The Secret Play (Pucking Daddies #3)

23. Casey

Chapter 23

Casey

T he moment I noticed the empty spot on my thumb, my stomach sank.

I froze in the middle of tying my skate, staring down at my hand like it didn’t belong to me. My father’s wedding ring. The one I always wore. The one I never took off, except?—

My breath hitched as the memory came flooding back. Gemma’s kitchen. The sink. Washing the dishes before I left in a rush.

I had left it there.

Cursing under my breath, I yanked my skate off, the practice session now forgotten. My players milled around, focused on their own routines, but I felt their glances. The rumor hadn’t gone away. It wouldn’t for a while. Juicy gossip clung like smoke on your skin. After my run-in with Nico the day before, this—this ridiculous, personal slip-up—was just another log on the fire.

I was not the man I wanted to be. Not yet.

I needed that ring. It was a part of me as much as the hand that was now unbearably naked. The ring was the last part of my father, a symbol that meant he wasn’t truly gone. As long as I had that, I had him.

My father had been a truly stand-up guy. He was kind to strangers, went to church every Sunday, and loved my mother fiercely. For years, I held myself to that standard, and now…now who the hell was I?

A man in love. No, scratch that. An idiot in love.

Maybe love makes you stupid. Dad always said so.

I couldn’t focus, not with the thought of that ring sitting on Gemma’s counter. It wasn’t just a piece of jewelry, and I needed it back. What if she knocked it into the sink? Or what if Winnie took it to play with and lost it?

I shot off a text to Gemma. No matter how awkward things were between us, I had to get my ring back. She wouldn’t hold it hostage. She wasn’t that type of woman. Even still, I didn’t want to see her yet. I wasn’t ready to face the mess we’d made, to have the conversations I knew we needed to have.

But this wasn’t about that. It was just about the ring.

Her response came quickly. Of course. I’ll be home after 7.

That was it. Simple. Neutral. Nothing about Winnie, nothing about the tension that had hung between us since the night I left. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

By the time I pulled up outside her house, my nerves were beyond frayed. I’d told myself this was just a quick visit, nothing more. I’d get the ring, thank her, and leave. Simple.

But as I walked up to the door, my heart pounded in my chest. What if she wanted to talk? Was I ready for that? For any of this? What if?—

She opened it before I could knock, and the sight of her made my brain fuzz out. A loose sweater and leggings, her pretty red hair pulled back into a messy bun. No makeup, no pretense—just Gemma, exactly as she was. Perfect.

“Hi,” she said softly, her brown eyes searching mine.

“Hi,” I replied, my voice rougher than I intended.

She stepped aside, letting me in, and the familiar warmth of her home wrapped around me like a blanket. The smell of something faintly floral lingered in the air, and I caught a glimpse of Winnie’s toys scattered in the corner of the living room.

“Your ring’s in the kitchen.”

“Thanks. Is Winnie here?”

She shook her head. “Thought it would be easier if she weren’t.”

I nodded once as we hooked a turn into the kitchen. Dad’s ring was exactly where I’d left it, sitting on the edge of the sink. I picked it up, turning it over in my fingers, and a wave of guilt crashed over me.

I’d left a piece of my father here. A piece of my past. A piece of myself. All because things had turned between me and the woman I loved. The woman who kept my daughter from me for five years.

That conflict warred in my head as I slipped the ring back onto my thumb. At least my hand felt whole again. “Thank you.”

She nodded, leaning against the counter. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but there was something vulnerable in her expression, something that made my chest lock up. “Casey?—”

“Gemma, don’t. I didn’t come here to talk.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“For the ring,” I said, though the words felt hollow.

“Is that really the only reason?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could say anything, she closed the distance between us and slanted her mouth up to mine. The first touch of her lips was soft, tentative, but it was enough to unravel the fragile thread of control I’d been clinging to. No one had ever kissed me the way she did. Like she needed me.

I kissed her back, hard, my hands finding her waist and pulling her tight against me. The world burned away—Nico, the rumors, the playoffs—disappearing in the heat of the moment.

“Gemma,” I murmured against her lips, my voice raw. Her name was a plea, but I didn’t know what I begged for. Mercy? Absolution?

She didn’t respond, her fingers threading through my hair as she deepened the kiss. When she moaned in my mouth, I was done. We stumbled toward the counter, my hands roaming over her back, her waist, the curve of her hips. She tugged at my jacket, pulling it off and tossing it aside before reaching for the hem of my shirt.

Something deep inside bellowed that this was a bad idea. No good could come from sleeping with Gemma now. There was too much left unsaid, too many logistics to figure out. The world tried to invade my thoughts, a cacophony of voices, each demanding attention. What about your career? What about Nico? The team?

But my body didn’t give a shit about any of that. Neither did my heart. There was only one question left on my mind. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m sure.”

That was all I needed to hear. I growled, “Take off your clothes.”

Her breaths made her breasts heave as she pulled the sweater over her head. They were perfect—a soft handful. She hadn’t bothered to wear a bra. As she bent to peel her leggings off, I realized she hadn’t worn underwear, either. Had she planned to seduce me?

