Chapter 22
Goldie’s voice was still echoing in my ears when the second period started. The winner got to pick where she went on the date tomorrow night. But conveniently, she didn’t mention who she was going out with.
My guess was that the third-period winner was going to get that honor.
Which meant I needed to win both the second and the third period to make sure I got what I wanted.
A date.
With her.
Our first real one.
I needed it more than I had ever needed anything before. Like it would make it all real, to take her out in public and spend the evening with her on my arm. And I knew just where I wanted to take her.
Rhea smirked at me from across the ice, dimples deep in her cheeks and eyes burning with challenge and excitement. She wasn’t just fired up; she looked feral. Like winning that first round flipped some switch in her that refused to be ignored.
I should’ve been intimidated by the fire in her eyes.
God knows any sane man would’ve been.
Instead, I was hard.
The puck dropped, and I pushed off, low and fast, but Rhea hit me immediately, shoulder to chest full force, as she didn’t even try to go for the puck.
She did not need to hit me that hard.
I stumbled, caught myself, and chased after her as she raced away with the puck, passing it to someone on her team when she heard me closing in. “What the hell was that, Dalton?”
She cut around, facing me head-on against the edge of the ice with eyes full of mischief, “Play harder, Brooks.”
I barked out a laugh in shock, “I am.”
“Then catch me.” She said on her way past me, voice low, almost growling with demand and fuck, my body reacted instantly.
I skated after her, muscles burning and heart pounding.
She moved fast, chasing the puck, cutting tight corners, but I gained on her and knocked her stick wide when she went for a pass.
She growled in frustration, eyes wild as she glared at me, and I smirked with a shrug, skating away.
She crashed into me next, on purpose again. Her shoulder slammed into my ribs, breath puffing out of me, and for a second, we were tangled. Pads, gear, heat, friction. The contact, rough and aggressive, sent a bolt of desire straight through my gut.
I had never, not once in my life, been turned on by taking a hit.
But tonight? Taking her hits?
Rhea was rewiring my entire damn system.
She jammed her stick around mine, trying to pry the puck loose. I shoved back, rougher than I’d ever dared to be with a woman before, and bit back a growl when she gasped and hit me back harder. The way her body snapped forward and pushed right back into me, Jesus Christ.
I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it.
I wasn’t supposed to get harder every time she slammed into me. Especially not when we were fighting for Goldie in the end.
But damn.
Rhea swept the puck from me and darted down the ice. I chased her hard, adrenaline roaring in my ears. I caught up with her at the boards, pinning her between my body and the plexiglass, just like before. Her breath fogged against it instantly, and mine matched.
“You fighting me,” I muttered against her ear, “or flirting with me?”
“Same thing,” She shot back, shoving her ass against me to get out of the pin.
The way she wriggled her hips just enough made me groan. Loud.
I jerked back before I could do something stupid, like hump her big ass right there on the ice and stole the puck from her. I could barely think. My legs were working on instinct and muscle memory as my brain was lost somewhere in the throbbing heat between us.
Rhea tackled me from behind.
Literally.
Sprawling us both out on the ice. She laughed, low, wild, breathless, and that sound made everything inside me clench.
I’d always been gentle with women. Soft, patient, and careful. It was how I was raised. Physicality was something I saved for my older brothers, my teammates, or, in my younger years, the assholes at bars. But never—not like this.
Not with a woman who hit back.
Not with a woman who wanted me to be rough.
Not with a woman who looked at me like she was starving for the fight.
Goldie’s laugh echoed from the bench, bright and breathy as Rhea landed her elbow into my side, lying across me on the ice. God, I wanted to give Goldie a show to hear that noise again. I wanted to win just to see what she’d look like when I told her where I was taking her tomorrow night.
Flipping Rhea onto her back as my teammate skated down the ice with the puck, I leaned over her, a pause longer than was appropriate, and grinned. “I’m really going to enjoy watching you lose.”
Her lips parted in outrage as I shot up and tore off down the ice as she scrambled to get up. But it was too late.
I took the pass, skating around defenders as I got to the end and shot.
The puck sliced under the goalie's stick and went straight into the net.
The buzzer screamed, the end of another period. This time, though, I was the victor.
I exhaled hard, chest heaving, legs shaking as I took high fives from my team before everyone went off to the bench for a drink. Rhea skated toward me, eyes dark with everything we weren’t saying. And in that moment, I wanted her just as much as I wanted Goldie.
