Page 56 of Glitz & Goals

The energy surges as the guys dig deep. Knight battles in the corner, shoving off two defenders before slipping the puck to Viktor, who threads it to Tristan in front of the net. The arena erupts as Tristan buries it, the goal horn blaring loud enough to rattle the boards.

The final seconds drag as the Redhawks pull their goalie, swarming the zone. “Clear it!” I shout, my voice raw as Viktor slaps the puck down the ice, just wide of the empty net. The buzzer sounds, and the crowd explodes.

Victory.

The guys leap over the boards to hug Owen, helmets flying, and the bench is alive with celebration. But my focus drifts upward. Viv’s on her feet, clapping and cheering, her face lit with pure joy.

My chest tightens. It’s irrational, I know. Her excitement doesn’t have anything to do with me. It’s her brother, her family.But something about it gnaws at me, this strange, unshakable ache. I force myself to look away, jaw set. This win is ours, but all I can think about is how much I want to claim this woman as mine.

Tonight. Tomorrow.

Forever.

The crowd is going nuts. That’s when I see the number on Viv’s jersey, right under the name Abbott.

It’s Viktor’s jersey.

For some reason, this pisses me all the way off. I know I’m being irrational. I mean, come on, it’s her brother’s jersey. It’s her own damn name.

But it’s also her father’s name. Her father’s team colors. And I wish more than anything she’d be up there wearing my old number, cheering for me, back when I was a player, when I was one of the top forwards in the NHL.

It’s not like I have a Venom jersey with my name on it for sale in the pro shop. I’m the coach, for Christ’s sake.

I don’t know what to call this feeling. It’s not quite jealousy. It’s almost like I’m nostalgic for a time that never existed. I turn away and head off the ice with the team, carried by the applause from the audience.

I text Viv.

Grady: Come to my place after you leave. I’m skipping the Puck Drop.

I don’t wait for her answer. I already had plans for us tonight, but now I’ve got an added element in mind.

All I have to do is figure out which box I left it in.

* * *

By the time Viv shows up at my front door, I’m already a man on the edge. The ropes are coiled neatly in the bedroom, thecandles casting soft, golden light across the space I prepared just for her. Every detail has been deliberate—like this is a ceremony, not just a night. It’s more like a claiming. I want to worship her. Every single inch. The sound of her footsteps on the stairs pulls the air from my lungs, leaving me weightless and anchored all at once. She doesn’t knock. She never does. And somehow, that simple familiarity undoes me.

I’ve planned this evening down to the smallest touch, the kind of care a man puts into something he might never deserve but aches to get right. Viv’s voice lingers in my mind, the teasing challenge she threw my way during her last visit, sparking the fire that’s been burning ever since. So tonight isn’t just about tying her—it’s about showing her what she means to me, even if the words won’t come.

She steps into the room with a smile on her face, still wearing that damn Abbott jersey. Her legs look incredible in skinny jeans, but I can’t stop staring at that shirt as she dumps her purse on the dresser.

“Someone’s eager tonight,” she teases.

I move up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. She immediately leans back against me, fitting her body perfectly against mine. I kiss the back of her neck. “Surely I’m not the only one?”

“Touché. Especially since I’ve been very good and haven’t touched myself since our little interlude at the arena.”

“Really?” I slip one hand under the hem of her shirt. “I lack your self-restraint.”

“Really.” She turns her head to face me. Her nipples are already hard beneath the thin material of her bra. “But since you’re apparently going to test the limits of my endurance, I figured I’d better come prepared.”

I cup her breast and give it a gentle squeeze. “I thought making you come was my job.”

Her laugh is breathless. “Corny. Dad jokes are a real mood killer.”

“Mm.” I nip her earlobe. “How do you feel about rope?”

Viv presses her hips back, rubbing her ass against my erection. “I like rope.”

---