Page 122 of Slapshot Bride

“Can you do something for me, though?”

I stare on.

“If you decide to wear it, take a picture for me? So I can look at it after the game, or maybe before the game?”

His palms slide around my waist, and he pulls me even closer. His lips trail my cheek to my ear.

“Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

A shiver travels down my spine.

“Hmm?”

He steps away. I nod

“Good girl,” he winks.

Then he heads to the kitchen and starts on dinner like he hasn’t just rewired my entire body to need him.

I stand in the hallway holding the jersey with his name on the back and his number on the front. I press the jersey against my chest.

It flutters, and I know I can’t deny it anymore.

I want him. All of him.

This… this was never part of the plan.

I stand there in the hallway for another minute.

I go to hang the jersey on the back of the bedroom door, and I return to the kitchen. I see him in full chef mode. He’s not typically a chef, but he can hold his end, and it’s good enough for me.

But my eyes are somewhere else.

Lost on his body. The way his biceps move… his back, the line of tattoos scattered along his arms…

“See something you like?” he growls, and I’m caught off guard. My cheeks heat up, and I walk into the kitchen to stand beside him.

“Want to help.”

“Not tonight, baby. Sit that pretty ass down and let me feed you, okay?”

The way he says the words, coupled with the look he’s giving me…

It’s too much. It makes my stomach coil so tightly that all I can do is nod for fear that I might shamelessly moan if I try to speak.

So, I sit and get a front-row view of this private show that’s Easton Blake in the kitchen.

All mine.

25

EASTON

The Snake in the Locker Room

The last practice before an away game is everyone’s favorite.

We all dial in a little tighter than usual, running the sets cleaner with no wasted movement. Coach Brennan stays on our heels, as always, and I'm glad for it. My body knows the difference between tired and ready, and right now, it's the second one.