Page 59 of Offside Angel

I clench around him and Zane stutters, groaning into my skin and kissing my chest. “I want you, Mira.”

“I want you, too.” I squeeze his fingers and he brings our hands to his chest, holding them between our bodies. I kiss his knuckles and promise him the most I can right now. “I’ll always want you.”

22

ZANE

The score is tied.

The Firebirds have only had seven shots on goal, but four of them have gone in. It’s been all I can do to keep us level. But it won’t matter if Cole doesn’t get his ass in gear.

“What the fuck is going on?” I skid to a stop in front of the goal.

“Talk to the D,” Cole spits, flinging an arm towards Davis and whichever of the rookies is subbing in for Nathan on the first line. I think it’s Grant, but I don’t turn around to check. “They’re letting everything through.”

“They’re not the reason you’re letting two-thirds of the shots in,” I bark. “I’m about to ask Lars to take over.”

Cole’s eyes narrow. “I can handle my shit just fine, Whitaker. Worry about your position; I’ll worry about mine.”

“Subs are called by Coach,” someone behind me says. “Not you.”

I turn around and it is Grant. He’s watching me carefully.

He’s one of Carson’s goons, and I know that by the time we hit the showers, there will be whispers that I’m power-hungry.

“You’re right. Because if it was up to me, you’d be parked on the fucking bench!” I can practically feel the cameras around the rink zooming in. The commentators are probably living for this drama. “Cole wouldn’t have shots to fend off if you were doing your goddamn job.”

Grant starts to mutter something under his breath, but I’m not in the mood to brawl with my own teammate. I skate past him and get into position.

“You good?” Jace asks.

I should ask him the same thing. Gallagher is home sick and Rachelle called to say she was coming down with the same thing as we were boarding our flight. I know he’s been distracted, and it shows. He should be the one kicking Cole’s ass into gear, but instead, he left it up to me.

I shrug him off, grinding my molars together to work out some of the frustration simmering under my skin.

It’s wild to think I came into this game feeling great. Even the promise of a postgame red eye flight back to Phoenix couldn’t dampen my spirits.

If anything, knowing I’d be back home before the sun came up tomorrow made me feel even better.

Mira is committed to our family.

I left Phoenix knowing that she’ll still be there when I get back. I also left with a quickie in the shower that Mira promised was just a sample of what I’d get when I came home to her.

The fact that I have the image of her full lips wrapped around my cock playing on a loop in my thoughts, and yet I’m still the only person on this ice with my head in the game, is insane.

The puck drops and Jace slices it to Reeves. The defenders have been on my ass all night, so I’ve had to fight for even the slimmest of openings.

Reeves charges forward, and I cut towards the net to find a through line, but he loses the puck to the Firebirds’ right wing. I curse under my breath and follow the puck, only to see Grant steal it back.

Maybe the rookie isn’t useless after all.

As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I watch Grant turn to me, and I swear I hear ominous background music. Like I’m being circled by sharks in Jaws.

Reeves is wide open and off to Grant’s left. He’s the move. Grant should pass to him.

But the puck is already moving towards me.

I have to look down-ice to complete the pass, and I curse before I even touch the puck. Because I know this isn’t going to end well.

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