Page 91 of The Game

“You can go on home, Jordan. I know you’re heading back to Chicago tonight. I’ll get a lift from Cole.” Aspen was at a series of away games, but he’ll be back home tomorrow, and I know Jordan’s planning on surprising him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? Maybe we can go out for a late dinner? Coffee?” She blinks those big green eyes at me, all innocent concern. But I’m familiar with the mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“Not unless you’ve been lonely with Aspen away.” I smack her shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I know you’re going to jump his bones as soon as he gets out here. I don’t need to see that. You going to tell him tonight?”

I nod. “Sure am.” An entire flock of Starlys is flapping around my stomach.

“Okay. Well, let me know if you need anything. Sex tips, best positions when your man is tired after a tough game, favorite toys.”

“Stop it.”

“Fine. I know when I’m not wanted. I’m out of here.” She wraps me up in a warm hug before she flounces off.

“Bye, Jordan.”

She swings around. “Bye.”

Only three quarters of the team have walked past me by the time he emerges. He’s all smiles and damp hair looking smoking hot in his simple gray post game suit. As if these guysaren’t hot enough in their gear, they have to dress them up in suits that strain to contain all those well-honed muscles.

I’m so busy admiring those delightful arms he wraps me up in them before I’ve even registered how close he was. My feet lift off the ground as he swings me up.

“Every fucking time I walk down that tunnel to see you standing here in my jersey, it hits me the same.”

My legs twine around his waist and I can feel exactly where it hits him. His steely hot length is pressed right up against my softest place.

I grab his face, pulling him to me, greedy for a taste.

“Your place or mine,” he mumbles against my lips.

“I’d say mine, because I have a feeling you’re going to make me scream tonight, but you’re the man of the hour. Which would you prefer?”

“Oh, I’m going to make you scream. I was going to say three times. One for every goal I scored tonight, but why stop there? Let’s double it, Coffee Girl.”

“Oh, feeling ambitious. Going for a record?”

“I want to break all the records with you.”

I lean into his ear as he walks, not even bothering to put me down. “You know the most goals scored in a game by a single player is seven.”

“Malone, I know. You want to go for that? Was that a challenge?” I’ve been taking some time to learn more about hockey, and in return he knows way more than he ever thought he would about coffee. There are few things as sexy as my tough hockey boyfriend talking different roasts with me.

“Maybe.”

“I think I can handle it.”

As we’re about to push through the back door, someone calls Cole’s name. The high-pitched voice cuts through the mood, and I narrow my eyes, giving the blonde to our left a vicious side eye. How dare she interrupt us?

He sighs, letting me slide down his body, but keeping a tight hold on my waist. “What do you want, Charlene? Haven’t you caused enough shit between us?”

Something about her looks different. She’s still all bright and shiny, with smooth hair and carefully applied makeup. What is it? Fuzzy pink sweater… That’s it. She’s not wearing my man’s jersey. That’s a relief. I think I might have ripped it off her if I saw her in it again.

She nibbles on her shiny pink lower lip, eyes dropping to her toes. “I just wanted to apologize. To you Cole, and to you Jazz. I’m sorry.”

My eyes widen to the size of hockey pucks, and my mouth falls open. That’s a new tactic.

Cole sighs, rubbing his hands up and down my waist in a steady rhythm that’s probably meant to soothe him just as much as me.

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