Page 70 of Hat Trick

It’s all she needs to tip over the edge. She comes, whispering my name, begging me to neverstop.

Three more hard thrusts, and I follow her into the abyss. I roar out her name, and spill everything that I am withinher.

A no-good kid from Southie with a dirty-talking mouth and an obsession withhockey.

“My legs,” she whispers after a moment, “my legs are going todie.”

“Was it worth it?” I change our positions, rolling her over onto her back so my body covershers.

Her smile is beautiful. “Soworthit.”

I grin back down at her. “I saved the best forlast.”

“What’sthat?”

“This,” I tell her, and then I lower my face to hers. Gwen meets me in the middle for a kiss that steals my soul. It’s soft and languid, and nothing like the sex we just had—and it’s just another reason to love thiswoman.

She sighs against my mouth. “Best fantasy kiss I’ve everhad.”

“Iknow.”

Her hands drift up my back. “You know the only thing that would make this better?Pie.”

Laughter clogs my throat as I stare down at her. “I’m done with the pie. Hell, myassis done with all things pietoo.”

Beautiful blue eyes meet mine. “I guess I’d be willing to trade the pie for anotherkiss.”

I sink down into her, grazing my lips over hers. “Now, that I cando. . .”

28

Hunt

I’mhot tonight on theice.

It’s our last game before Christmas in two days, and TD Garden is full of holidaycheer.

And by that, I mean, the Tampa Bay Lightning fans are losing their shit after I nail the net with my second goal in the lastperiod.

Carter grabs me around the neck and touches our helmets together. “That’s what I’m talking about, Hunt,” he shouts over the din in the arena, “that’s what I’m fucking talkingabout!”

I don’t know whether I’m riding on the euphoria of being with Gwen or the fact that me and my boys are taking names and kicking ass tonight, but I don’t want it tostop.

It’s games like these that remind me I’m on the right path, that I spent months collecting dirty towels for a reason before Mark James ever let me step foot on theice.

Gwen’s father taught me to respect the hard work hockeyrequires.

He also taught me to keep my head out of my ass and recognize that I won’t always be thebest.

Tonight, though, I am the best and I plan to milk it for all itsworth.

Coach Hall calls us to the bench for the second line to take over. Our shift swap is fast, efficient, and the next thing I know, I’m guzzling Gatorade from the sidelines and watching my teammates defend our two-goal lead against TampaBay.

We’ll have maybe one or two plays to get a breather, and like always, I do my best to keep my mind in thegame.

“Hunt!Hunt!”

I’m used to hearing fans chant my name, and I’m not one of those pricks who won’t pause for a half-second to appreciate that the people in this stadium are the reason I play hockey for acareer.

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