Chapter 11
Cass
The Zamboni bay wasn’t exactly the ideal study nook, but it was quiet, secluded, and came with the added bonus of no one bothering me. Unless I counted the persistent drip of melting ice echoing from the rafters.
I was supposed to be checking the backup battery, but I’d already popped the casing open, noted the corrosion, and imagined the response I’d get to my request for a new one. That’s when I decided to push the admin aside and cram for my hydraulics exam instead.
Sitting cross-legged on an upturned crate with my textbook spread across my lap, I read and re-read the same paragraph for the fifth time. None of it was sticking. I exhaled sharply through my nose.
I needed to focus. I needed to absorb displacement values, directional control, actuators—
“You look like you want to throw up.”
My head whipped up to find Mason in the open doorway, bathed in pale overhead light, gym bag slung over his good shoulder. He wasn’t kitted up yet, but the base layer clung to his chest in a way that made focusing even harder.
“Authorized personnel only.”
He laughed, and sauntered in anyway, kicking a crate next to mine before sitting down. “Last I checked, I was authorized to hang out with you. As just friends.”
Yeah, right. Because ‘just friends’ periodically stuck their tongues down each other’s throats and dry-humped each other.
“I’m studying.”
He didn’t look like he cared. “I’m acting on my doctor’s strict order not to over-train. So, instead of doing drills before practice, I’m resting.”
I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to kick him out or jump him. I decided to do neither, and let things play out.
“You’re sweet, Mason, but you need to be sweet and rest somewhere else,” I said. “I mean it, this exam’s giving me sleepless nights.”
“It seems we’ve reached a stalemate.”
“No, there’s no stalemate,” I said, slamming my textbook closed. “You need to leave.”
“As the one who banned me from the ice, the onus falls on you to keep me company.” The gym bag dropped from his shoulder and he kicked out his feet as though he were reclining on a lawn chair. Obviously not about to go anywhere.
“You’re the neediest hockey player I’ve ever met.”
“Maybe,” he replied. “Or maybe I just think you’re hot when you get annoyed.”
That earned him a side-eye, which he pretended not to see.
“I’m mildly panicked over here,” I admitted then. “Hydraulics isn’t just pressure and flow rate. There’s system mapping, fluid dynamics, load sensi—”
“Agh, make it stop,” he winced. “I think you just broke what was left of my brain.”
“How do you think I feel?” I slumped over with my head in my hands. The exam was less than a day away, and my head was like a sieve.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do…” He got up so suddenly, I nearly fell off my crate.
For someone still bouncing back from a bad injury, he was freakishly agile.
“When I was in high school, studying went better when I had a partner to quiz me. So we’ll do that.
I’ll quiz you on hydraulicky flowy things. ”
I snorted. “We’re off to a great start.”
“We are,” he said, unbothered by my incredulity. “You just can’t see it yet. But you will. Just let me get some snacks. No study session is complete without snacks.” He hurried to leave, then paused in the doorway. “A real study session also comes with breaks for making out. You should know that.”
“Mason.”
“Don’t move. I’ll be back.”
My heart did that stupid fluttering thing again, and it had me questioning myself for the umpteenth time. The more I entertained this… crush, the more it started to feel like there was something real here.
I had no business catching feelings this hard. But when Mason was around, everything else quieted down. The exam stress, the pressure of avoiding my dad, the fear of what the next bad decision would lead to.
When I was with Mason, I could breathe. Surely that meant it wasn’t a huge mistake that I’d regret for the rest of my life?
“I couldn’t decide, so I got everything.” He walked in a few minutes later, arms loaded with soda, sour candy ropes, chocolate-covered pretzels, and too many packets of M&Ms.
I was kidding myself to think there was any kind of fight to be had with this one.
“Fine,” I said, picking up a candy rope. “But this is only going to work if we help each other. You’ll quiz me on my work, and I’ll quiz you on hockey.”
“Deal.” He grinned, snatching the textbook and flipping to my notes. “First question— What’s a tandem center valve?”
I rattled off the answer, and the games were underway.
The rhythm came quickly. He’d ask me something he had no clue about and I’d shoot him a question about NHL trivia, penalty kill strategies, you name it.
We laughed, bickered, and leaned in close over diagrams and doodles as though they were what we actually paid attention to.
Not the charge that swelled up whenever our faces drew nearer, or how his eyes would drop to my mouth every time I spoke.
But more than the insane attraction, was my surprise at how quickly I was getting the work I’d been poring over for weeks. His method was helping, and as the session drew on, I became more and more relaxed.
“Time for a break,” Mason said, discarding my textbook onto the floor with a deliberate thud.
“We’re not making out.” I dropped my eyes when I said it. Didn’t have the balls to look into those eyes.
