Page 131 of Behind the Net

It hurts, and it feels good.

Chaos breaks out around us. Fists fly as players let the pressure off, clutching each other’s jerseys as they land punches. The energy in the arena boils over. I’ve never heard it this loud in here. My blood beats hard, flooded with adrenaline as Miller and I take out our aggression on each other.

The fight is all instinct, all primal rage. I’m gripping his jersey, he’s gripping mine, and we’re hitting each other. The pain feels cathartic, and my face is wet. There’s blood in my mouth and more trickling down from Miller’s eyebrow.

Whistles blow left and right, and it’s a tangle of limbs, helmets rolling around on the ice, guys sitting on each other, jerseys getting ripped.

The fans are going nuts.

I land one more punch and wait as Miller straightens up, the linesmen struggling to pull us apart. The fight dies from his eyes as he catches his breath, watching me.

“Done?” he asks.

He means the fight, but I think he means this seven-year tension. I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth. Blood smears over my skin. My chest heaves for air, and adrenaline whistles through my veins.

Something shifts between us, and my anger deflates. I don’t want to be angry anymore. I just want to move on. I glance at Pippa, who’s peeking through her hands with a worried expression, and my heart clutches.

I don’t want to hold a grudge, because life is too short and sweet. I give Pippa a nod to say I’m okay.

On the bench, I expect Ward to be livid as players get hauled into the penalty boxes, but instead, his smile stretches from ear to ear.

“Yeah,” I tell Miller, meeting his gaze. “Done.”

CHAPTER63

PIPPA

“Your eye,”I gasp when Jamie finds me in one of the staff hallways at the arena after the game. My hand automatically drifts up to his cheekbone, careful not to brush it. The area around his eye is swollen and bruising, and his lip is cut.

“I’m okay, songbird.” The untouched corner of his lip quirks up. Despite the bruises, he seems lighter than before the game, less stressed. “Do I look hideous?”

“You’re too handsome to look hideous. You look even hotter with the black eye.”

His eyes spark with amusement. “You think I’m handsome?”

“You know I do. Bossy and demanding, but unfairly handsome.”

His smile lifts even higher, and I don’t miss the way his hand comes to my lower back as he leads me down the hallway to the parking garage. I look up at him again, so tall, his hair still damp from his shower. My gaze falls to his lip and I can feel the worry all over my expression.

He chuckles and stops walking. “I promise you.” He pulls my hand to his chest, flattening his palm over mine so I can feel the steady thump of his heart. “Feel that?”

His eyes are on me, watching me with affectionate amusement. I nod, and I can’t look away.

“Still beating.” He studies me, and it feels like he wants to say more.

“What happened out there tonight?”

His thumb strokes over the back of my hand absently as he looks away. “Miller and I settled what’s been building for a long time.”

I’ve never heard the arena like it was tonight. The fans were livid and bloodthirsty. Watching Jamie fight tore my heart out, but it also tugged on something between my legs. He looked like a warrior, all power, strength, and brutality.

It was hot.

He strokes my skin again, and I remember the other night, him moving on top of me, and the agonized expression on his face as he came. My center flutters at the idea of it.

“Let’s go home.” His eyes trail over my face, and my gaze snags on his cut lip again.

Tonight, I’m going to take care of my goalie.

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