Page 11 of Captain's Claim

My jaw tightens. "She doesn't belong here."

Logan barks out a laugh. "Yeah? Could've fooled me, man. She looks like she owns the place."

Sophia laughs at something Dave says, the sound carrying across the room. The diamonds at her ears catch the light when she tips her head back, exposing the elegant line of her throat.

Fuck.

My fingers crush the empty glass. I should look away. Should remember all the reasons she's trouble - her plans to change my team, her corporate mindset, her ability to get under my skin.

She’s here to fix what doesn’t need fixing. To turn this team into something it’s not.

But fuck if I don’t want to…

"You're so screwed," Connor adds, laughing softly.

"I said, shut up."

A suddenclink, clink, clinkof a glass being tapped draws attention toward the center of the lounge.Big Mike stands near the bar, raising his drink, his deep, gravelly voice booming over the music.

“Alright, folks, listen up!” I can't miss that it's the Icehawks' owner, despite the mask. Hardly anyone in the whole nation matches his bulky figure. His grin is mischievous, shown in the way his eyes twinkle beneath his own mask. “As always, tonight’sabout tradition, so you know what that means. If you’re an Icehawk, or if you’re dating one, you’ve gotta participate.”

The room breaks into murmurs.

Coach Brody, standing beside him, smirks. “That's right. So for our new faces tonight, allow me to introduce the annualMidnight Masquerade Dance.”

More murmurs. Someone whistles from the back of the room.

Logan groans beside me. “God, not this again.”

Connor nudges him. “You’re just mad because you always get stuck with someone’s grandmother.”

“It wasone time,” Logan growls.

Big Mike grins. “Mask on, pick a partner. One rule: No talking. Just let the music guide you.” His gaze sweeps the room. “You never know who you’ll end up with until the music stops at midnight. Then, and only then, can you reveal your face to your mystery dance partner.”

The lights dim, the jazz music shifts into somethingslower, sexier.

Fuck. I hate this shit.

A rustle of movement spreads as people turn, scanning the room, choosing. The anonymity of the masks makes it all the more dangerous.

I should step back.

But I don’t.

Because Sophia is already shifting toward the floor, her delicate gold mask hiding just enough of her expression to make me desperate to know what she’s thinking.

I swore I’d keep my distance from her. That I don't care about the entrance she'd made atmyteam.

But then some asshole moves toward her.

Some cocky second-string player, all charm and bravado, stretching out his hand like he's got a fucking shot.

No way asshole. Not happening.

Before I can think, I moving. Fast.

I cut through the crowd and my hand clamps around hers, firm, decisive,mine. A bolt of heat zaps up my arm and her sharp gasp cuts through the air. I pull her against me, her delicate frame nearly stumbling into me from the force.

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