OFF LIMITS

CHAPTER EIGHT - Chaotic

MACK

I've been sleeping like crap.

The lack of sleep has me fighting this crippling tiredness every single day, and it is starting to get to me. I need to get my shit together before my first game tomorrow.

I'm glad I'll have a home game before we go on the road for a few back-to-back away games. It'll help me to get acclimatized on home ice with my team before going on the road.

But if I want my first game–and all our upcoming games– to go well, I need to start sleeping well, which hasn't happened since last season.

Every time I try to go to sleep, my mind races to everything that has happened. It goes back to my own teammates checking me against the boards or them not throwing the puck my way. I can't stop thinking about how much I hated playing in New York and how much I want to love playing here in Vancouver.

The only thing that did the trick last night and sent me to sleep was thinking about Kat.

Which is wrong and can't happen again.

No more Kat. Ever.

Not even if what I'm thinking about isn't the naughty parts of our night together, but the rest. Especially that moment before we finally fell asleep when I traced her freckles with my finger and her beautifully deep brown eyes started to flutter shut.

She looked so fucking pretty trying to fight her sleepiness so we could keep talking, but I could tell she was tired after everything we did. Those gentle strokes on her nose did the trick, sending her to sleep, and me right next to her.

Yeah, I can't imagine that anymore. I need it to be tossed to the 'forgotten memories' part of my brain.

That will be hard, considering I haven't been able to stop looking at her all week.

I tried my best to ignore her. I even took the long way to the parking lot or back to the changing rooms to avoid her, but yesterday, she ambushed me at my car, and the whole interaction was reassurance that I can't be close to her without acting like an idiot.

She melts my brain, and all I want to do when I'm near her is kiss the fuck out of those pretty plush lips and run my hands all over that round ass she showcases every single day in the tightest little leggings she can find.

I've gone as far as convincing myself she's wearing those to torture me. If she is, then it's working because I have to scold my dick into not getting hard every time I see her walking around the training facility in them.

I can contain myself when I'm in hockey mode, or at least I thought I could before she decided to sit and watch our drills today. I obviously couldn't keep my eyes off her and check if she was actually watching me play like she mentioned yesterday. And fuck, I wish she was lying to me, but she wasn't. Every single time my eyes wandered to where she was sitting, those beautiful brown eyes were on me.

I should be reassuring Coach Hartley that he made the right decision, putting me on the first line. Instead, I was slacking because of my tiredness and unfocused due to Kat's presence. This was our last practice before tomorrow's morning skate prior to the game against Edmonton, and my performance could have been better. That means I had Hartley's angry scowl on me all practice.

After we were done with the drills, I stayed a little longer to talk to our offensive coach, and then I hit the showers, where I tortured myself a little with the water as cold as it could get so I could wash all the dirty thoughts about Kat away.