Page 113 of Power Play

“I know you have access to things I don’t, but that’s not the only reason I want you to be my husband, Liam.” I lick my lips, and he follows the path of my tongue. “The time I’ve spent with you is the most fun I’ve ever had. I feel free. Like when I go back into the dating world, I won’t be afraid. We don’t have much time left before we’ve fulfilled all the parts of our agreement with the lessons and your sister’s wedding, and I want to be greedy. I want to have fun for a little while longer.”

“We keep this between us.” He brushes his nose against mine, and I close my eyes. “We don’t tell anyone else. Not your friends. Not the team.”

“I think we’re supposed to kiss to make this official.” I dig my fingernails into his thigh. “Man and wife and all of that.”

“Looks like you’re going to have to be in charge of this lesson. What else can you teach me, Piper?”

Before I can say anything else, Liam’s mouth is on mine.

His kiss is lazy. Slow and sensual until I’m kicking the blanket off the couch and straddling his lap. His hand rests on my lower back then drifts down to cup my ass. I feel him hard under me, the length of his cock pressing against me in a torturous way, and then cool metal brushes against my skin.

Holy shit.

He’s still wearing his wedding ring.

“How’s that,wife?” he asks, his lips moving to my jaw. “Official enough for you?”

My words catch in my throat. I can’t speak, too enthralled by the path of his palms and where his mouth might go next.

I can only nod, sinking into the pleasure of knowing I might have made the best decision of my life.

Getting married a second time is a hell of a lot more fun than the first.

THIRTY

LIAM

I’ve worked hardto be in the position I am as starting goalie, but it’s nice to have a night off now and then. It’s nice to take a breather during back-to-back games. It’s nice to sit on the bench and watch my teammates play instead of tracking the puck for sixty minutes. They’re way more fun than vulcanized rubber.

And having the night off while we play the worst team in the league is a treat.

I’m exhausted from this last week.

Vegas.

Piper.

Getting married.

Three games, two wins and a loss.

Piper.

One accidental sleepover turned into another one two nights ago. We stayed up late talking about nothing and everything. Stupid shit. Deep shit. Funny shit. I told her about my early days as a college player. She shared the stories about her first exposure to hockey and how quickly she fell in love with the sport.

The other times she comes over and we hang out, Pico will curl up between us. She’ll stroke his fur as she hooks an ankle over my calf, a smile on her mouth while I tell her about the hoops I had to jump through to get the stubborn cat back to the States with me.

It feels so fuckingeasy, but everything with Piper is easy.

The buzzer sounds at the end of the second period, and I stand with the rest of the guys. I take my time skating to the tunnel, grateful not to have to spend intermission on a trainer’s table because my legs are sore as shit.

“Lucky bastard,” Maverick grumbles as he passes me. “I wish I could have the night off.”

“Seems like you do with how terribly you’re playing,” Hudson says, and I smirk.

“Fuck you, Hayes,” Maverick tosses back, but there’s no bite behind it. Those two are best friends and calling each other on their shit is practically a love language. “Maybe you could try for an assist in the third period instead of hanging back and fixing your hair while the rest of us are in the offensive zone.”

“Says the guy who looks in the mirror more than anyone I know,” I throw in, and Hudson grins my way.

---