Page 190 of The Pucking Wrong Man

“Hmmm,” I murmured as his lips tortured my skin. “I’m desperate for that, too. I might even have a surprise for you.”

He inhaled sharply at that little reveal. “I like the sound of that,” he growled. “And when do I get my prize?”

“If you’re good, Daddy, you can get it right now.”

He moaned and bit down on my shoulder. “I can be very good, baby girl.”

The doors slid open and I stepped out into our entry. “I’m just going to make myself a bit more comfortable first,” I told him casually, pulling away and beginning to strip off my shirt...and then my leggings, so that it was easy to see the fact that his jersey number was now tattooed on the base of my spine.

“Fuck,” he rasped, and I began to count down silently in my head. The girls and I had gotten the tattoos as a surprise yesterday before the game. He’d gotten two tattoos for me...it only seemed fitting that I get one for him. Thanks to our drunken escapades last night, I’d been able to hide it from him until now.

One, two...I’d just gotten to three when he pounced.

And he must have really liked my surprise...because we didn’t stop making love all night.

SECOND EPILOGUE

CAMDEN

“Now that girl knows how to make an entrance,” Logan purred, staring at a dark-haired woman walking toward a seat next to the visitor’s bench.

“I’m sure you want to become very familiar with her entrances,” mused Ari, his attention not even on the woman in question.

I snorted. “That was a good one.”

Ari huffed, his head snapping to look at me, his gaze kind of crazy-looking. “Why do you sound surprised at that, Hero? If anyone is funny in this group, it’s me.” He elbowed Lincoln who was making moon-eyes at Monroe and Lincoln growled.

Literally growled.

That guy was kind of scary.

“Golden Boy, tell them how funny I am.”

“It seems like you’re doing a good job of that yourself,” Lincoln mused, rubbing at where Ari had hit him.

“I think I’m in love,” Logan groaned, almost sounding serious as he stared at the woman lustfully.

I glanced around to see if Anastasia had gotten here yet, grinning when I saw her coming down the steps with Monroe, Blake, and Olivia.

“Tell me I’m not seeing things,” Logan elbowed me, and I snarled at him before reluctantly glancing over to where Logan was drooling. The girl was probably what most would consider “objectively attractive,” but she might as well have been paint drying on the wall for how interested I was in her.

“Fuck,” Logan snarled, sounding slightly...unhinged.

That caught Lincoln’s attention, and then we were all staring at the rookie as he glared at where one of the Tampa Bay players had leaned over the glass and was smiling down at the woman in question.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

With that dramatic display, he skated off, shooting at the net angrily. Walker hit the goal post, annoyed with the rookie. But Logan didn’t seem to notice.

First period ended, and we were down by one, and playing like complete shit.

“Fucking hell,” Logan muttered, eyeing that same Tampa defender he’d gotten pissed about before the game. Logan’s mood had continued throughout the period. He hadn’t called me Grandpappy once.

I would have said that it was the stress of being in Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals, but...it was obviously more than that.

“Hey, Rookie, is there a reason you keep checking Number 45? And was that fight really necessary?” Lincoln spit as we walked back to the locker room for the break. “I’d rather not be one man down the entire fucking game.”

Logan gritted his teeth, looking like he was debating whether he wanted to fight Lincoln right now.

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