12. Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Warlock
On the night of the game, Patty, Gloria, Tallahassee, and not surprisingly, Ricochet, are all proudly wearing Nash’s number nineteen jersey with McQueen emblazoned across the back.
The eleven of us convoy the two hours to L.A. in three vehicles. I’m driving my dad, Cynthia, and Tallahassee.
When we arrive, we find our seats and file into our row. Tallahassee ends up sitting between me and Ricochet. Our seats couldn’t be better. They’re center ice, right on the glass.
I’m not a huge sports fan. This is going to be my first hockey game.
If anyone asked me, I wouldn’t be able to tell them the difference between the blue line and a headline.
But I know from Tallahassee and Ricochet that the team is on track to win the Stanley Cup, and Nash is having a stellar season.
When the team skates out onto the ice, the stadium explodes. Thousands of cheering fans jump to their feet. The noise echoing off the walls is deafening.
As the team skates past us during warmup, they all smile and several blow kisses at Tallahassee.
I don’t like it.
I grit my teeth and try to rein in my anger when an overwhelming surge of something, both protective and possessive, races through my blood.
I know it’s territorial makes me a neanderthal, but I still want to step in front of her and block her from their view.
I want to maim any man who looks at her or dares to touch her.
Except that would be insane. I shake off the urge to go that far.
Instead, shifting closer until our shoulders touch.
A silent message that I’m claiming her. Making sure they all understand she’s mine.
It’s unhinged to think of her that way, but I’m relieved when she doesn’t pull away or question me about what the hell I’m doing.
Because honestly, I’m not sure I could give her a rational explanation.
Some of the players stop and call out, “Mamas!” to Tallahassee’s parents. When Nash skates by, he grins when he notices all of us.
“Holy shit, that’s Gunther Kapinski,” Ricochet announces excitedly. “He’s the best goalie in the league.” He points across the ice. “And there’s Mic Chevalier! Oh, sweet mother of pearl, it’s Theo Tremmel.” He turns toward Tallahassee. “This might actually kill me.”
Tallahassee tries to control her amusement while she consoles him with a pat on the back. “Just keep breathing. You’ll be okay.”
Tallahassee, Patty, and Gloria stand, pressing their palms against the glass. When Nash skates by, he high-fives them from his side of the glass. Obviously, it’s not the first time they’ve performed this ritual.
Now recovered from being star-struck, Ricochet jumps to his feet to mimic them.
On his next pass, Nash smiles and briefly presses his gloved hand against the glass over Ricochet’s.
While Nash isn’t being obvious, Ricochet isn’t being subtle about his attraction.
I’ve seen him with men in the past, but I’ve never seen him as smitten as he is with Nash.
I know Tallahassee sees it too when she catches my eye, grins, and cocks an amused eyebrow. The urge to pull her against me and wrap her in my arms is strong. But I manage to suppress the impulse and instead bump my shoulder against hers with a wink and a chuckle.
Despite not understanding all the rules, the game is exciting. I’m fascinated by the speeds they maintain and impressed by their footwork. It’s amazing what they’re able to do while skating on a thin blade.
During the second intermission, the kiss cam sweeps through the crowd. When it lands on my dad and Cynthia, he kisses her. It’s chaste but lingering. Still, it takes me by surprise. Smiling, I share a look with Tallahassee.
Patty leans forward, peering past Ricochet and Tallahassee, and gives me a knowing grin. “Told you so.”
My amused laugh is spontaneous. Just then, the kiss cam shifts to me and Tallahassee, and we fill the arena’s giant screen.
I thought for sure she’d hide or wave it off, but when I turn her way and she smiles at me, I take it as permission.
I lean in and press my lips to hers. Our first kiss.
My first exquisite taste of her. My intention is to keep it feather light.
Gentle. Cautious. A kiss that’s scarcely more than a graze of our lips.
But a fire ignites in my blood the instant her soft lips brush against mine.
I can’t deny it feels right. Like I’ve been wandering for years and finally found my way home.
But I also feel her vulnerability, and I won’t take more than she’s ready to give. She’s had more than enough heartache.
When she feels me start to pull away, she cradles my face in her palms to prevent my retreat. She starts kissing me—really kissing me—and I’m a goner. My fingers curl around the back of her neck. It’s a kiss of pure, primal possession. When her demanding tongue tangles with mine, she moans.
She fucking moans.
The sound nearly undoes me. My dick stirs to life and throbs in response.
My grip on the nape of her neck tightens reflexively. Her mouth is decadent, her desire glaringly apparent. I’ve been longing for this, knowing once we came together it’d be worth the wait. But the reality is so much more than anything I imagined. It’s a fiery collision. Together, we smolder.
I slowly break the kiss and ease away. Staring into each other’s eyes, the desire on her face makes my cock twitch and my balls tingle. But it’s her sultry smile that wrecks me. It feels like an invisible hand is squeezing my heart. My thumb caresses the contour of her cheek, her gaze holding mine.
Then reality comes rushing back. The kiss cam. Our family and friends grinning at us like loons. The entire stadium witnessing our intimate moment, responding with whistles and cheers.
Tallahassee’s cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink, and she hides her face in the crook of my neck. But I can feel her smiling. I hold her, breathing in her enchanting scent and savoring the feel of her against me.
A grin of satisfaction tugs the corners of my lips. I want to beat my chest like a caveman. She chose me. It’s me she kissed. My arms she’s wrapped up in.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the morning I met you in the coffee shop,” I whisper in her ear.
Ignoring the amused expressions from the rest of our crew, we relax back in our seats and the eleven of us enjoy the rest of the game. But the memory of that kiss lingers, not only in my mind, but on my lips.
Despite a couple of brawls and several close calls, we cheer Nash and the rest of the Reapers to another win.
Later, back at Nash’s, I help Tallahassee out of the car and walk her to the door.
I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Go out on a date with me.”
She worries her bottom lip, indecision flickering across her face.
“One date,” I say quietly. “What have you got to lose?”
Her face runs through a series of emotions, finally settling on acceptance. With a shy smile, she tells me, “Okay. I think I’d like that.”
Relief and excitement surge through me. “I’ll pick you up at six on Saturday,” I tell her, not wanting to give her the chance to change her mind.
For the first time, I’m beginning to imagine a future with a woman. She’s become an addiction I’ve got no intention of kicking. I’m determined to do whatever it takes to gain her trust, because I can no longer imagine letting her go.