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“He’s not going to like this,” I say, holding my hand up to the light so I can see my new ring. “But he’ll understand. Plus, I think you’ve grown on him, gorilla. Alright, where to now?”
“They’re planning you a surprise.”
“Ugh, I hate surprises.” But I love that they’d drown me in one anyway.
“Hence my warning, because my loyalties always lie with you first. I’m the distraction. How am I doing?”
“You’re very distracting,” I say, toying with a curl of hair by his nape. Fuck, I want him so badly. “Also, I want this.” I tug at the lapels of his mackinaw.
Quickly it becomes my mackinaw, even though it’s a thousand sizes too big. I cozy into the soft lambs wool interior as he closes it around me.
“I knew you’d want it. I bought a few.”
I get to admire his bulging muscles in that tight white T-shirt. This stunning man is mine, and I need him inside me now. I want to be as close as I can be to him. I want him to write his name on my insides with that large cock of his.
“I think I need a bit more distraction before we join them. If they have to wait a few minutes, it’ll serve them right for trying to surprise me.”
“The locker room should be empty now.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then you’ll have to be very quiet, won’t you, dear husband?”
Epilogue
Rhett
Another thing the gossipy internet likes to talk about is my friendship with Mitch. I’m sure there’s a fanfiction about us somewhere. If there is, I’m about to make it worse, but fuck the internet. Warm-up has just started, so I skate over to the Boston bench.
“Lose your phone, Elkington?” he says.
“Married life has me happily distracted. You should try it. Are you still sweet on watermelon Jolly Ranchers?”
“Nah. That’s done.” He glares at the Casey in his mind. I know him too well. Nothing’s done. They probably had another blow up about nothing. It’s a lot of them trying to make each other jealous until one of them caves.
“Guess that’s why he told Jack he’s interested in Otterhammer.” Henry Otterhammer is the goalie for the Vancouver Orcas.
“What the fuck? That little bitch.” The birchy sound of wood breaking, echoes off the ice, and Mitch Sutter’s stick is suddenly in two pieces.
Casey owes me one. I just secured him the best sex of his life next time they’re in the same town.
I look to the stands in time to wave at my gorgeous husband who’s just taking his seat, with baby Stanley strapped to his chest and his friend Kam carrying a diaper bag and their snacks. Stanley’s ears are covered with green earmuffs, and he looks to be sound asleep despite the roaring crowd—only a Meyer child. The internet doesn’t know what to make of Kam and Logan, but Logan loves to keep them guessing. Are they secretly dating? Do Logan and I have a secret love child he has to raise alone with me on the road? The theories are wild. But nothing’s as wild as the man dressed in a suit on the bench.
Mercy. Our new coach.
Eddie … left. Took a leave of absence. He recommended Merc for the job, so they pulled him up.
He waves something at Logan. Is that a pacifier? Yep. He tosses it over the plexiglass and Logan deftly catches it, slipping it into Stanley’s mouth.
Jack skids to a stop beside me, showering me with ice. “Stop staring at my man, Rhett. I know how good he looks in a suit and all, but, oh God, why did I go down that train of thought? Now all I can think of is him out of that suit. Kill me now.”
He groans, skating off.
Mercy won’t touch Jack during games. Barely goes near him. They’re no secret, but Mercy’s hoping to keep such a high-paying position, and he’s worried that if he displays any ounce of what might be considered unprofessionalism, they’ll can him. Instead, he bosses Jack around a lot more, which Jack loves a little too much. I’ve had to hear about it from Jack too many times. Never thought I’d get tired of hearing about his dick, but here I am.
The buzzer sounds, ending warm up, and I blow my husband a kiss—it’s become tradition.
The game’s cutthroat. It’s a party in the penalty box with how many of us are in there at any one time. Gloves and bottles are thrown between penalty boxes and officials have to stop us from climbing over to pound on each other.
