Page 197 of Power Play

“I’m one of the only reporters, Ethan.” I laugh when he scoops me up in a hug and spins me around. “Gosh, I’m glad to see you. You look so much better than you did in the hospital.”

“That’s because those gowns don’t bring out all my pretty features.”

“Glad to see your humility didn’t take a beating in your collision with the guardrail.”

“I’m invincible, P, and I feel fan-fucking-tastic. It was a little touch and go there for a while, but I’m on the mend. Bummed Ican’t play if we make it to the finals next week, but I’ll be back stronger next season and ready to kick ass.”

“You must not be very good if the boys are doing fine without you.”

“You’ve gotten snarkier since you started rendezvousing with Sullivan. I like it.” He sets me back on two feet and flashes me another grin. “What are you doing here so early?”

“We have one of the most important games of the season tonight, and I can’t sit at home. I’m too jittery there.” I fix my skirt and give his shoulder a gentle nudge. “And stop doing strenuous activities. Lifting me could hurt your stitches.”

“Rude of you to assume I’m so weak I can’t lift you. You’re light as shit.” He turns for the locker room. “I’m going to terrorize Maverick and Hudson for a bit. Don’t work too hard. You need to have some fun in your life too.”

“Says the guy dealing with a concussion.” I laugh, heading the opposite direction before another player can catch me off guard.

“Going somewhere?” a deep voice says from behind me, and I can’t help but smile at the familiar tone.

It’s the same one that whisperedgood morningin my ear just before the sun came up earlier today. The one that asked if I wanted itgentle or roughlast night when his hand was buried in my jeans and his mouth was on my neck. The one that saidI love youa million different ways over the last year, my favorite being the heart he holds up when he skates on the ice, finding me in the crowd right away.

“Yes, actually. Away from all you boys.” I glance over my shoulder. Liam is leaning against the wall in jeans and a T-shirt, watching me. His eyes roam down my body greedily, taking in my outfit, and a flash of heat blazes behind his gaze. “You’re annoying.”

“At least we’re consistent.” He walks my way me. A smile draws at the corners of his lips and the pink mark I left on his throat two days ago sneaks out from under his collar. When he gets close enough to reach me, he tugs on my skirt and pulls me into his hold, arms settling around my waist. “Hey, Sunshine.”

“Hey, Sully.”

His warm fingers curl around my chin and lift my head so he can press a kiss to my mouth. I melt into him, sinking into the feeling of being home, of being loved, of being so unbelievably happy, sometimes I think I’m dreaming all this up.

I laugh every day. I smile every day. I hear how incredible I am, how wonderful I am, how proud he is of meevery single day. I could burst from the wonderfulness of it all, but I’ve learned to sink into it. To recognize this is what I deserve. What I’ve waited for, and I’ve welcomed it with open arms.

Liam and I did things backward with the whole getting-drunk-and-married-in-Vegas thing, so we’ve spent the last year backpedaling. Dating each other. Getting to know each other on a level where I can tell you his goals, his biggest dreams, and his scariest fears.

Neither one of us offered up the idea of a divorce, and the further removed we got from the inebriated ceremony, the more I fall in love with him.

Which is wild, considering I’m obsessed with the man. Wearing his jersey to the arena. Getting a littleLtattooed on the back of my right forearm.

He has a matching one on his left arm, so he must be obsessed with me too.

“Are you busy?” Liam moves his mouth to the spot below my ear, kissing me there and brushing his nose against my cheek. “Or can I steal you for a while?”

“Depends. Is it to make out in a supply closet?”

“Something far more serious than that. We’re at work, Mitchell. Have some decorum.”

I untangle our limbs and look up at him. I revel in the grin on his face and the wrinkles around his eyes. The scrunch of his nose and the laugh lines that have gotten deeper in the last twelve months because he’s learned not to take life so seriously.

“Is it your hamstring? Are you hurt? Iknewwe shouldn’t have played paintball with the guys last weekend. If Coach finds out you?—”

Liam cuts me off with another kiss. Hungrier this time, like he’s been starving for years and finally getting the chance to eat.

“It involves you, actually.”

“What did I do?”

“It’s what you’re going to do. The team is putting together a women-in-sports montage to feature on social media next month, and they want to feature you.”

“What’s so special about little old me?”

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