Pucking Around: Chapter 63

“Kiss me,” I say again, my body humming with need.

The flash of want in Rachel’s eyes is quickly replaced with surprise as they grow wider, dark pools I want to sink inside. “What?”

I caught her off guard. I love that she wasn’t expecting this. “You asked me what I want,” I explain. “I want you to kiss me like you’ll die if you don’t. Kiss me, and I’ll go back in there. Kiss me, and I’ll do the scans.”

She huffs like she’s indignant, but I see the fire burning inside her. “You’re extorting your doctor for sexual favors, Mars? Not a great look.”

“I’m past caring.”

“We’re in the street,” she reasons, gesturing around.

“I don’t care.”

“Well…a kiss to save my life wouldn’t be very PG,” she adds, one dark brow raised as she smiles.

“Show me.”

My body is already reacting to hers, and she hasn’t even touched me yet. We both know she will. We’ve been dying for a second kiss. She was surprised the first time. She didn’t ask for it. She was afraid to reciprocate, afraid of getting caught. Now I’m placing the power in her hands. She’s going to kiss me, and she’ll see it coming. She’ll be the one to start it.

I know the moment she’s made her decision. I’m ready for her, dropping our bags at my feet. She drops her purse at the same time. Her hands go to my shoulders as she jumps. I catch her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as her arms do the same at my neck.

And then we’re kissing. Rachel presses in close, her lips parting as she hums her need into my mouth. Her lips are so soft, her tongue warm as she flicks and teases.

I have my left arm wrapped under her ass, supporting her weight, as my right arm bands around her shoulders. I’m not letting go. Fuck what I said on the plane. Nothing is finished between us. We’re only just getting started. This woman is mine.

Her grip relaxes around my neck, knowing I won’t let her fall. Then she’s bringing them around to frame my face, her fingers brushing over my beard. I groan as she bites my bottom lip, my cock growing harder by the second. We’re both panting, needing breath, even as we’re desperate to keep kissing. Her hands are in my hair, sweeping it back from my face.

Someone wolf whistles and we both go still. Rachel pulls away, her lips parted as she huffs, gazing into my eyes. Her dark eyes flecked with gold pierce through my walls. I want her like I haven’t wanted anything.

She pushes against my shoulders, and I loosen my hold on her, letting her slide down my body to the ground. We stand there, her hands on my chest, my hands at her hips, as the city moves around us.

“There,” she murmurs. “You got what you wanted, right?”

I nod, incapable of words.

“Good. Now grab those bags, and let’s go. There’s an X-ray machine waiting with your name on it.”

“You came back,” says Halla, glancing between me and Rachel.

“As you see,” I reply, grateful to have her quiet strength as she stands beside me.

We stopped by the hotel first, leaving our bags at the front desk. Then she made us run by a coffee shop. She said if she had to face Halla again without caffeine reinforcements, she might be spending the night in jail.

“Here’s how this will go,” she says, her eyes narrowed at him, travel cup of coffee firmly in hand. “You’ll perform a physical exam. And we want X-rays and an MRI. If we confirm it’s a labral tear, I want—”

“You expect me to administer a cortisone shot to ease pain in the joint,” he says, clearly annoyed. “I know, Price. This is my practice, remember?” He glances to me. “What do I get in return?”

She inches in front of me, shoulders squared at her former boss. “You get the warm and fuzzy feeling of knowing you weren’t a total fucking asshole to my injured patient,” she replies for me.

The corner of his mouth quirks like he’s impressed. I’m not surprised. She’s a lioness. And she’s mine. I don’t even bother fighting the urge to inch closer to her.

“And the dinner you promised?” he says, glancing between us.

She scoffs. “Oh my god, will you stop saying it like that? I never promised you a dinner with Ilmari. You were the one who suggested it. I just thought you were trying to be a nice fucking person. I didn’t know a seafood dinner would come with so many strings attached.”

“We will go to dinner,” I say, my fingers brushing down the small of her back. I really don’t want to have to pry her off him when she decides to scratch his eyes out.

She relaxes slightly, flexing her shoulders. She takes the smallest of steps back towards me, her shoulder brushing against my chest.

He glances between us, his smile spreading. “Fine. We are agreed.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon at the clinic. Halla performs a full physical exam, including stress tests and range of motion exercises. He has me walk and run on a treadmill before I show him my pre-game stretching routine. When I attempt a full split, the pain in my right hip is enough to have me groaning.

“Okay, that’s enough,” says Rachel, stepping in. “We don’t want to make any tears worse.”

“Agreed,” Halla mutters. “I’ve ordered the additional tests.”

Hours later, I’ve survived a series of X-rays and a kind of MRI that involved inserting dye into my hip joint. It’s nearly five o’clock by the time Halla returns. “His scans are ready,” he says, his eyes on Rachel. “Would you like to consult with me, Doctor Price?”

She bolts out of her chair, setting her bag of pretzels and diet soda aside. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“I want to see them too,” I say, rising to my feet.

“You’re not a doctor, son,” he says in Finnish.

“It’s my body,” I reply. “And I’m not your son.”

“English,” she interjects, giving me a scowl.

“Fine. Come with me, both of you,” he says in English.

He leads us down the hall to an imaging room and shows Rachel scans of my hip. They talk quietly, pointing to various parts of the black and white images. They don’t seem concerned. Rachel just nods as he talks, her dark brows narrowed in concentration.

“Here’s what you need to see,” he says gesturing to a new image on the screen.

“There it is,” she murmurs, sighing with relief as she leans in, her finger tracing over the ball joint of my hip. “Mars, come here.” She takes my hand to pull me closer. “Look here. See this dark spot? That’s the tear in your labrum.”

I narrow my eyes, noticing a little black dot in a strip of white that coats the ball of my hip joint. I’ve been in this sport long enough to know the dangers of a labral tear. It’s a common injury for goalies, but it’s a first for me.

“It’s small,” Halla adds. “I don’t think it needs surgery to repair it. Not yet, at least.”

“I agree,” she murmurs. “Will you do the cortisone injection?”

“Yes, that should give him some relief.” He turns to me. “Your hip is already on its own way to recovery. And I don’t like doing procedures when I don’t have to. You need to moderate your physical activity while you heal. Do nothing to risk that hip. Compensate on the ice as much as possible. I trust Price to supervise.”

She nods, the look of determination on her face telling me there’ll be no escaping her now.

“You should sit out at least a week of practice and games if you can,” he adds. “If the corticosteroid gives you relief, and your pain feels managed, you can play. If it gets worse, get more scans. We may need to go in arthroscopically and do the repair.”

“How long would that take me off the ice?” I say, my gaze still fixed on that tiny black dot on my scan.

“That really depends on the extent of the injury, but a safe window would be four months. Maybe six,” he adds. “I’ll go prepare the cortisone shot.”

He leaves and I’m left alone with Rachel. She glances up at me, her face relaxed. She’s still holding my hand. “Now we know,” she murmurs, raising a hand to push my hair back behind my ear. “Doesn’t it feel so much better to know for certain? Now we can make a plan. We can fix this, Mars.”

I fight the urge to lean into her hand. Yes, now I know. But I’m not thinking about the injury right now. My mind is spinning over the details of an entirely different kind of plan.