Meet Your Match (Kings of the Ice, #1)(87)

“It’s already yours,” she said, climbing me, crushing me to her. “Please, don’t break it.”

“Never,” I promised.

I kissed her again to another chorus of whistles and cheers from the crowd, both of us inhaling the other and holding on for dear life. I could have stayed there forever.

But there were still three minutes left to play.

“NOW, FORTY-ONE,” Coach said, and the sternness in his voice told me that — hat trick or not — my ass was going to be grass if I didn’t comply.

“Go,” Maven told me, pushing against my chest.

“That was for you, by the way,” I said, pulling the hat off my head and tugging it down on hers again. I backed up with a wink as she shook her head at me, and then someone handed me my helmet and my stick, and I joined my teammates on the bench just in time for the puck to drop.

Coach stared at me like he was going to end my life, but then he smirked, shaking his head before folding his arms over his chest as he turned his attention to the ice. I knew I’d be paying for my stunt, but every drill, every lap, every minute of pain would be worth it.

My knees bounced, eyes on the ice but focus completely obliterated now. I just needed my team to hold for a few more minutes. I needed this game to be over.

I needed Maven back in my arms, in my bed.

Coach called for a line change with sixty seconds left, just as our opponents pulled their goalie. It was all hands on deck to defend against them. Will batted every shot attempt away, and the rest of us served as a first and second line of defense, doing everything we could to hold the score.

And we did.

They tried with their last shred of desperation to hit us at the final buzzer, but Daddy P dropped his knees together and covered the puck with his glove.

And that was it.

We won.

I swept Maven back into my arms the moment the final buzzer sounded.





Kaleidoscope



Maven



I could stare at that man’s hands for the rest of my life, and it would still not be long enough.

Those hands, the ones that scored three goals tonight, the ones that held me to him in a crowd of twenty-thousand people, the ones that turned clay into art, that transformed me from hard and guarded to soft and surrendering — they were a drug.

And right now, those hands were holding a photo of me and Livia after her graduation from dental school, his thumb smoothing over the glass as a wide smile spread on his lips.

“I bet you two were hell on wheels,” he said.

“Still are.”

He chuckled, his head bobbing side to side like he knew that all too well. When he set the photograph down, he tucked his hands into his pockets and kept walking, taking in the surroundings.

It was the first time I’d had him in my home, and it felt almost more intimate than when I had him inside me. I stood at the door with my keys clutched in my hands, nervously fidgeting with the rings as I watched him.

My phone was in my pocket, buzzing like crazy with notifications I wasn’t sure I’d want to see. After what happened at the arena, I could only imagine how we were blowing up. Strangers had been making assumptions about us for months, ever since that night Vince posted the photo of us in Baltimore. Now, they had those assumptions proven right.

The only texts I’d read were the ones from my parents, Livia, and my bosses.

Mom was excited, though still a bit wary — which was fair, all things considered.

Dad was demanding a full background check and a one-on-one talk with Vince. Poor guy.

Livia popped a bottle of champagne and sent me a video of her sipping the bubblies in my honor.

And Reya and Camilla sent so many emojis, my phone nearly broke trying to process them all. They were excited, to say the least, and the last text I saw from Camilla stated that Vince and I were all over the Internet.

I decided that, at least for tonight, I just wanted it to be us.

So, I pulled my phone from my pocket and powered it down completely before turning my attention back to Vince.

He was quiet as he studied the surroundings, studied me. He paced my living and dining area before disappearing down the hall, and I followed him back to my bedroom, where his smile doubled. He ran his fingertips over one of the crocheted plant holders I’d made, brushing the leaves of the pothos before he moved over to the bed. He flopped down onto it, the mattress bouncing with his weight as he inhaled a deep breath.

“God, everything smells like you.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” I said, finally relinquishing my hold on the keys. I placed them on top of my dresser and carefully sat on the corner of the bed.

Vince was sprawled out like a starfish. He crooked a grin at where I sat with an arched brow. “Scared I’ll bite?”

“Maybe.”

I couldn’t explain it, but I was nervous — as if I hadn’t been in a bed with Vince dozens of times before this. My heart was racing, my breaths shallow, head light.

As if he could sense it, he snagged me by the wrists and tugged me into the middle of the bed with him. His legs wrapped around me, his arms holding me to his chest until I was completely enveloped and laughing, the nerves dissipating.

“You love when I bite,” he murmured in my ear, and chills raced from where his breath touched my skin all the way down to my toes.