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Although we won tonight, we still have to beat them again next week where they have the home game advantage. And with the way they’ve played this season, there’s a chance we’ll meet them in the playoffs.
My pulse still races, the afterglow of victory clinging to my skin like sweat as we stride through the corridor. The Sabertooths’ win hangs heavy in the air, a triumph that’s personal, a slapshot straight to Jared Frank’s ego. Serves the fucker right.
Stepping out of the locker room, we’re met with a spectacle. True to tradition, the women who belong to players are waiting to congratulate us, their cheers another layer of warmth to wrap ourselves in. Wait, someone is missing…
“I don’t see her either,” Soren mumbles from next to me. “I thought she’d be with Lucia.” But as Sawyer and his wife draw attention with their very public display, it becomes clear that isn’t the case.
“Maybe she left?” I suggest.
“Was she even here?” Soren asks, and I shrug since I don’t know.
I haven’t talked with her since this morning where she said she was meeting up with Lucia and they were getting ready together. So I kinda figured she’d be here, but maybe… “Maybe she got sick,” I suggest. There’s no denying her morning sickness is anything but. It seems to hit at random times. “Or maybe something happened to her or Fet.” Sweat beads on my forehead as my thoughts immediately go to the worst-case scenario.
Before Soren can reply, someone pokes me on the shoulder and I turn around. “Simone,” I growl, looking at the woman I once thought the world of. “The fuck are you doing here?”
“Mickey,” she purrs, batting her eyelashes. “It’s so good to see you.”
I snort. “Can’t say I feel the same way.”
Turning my back on her, I go to say something to my teammates, but I’m interrupted when Simone moves around me, making it clear she won’t let me ignore her. “Can’t we talk?” she whines.
Has her voice always been that shrill? “No,” I snap.
As Simone opens her mouth, I sense movement out of the corner of my eye—a streak of black and white hair that’s all too familiar.
Gail.
She moves with unexpected assertiveness, her blue eyes locked on mine, and there’s a fire there I’ve only seen when she’s standing up for herself or Fet. Without acknowledging my ex, she uses her shoulder to push my ex out of the way. “Mickey, there you are.” Her voice rings out clear and decisive, completely ignoring a stunned Simone.
“Didn’t see you there,” I rasp. My eyes roam all over her body, and I can’t help the pride swirling in my chest as I take in her outfit.
She’s sporting a long-sleeved crop sweater emblazoned with mine and Soren’s player numbers; seven and twelve. The Sabertooths’ colors make the top stand out even more. It’s so short that when she reaches out for me, the underside of her tits teases just beneath the hem.
Paired with her sexy as fuck top are dark jeans that hug her curves in all the right places, and low enough to show off the very slight swell of her belly. The way they accentuate her ass is downright sinful. Her black and white hair cascades in loose curls, framing her face perfectly.
“Like what you see?” she purrs exaggeratedly, her deep red lips spread into a sly grin. “I wore this just for you.”
“Just for me?” I question, knowing damn well she’s putting on a show.
Gail throws her arms around my neck, which is much easier for her to do since her killer fuck-me stilettos make her look less small next to me. “Well, fifty percent for you,” she grins, looking briefly in Soren’s direction.
There’s something in her gaze, a fiery challenge mixed with a raw vulnerability that grips at my chest. Without another word, I cup her cheek, thumb brushing over the skin there as if trying to memorize the feel of her. Then, our lips meet—a collision of need and longing.
Gail immediately parts her lips, whimpering into my mouth as I slide my tongue against hers.
The kiss is a conflagration, igniting every nerve in my body. There’s nothing soft about it—it’s all-consuming, demanding, and so fucking addictive.
Before I can get too lost in the kiss, she’s pulled out of my arms, and Soren spins her to him, kissing her with the same fervor. I should probably care that we’re being so open, but since we’re still inside the arena, it’s only the players and their partners present. Oh, and maybe our Coach, PR team, and GM. But honestly, who gives a shit?
Needing more, I place my hands on Gail’s waist and spin her back to me. She goes willingly, and this time, it’s her tongue that invades my mouth. Her fingers twist into the fabric of my suit jacket, and her soft tits are pressed against my hard chest.
A throat clears behind us, and we break apart, but not before I catch the flash of desire in Gail’s eyes. It mirrors my own—the kind that burns slow and hot, promising more than just stolen moments in crowded hallways.
“Really, Mickey?” Simone’s voice cuts through the haze of my thoughts, dripping with contempt. “You’re making out with puck bunnies now.”
Damn, I’d kinda hoped the bitch would have scurried away and left me alone. Of course, I can’t be that fucking lucky.
Gail runs her fingers across my lips, showing me the smeared lipstick before she turns around. I wrap my arms around her naked middle, keeping her close as she squares her shoulders. “Just for the record, I’m not a damn puck bunny. But even if I were, what’s that got to do with you?” she sneers.
