.

I keep my eyes on Del, watching for any sign she needs an out. But Rafe, the cocky bastard, locks eyes with me and starts sauntering over like he owns the place. A smirk spreads across his face, and I have to resist the urge to wipe it off with my fist.

"Well, well," Rafe drawls, his eyes flicking between Del and me. "If it isn't the great Delaney Quinn, still skating circles around the competition."

I can feel Del's fingers tighten around mine, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. Stay cool, Breck. Don't let this asshole get to you.

Rafe's gaze slides over to me, and his smirk widens. "Didn't know hockey players were so into figure skating now. Must be a new trend."

The condescension in his voice makes my blood boil. I open my mouth to fire back, but Del beats me to it.

"Some of us appreciate talent in all its forms, Rafe," she says coolly. "But I wouldn't expect you to understand that."

I bite back a grin. That's my girl. Sharp as a skate blade and twice as deadly.

I feel my face tighten, but I force myself to stay cool. No way I'm letting this smug prick get under my skin. "I'm just here to support Del," I say, keeping my voice steady.

Rafe's eyes narrow, and he leans in close, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "Yeah? Funny, I guess I was right, then. Someone like you could never actually appreciate the sport."

The insult stings, but I clamp down on the urge to deck him. What the hell does he know about me? About us? I'm more than just some dumb jock, even if I don't fit into his precious figure skating world.

Del's hand slips from mine as she rolls her eyes and moves to sit down. I watch her gracefully lower herself to untie her skates, a few strands of her blonde hair escaping her bun and framing her face. God, she's beautiful. And way too good for this drama.

Suddenly, there's a presence at my side that definitely isn't Del. I turn to find Dakota sidling up to me, all fake smiles and saccharine sweetness. What the fuck?

"Hi there," she purrs, her hand brushing my arm. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."

My mind reels. Is this really happening? I glance at Del, but she's focused on her skates, probably trying to tune out Rafe's bullshit. I swallow hard, feeling like I've stumbled into some bizarre figure skating soap opera.

Rafe's eyes narrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He steps closer, his voice dripping with disdain. "Tell me, do you always show up to elegant events half-naked, or is this a special occasion?"

I glance down at my painted chest, suddenly feeling ridiculous. The big 'A' seems childish now, out of place in this world of sequins and spotlights.

"Look, man," I start, trying to keep my cool, "I'm just here for Del—"

"Oh, I'm sure you are," Rafe cuts in, his tone mockingly sympathetic. "Enjoy your time with her. It won't last, you know. A girl like Delaney needs someone who can keep up, not drag her down."

My fists clench at my sides. Who does this asshole think he is?

"See you in Poland," he adds with a wink, before sauntering away, Dakota in tow.

Del looks up as he leaves, her green eyes flashing with anger. "God, I don't know what I ever saw in that asshole."

I force a smile, but Rafe's words are already burrowing under my skin. The doubt creeps in, insidious and unwelcome. What if he's right? I'm not exactly the picture of refinement. Hell, I'm standing here shirtless while everyone else is in designer clothes.

"You okay?" Del asks, her hand on my arm.

"Yeah, of course," I lie, plastering on a grin. But inside, I'm spiraling. What if I really am just a distraction? What if I'm holding her back from greatness?

Del's eyes narrow, and I know I'm not fooling her. She's too perceptive, too in tune with me already. It's both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Breck," she says softly, her fingers trailing down my arm. "You can't listen to a fucking word Rafe says. He's a manipulative asshole."

I nod, but the doubts are still there, gnawing at me. "I know, it's just—"

"You aren't a distraction," she interrupts, her voice firm. "And you definitely aren't a rebound."

Her fingers gently brush against my cheek, and I can feel the warmth of her touch as she tilts my face to meet hers, forcing me to see her. The tenderness of it makes the ache in my chest intensify, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s real. She’s real.

I stare at her for a long moment, still grappling with the weight of everything. And that’s when she drops her next bombshell.

