Page 48 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice

I feel the warmth of her words spread through me, grounding me while the rest of the locker room is pure and utter chaos. I need to change the subject quickly, before something even cheesier or sappy comes out of my mouth.

:Are you heading

back to the hotel before

going out?

Ziggy:Yeah, I have a little

something crotchless

that I’m trying out

tonight.

:Are you wearing

them right now…

Ziggy:No, silly.

That is why I need

to go back to the

hotel to change.

Ziggy:Will I see you

at the after party?

:Definitely.

:I need to

celebrate with your

new panties properly.

Ziggy:Can’t wait.

Her simple response sends a shiver down my spine. I turn back to the celebration, my thoughts already a step ahead, waiting for the moment I see her again. Ziggy has been a constant source of support and strength throughout this journey. The only person I want to share the moment with is her. I can’t wait to get the rest of the bullshit out of the way and spend the evening with my girl.

After all of our postgame chores are over, the boys and I can fully focus on celebrating. The team's General Manager has a bar pre-booked for us to celebrate. He must have really been feeling confident in our ability to bring home the win and advance to the playoffs to have forked out an ungodly amount of money on renting out a bar in advance. It would have been a real bad vibe if we had lost— all of us sitting there crying into our beers.

Luckily, it isn’t something we have to worry about tonight. We won and are ready to fucking party. We deserve it, and the night is just getting started. We are all on cloud nine, so none of us bother enough to give a shit that we have to ride the team bus through the streets of Pittsburg like some kids on a school bus. I stand up on the bus, ignoring the protests of Nolan as I shout back to the rest of the team, “Let's get wrecked, boys!”

Chapter 37

The bar is packed by the time we get here. And everyone that is here, is here to support us, greeting us like champions. Drinks flow freely as a feeling of pure joy settles over the room. This is the team as a whole's first time making it to the playoffs, but it does matter if it's the first time you’ve made it to the playoffs or the 47th, it's still a big deal. I spot Ziggy almost immediately, standing near the bar with a drink in hand, her eyes brightening when she spots me. My breath catches in my throat.

The sight of her makes my pulse race. She is wearing a tight black leather skirt that hugs her curves in all the right ways, paired with heels that make her legs look endless. But what really floors me is the Red Wolves jersey tied up just above her waist. Number 32. My jersey. Her lips are painted a deep shade of red that makes my cock stand at attention. The very sight of her does things to me and stirs something primal and possessive deep inside. She is a knockout, and for now, she is all mine.

“Elliot!” she calls out, pushing through the crowd to reach me. She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me into a tight hug. “Congratulations! You guys were amazing out there.”

“Thanks, Anatife,” I reply, grinning from ear to ear. “It feels incredible.” I hesitate for a moment before releasing her. Knowing that if I keep her in my arms much longer, there will be questions.

We stay close as the celebration continues, enjoying the company of my friends and teammates and their families. Laughter, music, and toasts to our success fill the bar, melting away any of the remaining tension, replacing it with a renewed sense of purpose and a rightly earned sense of accomplishment. Ford, stumbles over next to Ziggy with a grin that is too smug for my liking.

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