Page 89 of Major Penalty

But that thought…it comes with a razor edge. Because if I’m the only one who knows, if this is just between us, then maybe that’sexactlyhow she wants it.

What if this is all just a phase for her? A thrill. Some fun sexual awakening she plans to grow out of once she’s had enough of me. And what if I’m the one left holding the pieces? I don’t want to be hidden. I want to be…wanted. I want her to be with me all the time. Not just in secret.

And I don’t want to lie. Not to Coach, and not to her.

I want her to trust me. To look me in the eye and tell me who she really is. And I’m ready to do the same. Tonight.

I step into her office just as she’s finishing up.

She looks up, and the second our eyes meet, I see it. That same flush on her cheeks, the heat still lingering in her gaze.

My eyes flick to the trash can near her desk, an empty food container right on top.

She ate. Good girl.

“Hey,” she says softly, with a smile.

“Hey, yourself.” I return her smile. “Ready to go?”

“In a minute,” she says, grabbing her tablet. “I pulled up the scans to show you.”

She’s talking, explaining it to me like I don’t already know. But I don’t care about the scan, I care abouther.

I stalk toward her slowly, eyes locked on her, while she keeps talking about my hip. I close the distance between us and lean in. She looks up at me mid-sentence, her eyes wide. And then I kiss her softly, shutting her up.

No more hip talk.

Her lips part slightly, letting me taste more of her. I give her one last lingering kiss before I pluck the tablet from her hand and set it on her desk.

“That’s enough work for today,” I murmur, and she stares up at me, blinking. “Okay?”

“Okay.” She nods with a small smile. “Where are we going again?”

I take her hand in mine, lifting it and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles.

“You’ll see.”

The sun’s starting to dip as we pull through the gates of the property—sky painted in gold, red, and shadows. That quiet hour where daylight fades and night begins to take over. It feels familiar.

I drive past our guard post, nodding at security. They greet me as usual, but this time, their eyes flick to the passenger seat.

“What is this place?” Irene asks, watching the road as we drive through the hilltop estate.

“This whole property,” I say, my voice even, “belongs to me, Rowan, and Damien. We bought it when we started our real estate company.”

She turns to look at me, brows raised. “You own a real estate company?”

“Co-own, yes.” I nod once.

She blinks. “I didn’t know you did anything outside of hockey.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” A lot I haven’t told her. A lot I don’t know how to say, but I will.

I glance at her again, my chest tightening. And there it is. That creeping tension under my ribs. I want her to know everything. I want her to see me, all of me. But the fear that she won’t like what she sees claws at my spine. I can take any hit on the ice. But I don’t know if I could take her walking away.

We pass Rowan’s mansion—clean lines, modern, all glass and steel.

“That one’s Rowan’s,” I say, nodding to the left.

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