"I thought you were. A distraction, I mean," she admits quietly, her eyes searching mine. "I thought anything outside my perfectly curated world was just another way to derail my dreams. Especially after the extra load I’ve taken on with Hawthorne this year. After I had to claw my way back thanks to Rafe and his bullshit. But you're not. You’re not a distraction, Breck. You make me better. Faster. Stronger."

I can’t help but snort, the disbelief creeping into my voice. "Okay, Daft Punk," I mutter, feeling the slight tension lift between us.

I want to believe her, I really do. But all I can think about is how out of place I am in her world. I'm just a hockey player from a small town, and she's... well, she's her . Graceful, ambitious, destined for Olympic glory.

She studies my face for a moment, then sighs. "You're not hearing me, are you?"

Before I can respond, she's moving past me. I turn, confused, only to see her heading for the door. For a split second, I think she's leaving, and my heart plummets. But then I hear the soft click of the lock.

Del turns back to me, her green eyes blazing with determination. "Do I need to suck some sense into you?"

Holy. Shit. My brain short-circuits, and suddenly I'm harder than I've ever been in my life. I swear I could punch a hole through the wall with my dick right now and still have some left over to fuck my girl.

She saunters towards me, a predatory gleam in her eye. "Well?" she prompts, dropping to her knees in front of me.

"I... uh..." I stammer, watching in awe as she starts undoing my pants. This can't be happening. But it is, and when she lowers them, my dick springs free, slapping against my stomach.

Those big, beautiful green eyes look up at me, and I know I'm not going to last long. I run my thumb over her plump bottom lip, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of control.

In my head, I start reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, hoping it'll keep me from nutting the second she wraps those sexy lips around me. "I pledge allegiance to the flag..." I mutter under my breath.

Del raises an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"Nothing," I say quickly. "Just... holy fuck, Del."

She smirks, and I realize I'm in way over my head. But as she leans in, all I can think is that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Her warm, wet mouth engulfs me, and I make a choked noise that's somewhere between a moan and a whimper. My hands fly to her head, but I'm not sure if it's to push her away or pull her closer.

"Mine," she growls, and before I can even process her words, she swallows me again, deeper this time.

Fuck me, she's good at this. My hips buck forward, seeking out her warmth as she sucks me in. I close my eyes, trying to focus on anything other than her talented mouth and the way she's working my dick. The corner of her mouth curls up in a smirk, and I know she's enjoying every damn second of this.

As if she can read my mind, she grabs my balls, squeezing just the right amount. That's it. I'm done for. I groan as I shoot my load down her throat, my entire body shaking with the force of my orgasm.

Del leans back, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. She wipes a small drop of cum from the corner of her mouth with her thumb, then slowly, deliberately sucks it clean. My heart nearly stops.

"Jesus, baby," I breathe, watching as she tucks me back into my pants. How is she so fucking perfect?

I can't take it anymore. I reach out, grabbing a fistful of her silky hair, and pull her to her feet. Our lips crash together, and I pour every ounce of desire, every bit of awe I feel for her into that kiss. I don’t care that I can taste myself on her tongue. If anything it just makes me want her more.

She pulls back slightly, humming against my lips. "Mine," she whispers, her breath hot on my skin.

"Yours," I promise without hesitation, my voice ragged. "God, Del, I'm so fucking yours."

I kiss her again, softer this time, savoring the taste of her. My hands cup her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks. When we finally part, I rest my forehead against hers.

"You know," I say, a grin spreading across my face, "if this is how you plan to knock sense into me, I might need to be an idiot more often."

Del rolls her eyes, but I catch the smile she's trying to hide. "Don't push your luck, Monroe."

I laugh, pulling her closer. "Wouldn't dream of it, Quinn."

I never dreamed about a girl. Never sat up at night picturing my future wife or imagining the perfect partner. But if I had—if I’d ever let myself go there—she’d look exactly like Delaney Quinn. It’s like she stepped out of some unspoken hope I didn’t even know I had.

So she isn't sugar, spice, and everything nice—she’s grit, fire, and pure fucking talent. She has hard edges. But she has a softness she keeps hidden, for me and only me, even if she fights me every step of the way. I know exactly how to make her melt, and God, I love every second of it.

I love her.