That’s why I didn’t see him move toward me, only realized he was right there when he took my hand and pulled me to my feet. I bumped into him with the force of it, a tiny gasp slipping out on contact.
“A wise woman once told me that breaks were as important as hard work,” he murmured, gazing deep into my eyes.
My restraint unraveled in a heartbeat.
His lips brushed mine once, soft and testing, like he was giving me one last chance to pull away. I leaned in, and the kiss deepened instantly. No teasing, or waiting. We were giving in to a raw, aching need that had been building for the longest time.
Ravenous hands explored over and under the layers of clothing between us, and each time skin touched skin it sent a spark shooting straight between my legs.
And then he was lifting me, one arm under my thighs like I weighed nothing.
He clambered onto the Zamboni with me in his arms, my hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.
Once he had me settled, our mouths met again. Hot and urgent.
He tasted like sugar, the sour candy still on his tongue. There was something else too, a taste that was just… Mason. I tilted my head, opening up to him even more, and the kiss turned dizzying.
His thumb swept along the underside of my jaw, coaxing my mouth wider, pulling another low, involuntary moan from deep inside me.
His body slotted between my knees, the heat of him seeping through the fabric of my sweat pants.
It wasn’t much of a barrier to keep me unaware of his growing hard-on, and I rolled my hips against him.
He groaned, holding my face in both his hands. “You’ll tell me if this is too much.”
“It’s not. Not enough.”
That was all he needed.
He kissed his way down my neck, finding the spot just under my ear that made my whole body shudder. I clutched his shirt with tight fists, my knuckles brushing the skin of his lower back. Every shift of his weight made the Zamboni creak beneath us, but we didn’t stop.
He was everywhere, hands framing my face, fingers grazing along my ribs, hips bucking into me when the force of our desire became too much. The kiss turned messier, breathless.
I arched my back, grinding my hips harder against the bulge of his cock, already imagining what it would feel like when he was finally inside me. I wanted to feel all of him, wanted to erase the line between logic and need, and drown in what he made me feel.
Mason pulled back just far enough to look at me, his eyes shot dark and wild with want.
“Cass…” His voice was strained over it, but still my name sounded like a sacred prayer on his lips.
My mouth claimed his before he could finish what he was saying, hands curling in his hair with a tug that made him moan into my mouth. The aching in my pussy became more intense. Needy.
He dragged his teeth along my bottom lip, then kissed the sting away until I was quivering from it. My thighs clenched around his hips as he trailed his tongue along the sensitive dip of my collarbone.
I was gone. Completely gone.
Whatever willpower I had left died somewhere between his mouth and that molten look in his eyes. My resolve? Scattered over the Zamboni like candy wrappers and forgotten textbooks.
I didn’t want to think about exams or curfews or what would happen if my dad found out. I just wanted this. Him.
Mason.
“I still have half an hour before practice.” His breath was shallow and ragged against my mouth.
I lapped it up, and sucked his lower lip before replying, “Take off your pants.”
He locked eyes with me, hands digging into my hips and pushing down. Hard. I could feel the way his rock-hard cock strained in his pants, pressing at my core with a desperate heat.
“You sure that’s what you want?” Without dropping his gaze, he started guiding my hips to grind against him. Back and forth, over and over again.
“Twenty-eight minutes and counting, Calder.”
His hands shot to the waistband of his pants, but just as he was about to undo them, the theme music to The White Lotus TV show rang out around us.
Our heated moment dissolved into hasty fumbling from me, and mild confusion from him.
“What the f—?”
“Shit, my phone.” I’d forgotten to put it on silent, and it was currently loud enough to attract all sorts of attention.
I sprung from the Zamboni and rummaged through the graveyard of candy wrappers on the floor. “Yes!”
Mason climbed down, moving with some discomfort (for obvious reasons), all with a bemused grin on his face. “Not very classic rock of you.”
I held up a finger to mute him, and panted into my phone, “Hi, Dad.”
Mason’s face fell instantly. If I’d bothered to look down, I would’ve noticed something else deflating rather quickly too.
“Yeah, I’m at the arena. Why?”
I could feel his eyes on me as I paced the bay, my Converse crunching through the mess we’d made. Well, the tangible one, anyway.
“Sure,” I said. “What, um, what do you want to talk about?”
Mason tapped my shoulder, but I couldn’t look at him. He tapped again, and I swatted his hand away.
“Okay, I’ll just finish up w—” I pursed my lips, sure that Mason could hear my dad’s voice even though he wasn’t on speaker. “Now. Got it. I’ll be right down.”
“Care to share?” Mason asked, his tone light and airy, as though we weren’t on the edge of disaster.
“No.” I shoved my phone into my pocket and started to leave. “You can leave this stuff. I’ll clean it when I get back.”
“Cass?”
But I didn’t turn back, or slow down.