Chapter 32 Drew
Drew
"Where am I going?" Brooke whispers from over her shoulder.
With my hand still on her lower back, I guide her further down the hallway. "Just keep walking," I grind out, casually grinning at the janitor emptying the trash can in the trainer's room.
She continues speed-walking, yelping when I pull on her shirt and drag her down the next hallway.
"God, this place is like a freaking maze.
" Brooke searches the walls for any clues as to where we might be headed.
I move in front of her when it hits a dead end and scan my thumb over the sensor.
"See, I thought this hallway led to the.
.." Her voice trails off as the door swings open to exactly where she expected it to. "Drew, why are we in the tunnel?"
Pulling her through the opening, I slam the door shut and press her back against the wall. "Because the ice is the only place my team won't be on an off day." I search her eyes for understanding, but before my point can register, I crash my lips to hers.
Brooke inhales sharply, then reaches for my waist, scrunching up the hem of my shirt at either hip.
"This is killing me," I say, reluctantly pulling back.
She pauses. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize my lips were so deadly."
I huff out a laugh. "Oh, they are." I bend forward, taking her bottom one between my teeth and biting gently. "But I mean this." I throw my arms out and look around. "Keeping you a secret."
"Not much longer," she pants, dragging her nails down my back.
I arch into her touch, pinning her hips to the wall behind her with my own. "Thank God. I can't even fucking look at you with someone else knowing they don't understand you're mine."
She brings her palms to my chest, blocking my movement to kiss her again. "Wait, are you talking about Brett?" She giggles, and I clench my teeth—all the response she needs. "Did you know he has a cat?"
"Yes," I say bluntly, fighting her resistance for another kiss.
"He's funny."
Kiss.
"I know."
Kiss.
"And a good friend."
I freeze. "That better be all he is."
She smiles, and my irrational hostility fades. "I mean to you."
I sigh, brushing my thumb across her cheek. "I know he is."
"See, you have more people in your corner than you think, Twelve."
"Yeah, well..." I take her hand in mine and pull her toward the boards, first double-checking that we're in the rink alone. "As long as I have you, that's all I really need." I snap my wrist, yanking her toward me and put my mouth on the exposed skin below her neck.
"Well, you have me," she says softly, her chest rising and falling quickly. "But there's only a few more days until we get this for real, and I don't know if we should be risking that."
"What do you mean?"
She scans the arena. "I mean I know we're no strangers to public places, but this is so… open. And I swear there's like a million doors to get here from the facilities."
I smirk. "There's only two, Mystery Girl."
She looks at me like she's unconvinced. "Feels like more."
Tugging her to me, I slide my hand into her hair and drop my forehead to hers.
Brooke lets her eyes fall closed, only popping them back open when I dip my hand into the waistband of her jeans.
"You tell me what you need for this to happen, and I'll do it," I say.
I groan as I slip a finger inside her, and her walls clench around it. "But fuck, I have to have you, Brooke."
It's true. I've needed her since she ran her fingers through my hair at the barbershop.
Then, again, at the cemetery when she nearly fucking broke me talking to my mom and being so vulnerable.
Seeing her with Brett was the final straw.
I know he's not a threat—Brooke and I know where we stand and somehow so does Burns.
But having to just sit back and watch her be so casual with someone else—how I want to be with her, not just behind closed doors—was all I could take before instinct took over.
"Can we just go somewhere—anywhere—less obvious in case someone comes walking through the tunnel?"
I search the rink, almost as desperate to find somewhere fitting as I am for her. I glance across the ice, and it clicks. Getting there may be riskier than the bench, but once we make it, the chances of being caught will be so much lower.
"Do you trust me?"
I don't mean for the words to come out so weighted, but Brooke's expression tells me she's searching for an answer to the general question, even outside of this moment. "I'm leaning in, remember?"
That's all she answers with, but in Brooke, that's good enough for me.
My smile says it all as I take her hand again and open the boards to the bench. She follows me blindly until I step one foot onto the freshly cut ice.