And I thought maybe, just maybe, she wanted me too. But the look on her face morphed as she turned and skated to Goldie at the side. Dropping my head, shame started burning in my gut just as fast as arousal had.
Fuck.
I swallowed my pride and my guilt, forcing my feet to skate over to where the girl I’d dreamed of for months now waited for us.
With one glance up at her when I got near, though, everything froze.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining as if she’d just watched the sexiest thing she’d ever seen as she nibbled on her bottom lip.
Rhea tipped her head back, squirting water into her mouth as she stood there, the loser for the round.
“Well,” Goldie asked, breathless. “Where am I going tomorrow?”
And holy hell, nothing in the world had ever felt more right.
I swallowed. Hard.
Moments ago, I couldn’t think of anything else besides finally getting her alone at the place I’d only heard about. But now, with Rhea watching, my cock still hard from the rough and tough game we were playing on the ice, I wasn’t sure it was right.
“Tanner?” Goldie asked, blinking as her smile fell. “Are you okay?”
My eyes flicked to Rhea, who was still silent on her other side, and Goldie followed my gaze to her.
Fuck.
“There’s this place,” I started, drawing her attention back as I scrubbed a gloved hand over the back of my neck. “A couple of the guys at the station were talking about it once. It’s in the city.”
Rhea’s dark eyes squinted slightly, interested. Like she could smell something filthy on the horizon.
“It’s a…” I paused and then went for it. “It’s a burlesque place. Dinner and a show.”
Goldie’s lips parted. Just the slightest bit, as if she couldn’t help herself.
I rushed on, like I was trying to convince her, when really, I was trying to convince myself.
“Dim lights, private booths, the whole place draped in velvet. The music is slow and sensual.” I licked my lips, throat tight.
“And the performers, the dancers, they lose more and more clothes with each course of dinner served.”
Goldie blinked at me slowly, and the hunger in her eyes hit me like a punch to the gut.
Rhea’s reaction wasn’t much different—her chest rising on a deep inhale, gaze dropping to my mouth, then lower, as if she knew damn well what describing all that had done to me.
I felt the shift in my body. A rush of heat. A throb I couldn’t hide under all my hockey gear if I tried.
“I never thought I’d go to a place like that,” I admitted honestly. “Let alone take a date there.”
Goldie stepped a little closer to my side, and her voice softened around the edges. “But you picked it for me?”
“I picked it because I thought you’d love it.” I said, the truth clear as day in my voice. “And because I want to see you in that kind of light.”
Her breath caught.
Rhea watched us both, something sharp and hungry flickering across her features.
And that—that—was when everything inside me settled. Strengthened. Tightened.
Because the third period wasn’t just about bragging rights. It wasn’t just the final round of our game. It wasn’t just another way to tease each other now. The winner of the third period got the date. The whole thing.
Goldie, all alone for hours, surrounded by sensuality and temptation.
And fuck. I wanted that.
I wanted that so badly.
I felt my jaw set, my pulse pounding, and the world narrowed to the feel of the ice under my blades along with the heat of Goldie’s gaze on my skin.
“I hope you’re both ready,” I said, voice dropping. “Because I’m not losing this.”
Goldie’s cheeks flushed darker, squirming just slightly on her feet, so that I knew she was clenching her thighs on her side of the boards. She didn’t need to be subtle, not with me, not with Rhea. God help me, I lived for her openness.
She tilted her head, a sweet, wicked smile curling at her lips. “Period three,” she said. “The final challenge. All or nothing.”
Rhea and I both straightened as the whistle blew behind us. We were hungry. We were competitive. But most of all, we were desperate for the same prize.
Goldie’s fingers grazed her bottom lip as she finalized the bet. “The winner gets to take me to the burlesque restaurant.”
My blood roared. I didn’t care how tired I was. I didn’t care how hard Rhea played. I didn’t care that my legs shook from the excitement.
I was going to win.
I needed to win.
Because no imaginary fantasy would beat the real-life experience of seeing Goldie sitting next to me in a velvet booth, dim lights framing her sweet curves, lingerie and champagne all around us, her hand sliding up my thigh as dancers moved around us.
For us.
I needed that night with her.
And I’d fight for it.
Harder than I’d ever fought for anything. Even against Rhea.