“Well, I think I might like my desert playing hockey player.”

“Enough to have him for dessert?” I leaned in and brushed my nose down hers until I was at her mouth. Her hand on my chest held me back. Not that I couldn’t overtake her, but I wouldn’t.

The corners of her lips curled up. “I guess that depends on how well you play tonight.”

“Smart ass.” I smacked her ass as she climbed into the car, and once I rounded the back of it, Alix was there, smirking at me.

“Still pretend and temporary, huh?”

Of course he had to see that.

“And if it isn’t?”

His blond brows tugged together. “Then I am happy for you. What else would I be?”

Who knew.

Who fucking knew.

Because only God knew what I was feeling… but it felt a lot like happiness.

And I’d done and screwed the pooch on that one really well before.

Let’s just hope I didn’t end up doing the same this time.

Twenty-Seven

Emmersyn

Kane’s garage door sounded through the house and I turned off the post-game show. One thing I’d learned in the last two weeks since the real season started was once he walked in that door after a game, he didn’t want anything to do with hockey or sports.

For as much as he said they’d worried about the team this year with new players and the loss of Max, they hadn’t yet lost a regular season game.

I stood from the couch once I heard him enter the laundry room. He’d drop his gear, strip out of his suit and change into sweats or swim trunks and soak in the hot tub. His routine post games was as organized and predictable as I was learning the rest of him was.

“Good game,” I called out when he came into view. “And that tripping call the ref called was complete and utter bullshit.” Thanks to his lessons and some of the wives, I was starting to know what I was talking about.

He smiled as he saw me standing with my ass to the back of his sectional couch, arms wrapped around myself. His smile vanished and something much more feral took its place.

I’d pat myself on the back, but it’d mean losing the way I’d intentionally stood, showing off my brand new, hot pink bikini. A thong bikini he hadn’t yet seen.

“Turn around,” he said, and a shiver rolled down my spine. “Slowly.”

I did what he asked—more demanded, and as soon as he saw my ass, his inhale was quick and severe. From the reflection in the glass doors, he tore off his jacket and tossed it to the floor. His tie followed.

“Do you know what I need?”

I turned back and faced him. His brown eyes darkened, and like every other time he got that look in his eyes, my stomach knotted with anticipation.

“What?” I slid to the left, away from him. Not from fear. It thrilled me when he stalked toward me, all that muscled body and intense gleam centered on me. Especially after a game. Any leftover energy or adrenaline turned from focus on the ice to me.