Page 49 of Captain's Claim

I’m sore in muscles I didn’t even know I had. What the hell? I didn't evendoanything.

It’s like I did a full-body workout at the gym, except instead of weights, I lifted one giant six-foot-four, smirking, ego-inflated hockey captain.

My thighs throb. My core isruined. My voice is slightly hoarse, because apparently, I’m the type of woman who screams when she orgasms. Good to know.

My phone buzzes loudly on my nightstand, rattling against the wood like it’s just as eager for me to wake up as the rest of this godforsaken town.

Nope. Not dealing with the real world yet. Not when my body still aches in places it definitely shouldn’t, and my apartment still smells like him.

It's a scent so inherently Blake Maddox it practicallygrowls. It’s on my skin. My sheets. My goddamn soul.

I inhale deeply, and-

Regret hits instantly.

Because now, on top of the ache between my thighs, I’ve just deep-throated a memory that I should probably be trying to forget.

I crack one eye open, squinting at the pale sliver of light creeping through the blinds. The sun is barely up, the sky still smudged with dawn, but already, Iron Ridge is awake.

I canhearit - car doors slamming outside, the distant echo of a radio announcer predicting a"massive night for the Icehawks."Somewhere, a dad is probably face-painting his toddler while his wife shakes her head in resigned hockey widow fatigue.

Because it’s game day in Iron Ridge.

My phone buzzes again.

"Dammit. Go away."

I throw an arm out, slapping at it blindly, but instead of knocking it off the table, I see my screen flashing bright with a notification from the official Iron Ridge Icehawks Instagram account.

With a sense of absolute bone-chilling dread, I grab my phone and unlock it. There, in glorious high-definition, is a video.

A very specific video. A video that I thoughtIwas in charge of uploading to the social media accounts of the club.

The caption added to the video?

Blake Maddox gives the new Icehawks Executive a lesson in skating… and something else?

I choke on my own spit and slam the volume button down so hard my phone nearly cracks.

I click play, horrified, watching the already-viral footage unfold before me.

I stare in horror as the reactions flash up before my eyes as Blake has his hands firmly on my waist, steadying me on the ice like he actuallygives a damn.The camera shows himsmirking down at me, all amusement and satisfaction, like I’m his favorite new toy.

Then, I can barely watch as Blake lets me go. For a moment, I look happy. Heart emojis flash before my eyes, then, I start flailing like a baby deer, limbs windmilling in a desperate,futileattempt to stay upright.

Cue laughing reactions flashing everywhere on the screen.

I can only watch as I see myself crash to the ice in a spectacular, bone-rattling, soul-crushing face-first wipeout.

I don't know why I do it, but I look to the comment section to try and ease the sting of embarrassment.

'He looks at her like she's the puck. And he's about to slapshot her straight into his bed!'

'I bet my life savings our boy went home with that last night.'

'THE CHEMISTRY. I AM DECEASED.'

I throw my phone across the bed and fall back against my pillows.

---