Page 175 of Pucking Wild

“Thank fucking God,” he groans, his teeth nipping my bottom lip as he stands. Our angle changes, and now he’s pressing in, our warm flesh fitting perfectly together. “I love you too,” he says against my lips. “I’ve been dying to say it for days. I looked for you at my game. I wanted you there so badly. I wanted to tell you with my jersey on your back.”

I lean away, breaking our kiss. “Your jersey?”

He nods, biting his bottom lip in that adorable way he does when he’s nervous. “Yeah, I uhh…left you that stuff earlier,” he says, pointing to the nightstand.

I glance over my shoulder, my heart twisting in a little knot. I meant to open it before the game, but then I got the box from Troy, and it felt too painful to know what sweet, thoughtful thing Ryan left for me. “What is it?” I say.

“Tickets to the game,” he replies. “A parking pass and a WAG room pass.”

“What’s the other thing?”

His hands give my hips a little push. “Open it.”

Turning away from him, I pad on bare feet over to the side table, pretty sure I already know what this will be. I unwrap the tissue paper and hold up a Rays home game jersey. It’s a pretty aqua blue with thick black, white, and brick red stripes on the sleeves and along the bottom. The stingray logo rests large on the front, a few brand logos stitched to the chest, including a patch for the Winter Classic. A number 20 is stitched on both shoulders. I flip it around to see the big number 20 on the back, framed above by his name: Langley.

“Is this your actual jersey?” I say over my shoulder. “Like, the one you wear during the game?”

He nods.

I turn around, holding it up to my frame, my hand smoothing over the fabric. “Am I even allowed to have this?”

He laughs, flicking my hair off my shoulder and replacing it with his warm lips. “Yeah, I wore that one during the Winter Classic.”

My blood goes cold, my fingers holding tight to the jersey. “You wore it when you hurt your knee.”

“I wore it when I was looking foryou,” he corrects.

“What?”

He steps in, the jersey pinned between us. “You were so in my head already,” he admits, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I had a split moment on the ice when I looked up through the glass, and I swear to God I thought I saw you standing there.”

“Me?”

He nods. “Yeah, you were watching me, cheering for me, and I thought my heart was gonna burst. I wanted it to be you…which means I didn’t see the hit coming.” He leans in, placing a gentle kiss to my lips. “Baby, I never saw you coming,” he whispers against my lips. “This is yours now,” he adds, his hand closing around the fabric. “No one can wear this but you.”

“Wow. This is pretty serious, Ryan.”

He nods again, his hands smoothing up my forearms.

“I admit, I don’t know a lot about hockey, but this is basically you asking me to go steady, right? Isn’t this like the sporty version of becoming your old lady?”

“Well, you are ten years older—ouch—” He laughs, rubbing the spot on his arm where I just punched him. “Tess, do you want to be my sporty old lady?” he teases. “You wanna ride my dick and cheer for my team and wear my jersey to my games?”

I’m still shaking my head at his low blow, but then I’m smiling and saying, “Yes.”

“You know what else wearing this jersey means, right?” he says, his face turning serious.

I raise a brow in question.

“It means we go public. The only person who wears my jersey ismyperson. You’re mine and I’m yours and we’re together. Everyone will know, Tess. The team, our friends, the fans…Troy.”

I hate the sound of his name spoken from Ryan’s lips. I send up a silent prayer that it’s the last time he ever says it.

“Whatever happens, we face it together, yeah? Good press, bad press, and all the press in between,” he goes on. “You handle your ex. If you want me to stay out of it, I will. But running and hiding from him are off the fucking table. If you’re mine, you stand and fight. We don’t hide from our pasts, and we don’t keep secrets. Truth and trust. No more working alone, alright?”

I nod again. It’s scary for me with all my baggage, but I want this. I want Ryan and the uncomplicated happiness he’s offering me. I want to leave my past behind and move forward. I want to trust him. He’s holding out a hand like a lifeline, and I’m taking it.

“You’re mine,” I say, the jersey pinned between our naked bodies as I brush a hand down his chest, over his abs. With a smile, I palm his dick, stroking along his shaft with my fingers until he twitches in my hand.

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