Page 16 of The Labor Date
“Fuck no. Hockey players have stamina, sweetheart. Plenty of it. I’ll be going strong past midnight with you.” I grin. She moans, wrapping her legs around my middle, locking her ankles. “You’re getting hot now, and here I have to leave? No time for a quickie, baby.”
“Then just a kiss for luck,” she whispers, lashes heavy. I don’t need luck, but I take the kiss anyway.
I set her down and hesitate at the door because I can’t not say this. “By the way, you wearing my jersey sends a message to everyone that I’ve claimed you.”
“Do I want to be claimed?” She tilts her head, finger on her chin. It’s not even a valid question.
“You make me work for everything, don’t you?” I shake my head at her.
She chuckles and winks. “Hey hotshot, win tonight, and you can claim me.”
“Done. Be prepared for guaranteedclaimage.” I blow her a kiss and walk out thinking about nothing but being a showboat for her on the ice.
Later during warmups, I search the stands until I spot her beside the penalty box, pressed to the glass, eyes wide. Seeing her there feels like a shot straight to the chest. When I get a chance, I stop in front of her and slap my glove on the glass.
“Hey, baby.” I grin like a lunatic. Never have I given another woman my jersey. Seeing her in it makes me feel like I own the night, like I’m king of the world.
Hunter slides up, putting his goalie glove on the glass next to mine. “She’s here to see me,” he chirps, trying to needle me.
I shove him, light and theatrical. Hunter’s the first friend I’ve made on the team; he’s a giant goofball and the kind of guy you want in the locker room. “Get out of here. You got your own people to meet.” His siblings, Knox and Josie, are in the stands. He’s already invited me to spend a few weeks of the off-season at the ranch Knox works at nearby.
I tap the glass with my glove until Holly puts her palm to it. Even with the barrier, I can feel electricity ping between us. She blows me a kiss, and I feel ten feet tall.
“Here to work or what?” Saint bellows as he and Coach glide by.
I wink and blow Holly a kiss back. “I’m here to kick ass.”
Coach grins as I fall in line with them. “Good. Let’s show these college kids what pro-level playing looks like.”
The team is pumped up for this. Of course, we won’t hurt the college kids. But we’ll make them work for every goal, if we even give them a chance to score.
Tonight, I’m on fire, like the puck is my bitch. First goal: a slap shot through the five-hole. Second, I strip their center, split his ankles with a deke and slip it past the goalie’s glove. The crowd roars, but what makes my blood buzz is Holly on her feet, whistling like she owns the place.
I earn a hat trick in the third when I corral the biscuit in a crowded crease and snap a wrist shot into the top corner.
The light flares, the horn blows, and my teammates pound me on the back—but all I care about is the way Holly blushes as I wink at her, pointing at her as I skate by, because that last goal was for her.
I like having a crowd, but I love playing to one special woman. Fuck. I could get used to this feeling.
Only problem? Does a guy like me get to keep a woman like her? I’ve always known she’s too good for me. For tonight… hell, I’m going to make her believe I’m worth it.
We win, of course. The locker room is a mess of sweat and laughter. Coach gives us a speech about remembering this feeling as we start our game schedule next week. I listen, but all I can think about is getting back to Holly.
She’s waiting by my truck when I come out. She runs, and I catch her with one hand like I’m showing off. My gear bag thumps to the ground as I spin her. Her lips are all over my face like she’s claiming me the way I claimed her with the jersey.
“That was fun. I can’t believe how fast the game is. No wonder you burn a gajillion calories,” she pants.
“And I could burn a few more. Want to go home instead of out?” I ask.
“You made me leave Winston at home, and you’re not even buying me a drink?” She winks, lethal. With that, I’ll do anything she wants.
So we hit the bar downtown with the guys. Holly lets me recount my goals with a creative flair like the hero I think I am, complete with Hunter chiming in with his goalie’s perspective. He earned a shutout, so he’s pretty stoked, too.
When the music kicks up, I pull Holly to the floor and she melts into me, swaying and whispering sexy things into my ear that make my mouth dry and my hands wander up and down her body. I almost take her into the bathroom for some satisfaction, but she’s not some random puck bunny.
She’s the woman I treat like a queen.
“It’s getting late. I wonder what Winston’s been up to,” she says as the night is winding down.
