Page 42 of In Too Deep

“Show me, princess,” I manage to get out between my pants.

And the award for the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen goes to Tori as she obeys, opening her mouth and letting mine and Eli’s combined loads dribble out over her lips for a moment before she swallows.

“Fucking hell. I want to wake up like this every day,” Eli breathes wistfully.

Tori giggles, wiping her chin and licking her fingers clean, all while blushing like a sheltered virgin. I give her a knowing look, which only makes her blush more. But before I can reply, myphone chimes on my nightstand. And when I lean over and see the message, I scoff and laugh.

Spencer

Y’all better hurry up before the chocolate chip pancakes get cold.

I read the message out loud, and Tori bolts up, not even bothering with pants before she scurries out of the room and beelines downstairs, where her favorite breakfast waits, mine and Eli’s laughter echoing behind her.

I’d be lying ifI didn’t say that the next week absolutely sucked. Logan is a hard ass off and on the ice, and it’s almost impossible to get any time with the Eli and Spencer, especially now that they’re on the same page. It’s not unjustified, I have to remind myself. The team is on track to make the playoffs, but only if they stay completely focused and don’t let off the gas for the rest of the season. He’s got them coming in for extra strength and cardio sessions, and practices are longer than ever.

For my part, Dee hasn’t slowed down with my training in the slightest, and he’s tossed me headfirst into the deep end. I’m sitting in on meetings, taking over as the primary contact person for half of my boss’s connections. I’ve had to delegate many of my pet projects, like my Behind the Number interview series, and the mic’ed up practices. I’ve also had to spend almost every game in the executive suite to network, which means I don’t even get to sit with Oli in the press box.

I’m exhausted by the time I shoulder into the suite well in advance of the last game before the All-Star break, not that it’s going to be much of a break. Dee is sending me with Spencer to Las Vegas to meet with some of the national broadcast team in person. But we have to be at the airport almost immediately after the final buzzer to make it there with enough time to grab a few hours of sleep. Then we’re up and running for three days of chaos.

It’s why I chose to come up to the suite early. I need a few minutes of solitude and silence without someone trying to talk to me or my phone ringing. Except, when I push the door open, there’s already someone in here, sitting in the center of the front row. A familiar someone, with dark hair and the most expensive suit I’ve ever seen.

“Mr. St. Clair, I’m so sorry! We didn’t know—”

“No, you didn’t, Miss Strauss. I prefer it that way,” Gideon St. Clair says, not bothering to turn around to address me.

I hesitate in the doorway, not sure if I should sit down or run. Usually, visits from the owners are planned weeks in advance, so we can hire extra security and find different seats for some of the more...overeagermembers of the back-office staff. Is this a test? Was I supposed to know he was coming?

“Are you going to just stand there? I presume you had a purpose for coming in here before I interrupted you,” he says into the silence.

Swallowing hard, I grasp the leather strap tight for a moment before making my way down to the front row a few seats down from Gideon, my bag coming to rest in a seat between us. I can feel Gideon’s eyes on me as I pull my tray table in front of me and busy myself with plugging in my laptop.

“That is quite a lovely bag, Miss Strauss. Christmas present from someone special?” Gideon asks.

I do my best to keep any telling emotions off my face. Giving him a pleasant smile, I tilt my head innocently.

“You could say that, yeah,” I reply, turning to my laptop screen as it boots up.

Gideon hums, but doesn’t reply. He and I sit in what could almost be called companionable silence for a while, with him typing away on his phone, and me answering emails and approving graphics for tonight’s game. I almost miss doing them, especially since it gave me an excuse to stare at my alphas’ handsome faces.

“Hoover has been fielding trade offers, more than I’m used to reviewing. Do you think we need to make any changes at the deadline?” Gideon asks, his deep and slightly raspy voice making me jump slightly.

I look up from my computer and study his profile for a moment. George Hoover, the general manager, must see something in the team if he’s looking to acquire new pieces, probably to shore up the team for a playoff push. Not that I can think of any real gaps that we need to fill. Once Oli’s back to full health, we can send Leroy back to Shreveport and hopefully make up for the chaos he’s been causing on the ice.

When I say as much, Gideon just hums thoughtfully. “It was a shame Astrauckas took that hit. He was on the other side of the ice and abandoned the play. And for what? Just to land himself on IR for God knows how long,” he grumbles.

I swallow the impulse to step in to defend Oliver. Gideon’s smart enough to see through any excuse I might come up with to the heart of my intentions. Instead, I just shrug and try to go back to my emails.

“As stupid as that move was, it will be ideal to get him back out on the ice. But I’ve looked at a couple of offers that aren’t half bad, and he’d make a great bargaining chip. A young, talented left-handed winger, one with top line experience, and stats thenumbers nerds piss themselves over. That’s quite the carrot to dangle to lure the right people to the table.”

My blood turns ice, and my eyes meet Gideon's. He’s staring directly into my soul, his hazel eyes void of any emotion but sharp as Damascus steel, and I know he senses my panic. There’s no doubt he’s an alpha, but he’s never exerted any dominance over me in the past. But now, a simple look has my omega instincts screaming to roll over, show my belly, and tell him everything. Would he have mercy on me? Or would he fire me on the spot? Dee might be on my side, but this is the owner of the team staring me down. Gideon St. Clair has a reputation for being ruthless, and I never thought I’d end up on the receiving end of that streak.

“I-I th-think it would be better to keep him here,” I say simply, flinching internally for stuttering and showing weakness.

Gideon stares through me for another agonizing moment, the silence worse than anything he could shout at me. Eventually, his eyes flick down to my bag and back up to my face. Shit.Shit shit shit.

But then his phone pings, drawing his attention and, to my utter astonishment, something around his eyes softens. Like the cold-hearted, no-nonsense business mogul retreats to expose a tiny portion of the man beneath. And I have to keep my jaw tight to avoid it falling off when he smiles as he types his reply. I manage to compose myself as he looks back up at me, his mouth returning to a frown, but the tenderness around his hazel eyes remains.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Tori,” he says simply.

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