It worked.

My heart stopped when she looked up at me under her lashes. “Now you.”

I’d never undressed so fast in my life. I threw my clothes behind me without a care as to where they landed, and once I was naked, Gemma kissed me again. It felt so good to be pressed up against her. She offered that warmth I’d been missing.

I’d been missing it my whole life.

I breathed her in as we kissed, and when she palmed my cock, it was my turn to moan. She kissed down my pecs, fingers toying with my scant chest hair all the while until she kneeled before me. When she took me in her mouth, I hissed. She had done this once before and I liked it—of course I liked blow jobs—but I had other plans.

I laced my fingers into her hair and gently pulled her off of me. Her eyes had gone sex drunk. Half-lidded and penetrating. I nearly let her finish me off right then, but this wasn’t what I wanted. “Your mouth is amazing, but I need you.”

“How?”

I pulled her to her feet, then picked her up and set her on the countertop. She let out the sexiest little whoop when I did that, and as I spread her thighs, her full lips parted in a gasp. It was nothing compared to the sounds she made when I reached her wetness.

I peered into her eyes, watching her every tic, her every breathless word. This woman was perfect, from her hair to her toes. That messy bun on top of her head had fallen apart, and now, her hair was a red waterfall over her breasts, barely concealing her hard nipples. Her lips had pinked from our kisses, and ragged gasps rained from them. I fingered her, delighting in the feel of her clamping down on me. As my thumb grazed her clit, she squeezed tighter.

“Don’t stop!”

I leaned on the cabinet next to her head. “Never.” I kept at her until she finally cried out, her body spasming on my fingers again and again. She wrapped her hands around the back of my neck to kiss me as she came. It was heady, this thing between us. Somehow, getting her off was almost more satisfying than my own orgasm.

Almost.

I slipped her down from the countertop, then slung her across my arms to carry her the way a man carries his bride?—

I couldn’t let myself think about that sort of thing right now. This wasn’t that. I didn’t know what we were anymore, but that kind of thought would only get me in more trouble.

I refocused and took her to her bed, laying her down as gently as I could manage. But in the moment, all I wanted to do was slam myself to the hilt inside of her. To bury myself and my troubles away in the pleasure of her body.

She wanted it too, pulling me down on top of her, clinging to me. She wrapped her legs around my waist, so I took her, going deep at the start. There was no better feeling in the world than to sink into the woman I loved. We cried out together, with Gem scratching down my back as she arched her own. I clamped onto her throat, the need to bite overwhelming me.

I needed every bit of contact I could get.

I took her wrists and pinned her to the bed as I pounded her into the mattress. Close was not close enough. I needed this connection with her the way I needed oxygen. We kissed feverishly, ravenously. When she worked herself up to meet my thrusts, I could have died a happy man.

Her eyes widened in shock right before I felt her come on me. It was almost enough to make me join her, but instead, I rolled us over so she was on top. She still shuddered in the aftershocks as I grabbed her ass—that amazing ass—and pulled her back and forth on my cock. I jutted myself up as I pulled her down, and I had to fight the urge to come. She looked so damn hot like this. All orgasm weak and sexy drunk, her tits bouncing. The woman was a fantasy come to life.

She had a hard time speaking, but managed to say, “Gonna make me…again.”

“Good girl,” I grunted as I kept going.

This time, her head flung back as she gasped through the next one, and as she gasped, she came forward, nearly knocking into my head as she collapsed against my chest. I lifted my hips from the bed to fuck her from underneath at my speed. My balls tightened, and every sensation set me on edge.

“Can’t take much more?—”

“Yes, you can,” I growled.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered.

I lost all control when I came, slamming deep and rough inside of her, losing myself in her. The world burst with color and light as I came, and I wrapped her in my arms to keep her there with me.

But the ecstatic frenzy wore away with unusual speed.

I did what I could to maintain that peaceful feeling. Afterward, we lay tangled together on the bed, the air between us ripe with unspoken words. I traced lazy patterns on her arm, my mind racing with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t. This wasn’t just passion. It wasn’t just the heat of the moment.

It was about us. It wasn’t some physical thing. There were vitally important things to talk about, but I wasn’t sure how to start. Or if she wanted me to. She and Winnie were the life I hadn’t even realized I wanted until it was staring me in the face.

But she kept my daughter from me for five years. That was a wound I didn’t know how to heal. The thought of leaving her now made my chest ache, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t offer a solution to our situation, and staying would only make that worse. “I should go.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable. “Okay.”

I stood, grabbing my clothes from where they had fallen on the floor. She followed me to the door, her hand brushing mine as I reached for the knob.

“Casey,” she said, her voice stopping me in my tracks.

I turned, my heart pounding.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked, frowning.

“For tonight,” she said, her eyes shining.

I didn’t know how to respond, so I just nodded and stepped outside, the cool night air hitting me like a wake-up call. The drive home was quiet, but my mind was anything but.