Filed to story: Luci Forrester and Easton Reed: Hockey Romance Story
“Sweetness… come back to me, Luci,” his voice is patient, a soothing balm against the chaos in my mind.
“I’m sorry,” I respond hastily, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I probably drive you mad with my distractions.”
“No, Luci, not at all. I can’t promise I’ll never feel frustrated, but anger is off the table. I understand how hard this is for you, and if you need me to repeat myself or pull you back from that place, I will.” His calm demeanor reassures me, wrapping around my heart like a warm blanket.
“How do you know these things?” I exhale softly, touched by his concern. Sydney had mentioned how he bombarded her with questions about my focus and struggles.
“Your reactions tell me everything. The way you get embarrassed, the way you scold yourself-it all shows just how deeply it affects you. No one should ever belittle you for something you’re working so hard on, especially when it’s not your fault.” His words resonate within me, a gentle reminder of my worth.
“Were you jealous when you met Banning that night? Is that why you kissed me?” I blurt out, the question escaping before I can catch it. He groans, a mix of frustration and amusement.
“Ah, so that wandering mind of yours has pieced it together. Yes. Now, can we stop trying to distract me? What about that hug?”
“Seriously? I can’t hug my big brother?” I feign innocence, but his lips twitch, revealing the playful game we’re caught in.
“Fine. It was in response to your hat writing,” he admits, and a rare, boyish grin spreads across his face, illuminating his features in a way that completely captivates me.
“You didn’t like my poem, sassy ass?” he teases, his eyes sparkling.
“You said you don’t do poetry, Mr. Reed,” I reply, unable to hide my smile.
“I said I don’t do flowery, romantic poetry. Smartass rhyming is right up my alley,” he counters, his tone light.
“Are you genuinely upset?” I ask, unsure of where I stand.
“No, it’s all a game, my innocent Luci,” he assures me, his honesty cutting through the air.
“I’m not innocent, Easton. I just lack experience in this kind of game. You seem so dominant and confident, and my past relationships never felt like this,” I confess, my heart racing under his gaze.
His eyes search mine, a deep understanding reflected back. “I like to take control, and I usually know exactly what I want. Now, let’s return to your punishment,” he says, his gaze dropping to my neck. “Hmm, I know…”
Before I can react, his wicked mouth descends, sucking on a sensitive spot near my shoulder. His lips and tongue work their magic, igniting sensations that cause me to squirm under his touch. He pulls back, a satisfied grin plastered across his face before he crashes his lips against mine, his tongue exploring my mouth with a fervor that leaves me breathless.
“That is perfect,” he declares, pride lacing his voice as he surveys his handiwork.
“You’re particularly talkative and playful today,” I remark, curiosity piqued.
“It’s a good day. We won our game. My son got to watch and cheer me on, and my girl was wearing my hoodie. You’re right here in my bed, and I just left my mark on you. Don’t worry, I’ll revert to my usual grumpy self in a day or two,” he says with a wry smile.
“I like him too,” I reply, watching as his entire demeanor softens for a moment.
“As much as I want to keep you here, Dad is waiting for us to goof off in the game room,” he says, his tone shifting.
“You should have told me,” I respond, a hint of disappointment creeping in.
“We had unfinished business. Tomorrow, we’ll come to pick you up at five for the tree lighting,” he informs me.
“Easton, are you sure? I don’t want to intrude on Cole’s time with you,” I say, concern lacing my voice.
“He practically bounced off the ceiling when I told him I’d bring you. He loves you, sweetness,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection.
“I love him too. Fine, I’ll go. But I’m buying the cookies,” I declare, a playful challenge in my tone.
“Deal.” He leans in for one last kiss, a promise lingering in the air. “Text me when you get home. As in, when you’re inside and the door is locked.”
“I will. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
On Saturday, I immerse myself in creating Cole’s Christmas program costume, along with two additional outfits Mrs. Hutchins requested. Barrett’s Grinch costume is all finished, a labor of love that fills me with pride.
An hour before we’re scheduled to leave, Sydney sends me a text. “Taking Barrett to the tree lighting. Banning is working now. Want to meet at the gates?”
“Yes! Cole will be thrilled,” I reply, excitement bubbling within me.
I call Easton, my tone teasing. “If you’re canceling on us, I’m hanging up and picking you up anyway. You promised Cole cookies, and betrayal like that won’t go unnoticed.”
He laughs. “Not canceling. Sydney is taking Barrett now and wants to meet at the gates.”
“Cole will be so happy. Jackson might come too. I’ll be there soon,” he assures me.
Dressed warmly against the biting wind, I watch from my window as they pull into the driveway. As I step outside, Easton exits his truck, grabbing my arm gently. “Now, how am I supposed to count this as a family date night if you won’t let me knock on your door, compliment you on how pretty you look, and steal a kiss?”
“Family date night?” I ask, a smile creeping onto my face as he walks me toward the door.