Page 60 of Power Play

“The first time you won the Stanley Cup, you got wasted and ended up with photos of your noodle being shared all over the Internet”—Stuart ignores my hard glare—“the second time, you stayed home and probably bathed in it.”

“Is that right?” another reporter calls out from the other side of the conference room. “Did you bathe in the Cup, Mr. Harrison?”

No one cares about my nude photos anymore. It’s probably because I’m old. Or maybe it’s just because, while that time of my life affected me for years, it’s old dirt for everyone else.

“No,” I tell the woman who asked me a question, “I actually ordered pizza and watched Bravo TV.”

The room erupts into laughter.

Stuart doesn’t. He jostles another journalist-turned-vlogger out of the way, and goes on. “This is the third time you’re taking the Cup home, Mr. Harrison. What’re your plans for the evening?”

My gaze seeks out the one woman who never fails to capture my attention, who, after a year and a half, has my heart more now than the day we exchanged wedding vows. She’s standing with aBoston Globepress badge clipped to her chest, and a notebook clasped in one hand. Her blonde hair is a crazy mess about her head, just the way I like it, and the smile that pulls at her lips is the best thing I’ve seen all day.

I turn to Stuart, though my gaze never leaves Charlie’s gorgeous face.

“I plan to take my wife home, lay her out before the Cup, and make love with her until the sun rises tomorrow morning.”

The crowd gasps with delight.

I don’t bother to wait any longer. I hop off the stage, favoring my right knee that’s been hurting all season, and head straight for the woman who woke me up and set me free.

“You can’t do that.”

I don’t tell Charlie that I can do whatever I want. I show her with my hands and my mouth, pushing her full figure against the bed covers and settling between her legs. My hand lands on her belly, which grows larger by the day with our child.

Two years ago, I’d never thought that this would be my life.

My fingers trickle down to the hot place at the apex of her thighs. “I can do whatever I want,” I say, enjoying the way her back arches under my touch when I thumb her clit. “You told me so on our wedding night.”

Her laughter catches on a moan. “I’m pretty sure that I didn’t,” she says, thrusting her hips up against my hand. “I’m pretty sure that was Caleb.”

Probably so. Her friends have becomeourfriends, and Caleb was actually my best man at our wedding. But since I like the way I can make her laugh, even in bed, I continue our game. My thumb circles faster, eliciting pants from her lips, lips that I can’t wait to feel wrapped around my cock later tonight.

“Want to make me happy, honey?”

“Rightnow?” Her blue eyes peer up at me, frustrated.

“Right now.” I kiss her forehead. “I want to make love to you in front of the Cup.”

Her legs hike up on the bed, knees bending sharply when I slide a finger into her. “I thought you were kidding?”

Her words leave on a gasp, and I grin.

“Definitely not kidding.”

“Right now?”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a year, ever since you told me about this fantasy of yours.”

“But it wasmyfantasy—it can wait. Oh, my God, yes, right there.”

I fucking love the way she responds so quickly to my touch. I love the way she calls out my name in bed, and out of it. I love her openness, especially when she shares her dirty thoughts with me. “It’s my fantasy now, too,” I tell her.

“You can’t be stealing fantasies.” Her leg hooks around my back to ensure I don’t leave. “That’s a cheap move.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Who’s that?” she whispers, throwing her hands up to my shoulders and latching on. Charlie has been that way since the first time we had sex up on the Omni Park House’s rooftop—she wraps herself around me like a monkey until I’ve satiated her completely.

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