Page 89 of Knot My Only Fan

“Okay, where are we?” She stares at the ice and continues. “Still being a player up, New York has the advantage,” Harlow tells me because in truth I haven’t got a clue what is going on. “Oh, yes...”

Lucas skates past us, his stick controlling the puck as he darts through LA’s defense with lightning speed. He flicks the puck to Stanton and my heart is in my mouth.

Harlow yells, pointing to her boyfriend’s brother. “Pass to Carver!” she screams, and I wish she wasn’t sitting beside me.

But I notice Carver is setting himself up for the perfect scoring opportunity.

Stanton slides the puck back to Lucas. He spins on the ice, flicking the puck to Carver, who glances over his shoulder before he effortlessly flips the puck and finds the back of the net.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Harlow screams, jumping to her feet with everyone else.

Carver seems to hear her and he glances over and he gives her a rare grin as he punches the air. I’m not saying the Ice-Man Carver is a grouch. Maybe I am. There’s a reason for his nickname and not only because the only place he smiles is when he is on the ice.

The horn blasts, and the New York fans make as much noise with their cheering.

The game restarts, and the crowd erupts with a deafening roar.

With bated breath, Harlow sits on the edge of her seat, her fingers anxiously tapping against her thighs as she watches her boyfriend push himself hard with every shift.

The crowd’s energy changes as the clock ticks. They stand, holding their breath as our team glides in unison across the ice. Hoping for another scoring opportunity before the end of play.

The puck passes to Colton, who passes to Jenson, who quickly flicks it to Carver. The game is quick as he skates toward the net like there is nobody else on the ice.

Harlow’s hand lands on my forearm as she waits, a scream sitting on the edge of her lips. And when the puck whizzes past the goalie’s outstretched hand and crashes into the back of the net, her scream fills the air and the crowd bursts into cheers.

The buzzer sounds.

Harlow screams as Colton skates toward the glass. She rushes toward it, and they give each other air kisses as the player from the LA Raiders stands beside him, staring at Harlow once again.

Weird.

I make a mental note of his name and number to ask Stanton about him later.

Oliver Bradley.

“Well done, Sinclair,” he says, but his gaze is not on Colton.

Harlow shivers as his eyes roam over her body, not embarrassed at all. She squirms when his stare lands on her cold, pierced nipple.

“Harlow,” I hiss under my breath. “Cover up your tits.”

He smirks as another player from the LA Raiders congratulates Colton. His nose twitches, but my omega isn’t reacting.

I ignore it as I try to find Stanton. He’s with the other players skating around the ice, clapping their hands at the crowd. My gaze catches onto Lucas, who glares at the jersey I’m wearing with Stanton’s name and number emblazoned on the back, but his eyes are on his name on my belly.

He can fuck off!

With a quick turn, I divert my gaze from him and lock eyes with Stanton, who is now effortlessly skating in my direction with a massive smile on his face.

“Well done,” I mouth to him.

The smile on his face widens as he gets closer and closer to the gate and I’m sure he’s going to talk to a teammate, his coach, or anyone else but me.

But when he places one hand on the railing and effortlessly jumps the barrier that separates the crowd from the ice, he won a little more of my heart.

My eyes widen when he stands in front of me. There’s no space between us when he cups my face in his enormous hands, leans down, and softly kisses my lips.

My breath catches not only because of the kiss, but when his tongue darts out of his mouth and licks his lips. “You taste gorgeous.”

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