"What the hell are you doing?" she hisses, digging her heels in. "Drew, I'm up for a lot, but banging on freaking ice might be where I draw the line."
"The only way to get to the box is by crossing it," I state matter-of-factly. "Perfect for seclusion, but… we gotta get there first."
Her lips part, her eyes wide, the perfect expression of excitement—in more ways than one—washing over her. She nods, and I set my second foot onto the slippery surface. "Just go slow."
Brooke braces herself on the boards and places her feet one at a time onto the ice. We shuffle together, her hand entangled in mine like the two were made to fit inside of each other. I smile over at her, and she does the same, both of us letting a quiet laugh slip between us.
It's a silly moment—charged and arousing—but completely ridiculous.
The funniest part though, is that this moment is the first I've had on the ice that's brought me joy in too damn long.
Sure, winning is fun, and I love my team and hockey as a whole.
But for me, individually, here with her is the happiest I've been coasting across ice for years.
When Brooke's toes hit the box, I reach past her, lifting up on the lever.
The door unlatches, and she shuffles backward into me, allowing it to open.
I still, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her flush against me.
She whimpers when her ass hits my cock that's been ready for her since this morning and drops her head back onto my shoulder.
I slip my hand underneath the hem of her shirt, her covered skin warm against my chilled palm.
Brooke's nipples are already peaked from the temperature, tempting me to play with them, when I slide underneath her bra.
I do, rolling one between my fingers, and Brooke grinds into me, her back arching away from my chest. I repeat the motion on the other side, bending down to nip up her throat, but when she moans the sweetest of sounds, I can't wait any longer.
"Get in," I demand.
Brooke immediately steps into the penalty box, turning around to face me as I grab the door behind us. "Still very exposed," she says weakly.
I laugh and pull it shut, the sound from the latch echoing around us. "Did you hear that?"
"Hard to miss."
"Exactly." I step to her until the back of her legs hit the bench. "There's no noise in here. Well… besides yours." I kiss her neck again, and she hums like I knew she would. I lick my lips and smile. "If someone comes in, we'll hear it and can hide behind the boards."
"You've thought of everything, haven't you?"
"I told you, you can trust me."
Brooke holds my gaze and reaches for my joggers. "I know I can."
A fire lights inside of me hearing those words—and knowing I can finally have her.
"Come here." I snatch her wrist from my waist and kiss her hard once before moving my hands to the elastic around her hips and pulling her leggings and underwear both down at once.
"Sit," I bark, and Brooke obeys, a smile on her face I wish I could frame.
I kneel between her thighs, lifting one over my shoulder as she places her palms on the bench and settles her weight backward. "I guess this is why they call it the sin bin," she snickers, letting her neck loll back.
"No one calls it that," I correct her, peering up.
She drags her head back up to face me. "Uh… yes they do."
"No." I dip down and kiss the inside of her thigh. "They don't."
"Mmm… I've done my research, Drew. People absolutely call it that."
Leaning forward, I drag my tongue up her middle, and she hums as she bites her bottom lip.
"The media maybe," I concede, nipping at her clit.
Brooke shifts her hips up toward my mouth, and I laugh at the contrast of her actions with her argument.
"But you call it whatever you want, Mystery Girl.
Just let me eat this fucking pussy like I've wanted to all day. "
Brooke gasps as I dive into her. "Holy shit," she cries, her words bouncing around us and egging me on.
I flick my tongue, guiding a finger inside and hooking it at just the right angle. Brooke exhales heavily and slides her hand into my hair. "Oh my God, I forgot," she says, attempting to grab a hold like she's used to. "It's gone."
"Do you miss it?" I ask, adding another finger.
Brooke moans, her lids closed, and digs her nails into my fade. "No, it's just different." She opens her eyes, and I get lost in them. "Still perfect." She shifts her weight, switching hands and letting her head fall back again. "I can totally work with this."
I shake my head and grin as I vanish back into her, devouring her like she deserves. Brooke knows exactly what to say to put me at ease, but not because she's telling me what I want to hear. She just understands me. It's part of why I like her so much.
And I really fucking like her.