Page 92 of The Secret Play

I held my breath.

Casey blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You’re…okay with this?”

“I’m more than okay with it,” the man said with a faint smile. “You’ve got a family now. This means you will need this job, since families are expensive. And since I don’t foresee you carousing with anyone else’s sister?—”

“Ha! No!”

“Your job is safe, Casey. I’m going back to Texas for the offseason. For what it’s worth, congratulations. Make sure I get a wedding invitation.” He gave a short nod and smiled, before leaving the office, closing the door behind him.

Chapter 37

Casey

The sound of my office door clicking shut behind Matthew was like the first breath of air after being underwater for too long. How long had I been holding my breath over this? It felt like forever. I leaned back against my desk, running a hand through my hair, my chest heaving with relief.

I hadn’t been sure how that conversation was going to go. Matthew had a way of keeping me on edge. That quirky bastard never revealed his thoughts until the very last moment. I figured he liked to make people nervous—it was some kind of powerplay that amused him. Truly wealthy people had odd hobbies. I’d known only a few, and each was a unique snowflake who made life challenging in their way. For most of the conversation with Matthew, I’d braced myself for the worst—for the possibility that tonight would be my last game as the Fire’s head coach.

But what a way to go out.

The game had been an all-timer. I looked forward to the highlight reel because every second of that game could be featured. Even the Bulldozer wasn’t enough to secure the Seattle Razor’s win. It had been the game of a lifetime, and, because Matthew had an odd sense of morality, I still had more games to go.

I couldn’t believe he’d let me off the hook. More than that, he had congratulated me and wanted an invitation to our wedding. The same man, who’d once told me hockey should come before everything else, had smiled and said he was glad my priorities were finally in order. I had to stop thinking I could predict him, because he proved me wrong time and time again.

For the first time all night, I felt like I could breathe again.

Gemma was safe from the fans. My job was safe from Matthew. We were getting married. Somehow, the stars had aligned, and things worked out.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, already scrolling to Gemma’s name. I needed to tell her everything—about Matthew, how much I loved her, that we could finally move forward without this cloud hanging over us, and how I wanted to wake up beside her every day for the rest of my life.

But then the storage closet door creaked open. I nearly jumped out of my skin, my heart racing as the door swung wide, my fingers scrambling not to drop my phone.

“What the hell?” I started, my voice catching in my throat. But I lost that train of thought when Gemma stepped out, wearing nothing but her bra and panties and an expression that left no room for misinterpretation.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even think. The sight of her pooled all the blood low in my body, and my mouth went dry. “Gemma…what are you—why are you?—”

Before I could finish my question, she crossed the room in three determined steps and grabbed my face, her lips crashing against mine.

Any thoughts I’d had—confusion, coherent words—disappeared the instant she kissed me. Every kiss we shared was that way. Each kiss coalesced priorities into the meeting of our mouths. Her soft hands slid to the back of my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair as she kissed me with a desperation that stole my breath. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer, the feel of her satiny skin against my hands setting off sparks in every nerve of my body.

“Gemma,” I murmured against her lips, trying to catch my breath, but she didn’t give me a chance to say more.

“No talking.”

I wasn’t about to argue.

She pushed me back against the desk, her hands sliding under my shirt as she kissed me like she couldn’t get enough. Her warmth against my cold chest lit me from the inside. My jacket hit the floor first, followed by my shirt, and when her lips trailed down my neck, my brain officially short-circuited.

I lifted her onto the desk, her legs wrapping around my waist as I kissed her deeply, pouring every ounce of love and passion I felt into the moment.

The office faded away, the arena noise a distant hum. It was just us, lost in each other. She shoved my pants down, grabbing me in her hot little hand and stroking me as I pumped against her palm. She rubbed the head of my cock against herself, wet and ready for me. When I entered her, nothing else existed. Not the team, not the arena, not time, not space. I sank deep into her there, wishing for a bed to do this right.

But I did have a door.

I lifted her from the desk and carried her so her back was against the door. Every thrust, a new sensation threatened to make me spill right then. But when she stared into my eyes with her every gasp,thatwas the thing that sent me near the point of no return. I felt her love for me in some cosmic way, and it was everything I ever needed.

Her kisses were something animalistic. She fed off my lips the way I fed off hers. Nothing else mattered but her. She was my end and our beginning. My blood thrummed in my ears, my balls, my heart, all at once. I needed her more than I needed anything in my life. When she squeezed around me, rapturous sounds trickled from her mouth, and I devoured each one as she came on me, shuddering until she slowed.

She gasped, “Set me down.”

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