32. Chapter Thirty-Two #2
Does a double-take so obvious that Graham actually laughs.
Kevin skates closer to the glass, stops directly in front of me.
His eyes travel from my face down to the jersey, back up again.
He points his stick at the glass and mouths one word.
Mine.
I nod.
His grin is absolutely feral.
We're both in trouble. Promise kept… and the game hasn't even started.
Then Liam skates by, sees me, and nearly falls over laughing. He circles back, taps Kevin's shoulder, points at me.
"Sunshine! Your girl got some new gear!"
The entire group turns to look.
Aiden raises his gloves and gives me a slow clap while Graham nods approvingly.
Kevin's still staring at me through the glass. There's heat in his eyes that has absolutely nothing to do with hockey.
"You're in trouble," Diane says, unknowingly echoing my thoughts.
"So I've been told."
"Good trouble though."
"The best trouble."
Kevin finally skates away, but not before pointing at me one more time. Mine.
Yeah. I am.
The game is brutal and beautiful.
New York’s fast, physical. But Kevin's playing possessed.
Every shift, he's aggressive. Throwing hits, blocking shots, making plays that have the crowd on their feet.
And every time he's on the bench, he glances at me.
As though he can see right through me to the name on my back.
"Sunshine's distracted," Liam announces near the bench at one point, loudly enough for me to hear between whistles. "Wonder why."
Tyler literally points and waves at me. Thanks, Captain Obvious.
Diane's recording everything for Ranger's Instagram, but I catch her filming Kevin's reactions too.
The Stampede win, 4-2. Kevin gets two assists, one of them during a power play, on a setup so pretty that the replay shows it three times.
After the final horn, the team celebrates on the ice. Diane and Ranger and I have a celly of our own. Before heading back to the tunnel, Kevin skates directly to our section and taps the glass where I'm standing.
I press my hand to the glass. He presses his glove to match.
The cameras catch it and flash it up on the Jumbotron.
Cinderella left the glass slipper behind. Rookie mistake.
I'm keeping the jersey.
This isn't a fairy tale. Kevin St. Clair loves me. Just claimed me in front of twelve thousand people and one dog.
This is real.
It feels like Kevin takes forever in the locker room. Of course I know he's not. Media availability. Shower. Whatever post-game routine the guys do.
I wait in the family lounge with Diane and Ranger, scrolling my phone, trying not to think about the way Kevin looked at me through the glass.
Mine.
The word practically burned through the barrier between us. I felt it everywhere — in my chest, low in my belly, between my thighs.
I can still see the look in his eyes. Like he couldn't wait to peel this jersey off me.
He's going to wreck me tonight. And I'm going to let him.
I'm gonna be in the best kind of trouble later.
He promised. I plan to see to it that he delivers.
Finally, he appears in the doorway. He’s wearing his game day suit, eyes searching until they find me.
"Hey."
I hope I’m not too obvious to everyone else in here as I stand. "Good game."
"Can't take credit. Had some extra motivation tonight." His hand finds my waist, thumb rubbing over the jersey fabric. "You ready to go?"
Diane waves us off. "You kids have fun. I've decided Ranger and I are having a sleepover. You can get him at the rescue in the morning, Sarah."
Kevin forgets to tell Ranger goodbye. Just takes my hand and pulls me toward the parking garage.
"See something you like?" I ask.
"You have no idea. We're leaving your car here. You can pick it up when I come in for morning skate."
The drive to his place takes forever and no time at all. His hand stays on my thigh the entire way. I can feel the heat through the thick jersey fabric and my jeans.
We make it to his door.
He gets it unlocked quickly.
We're inside.
The second the door closes, he backs me against it. And then his hands are everywhere, and his mouth is hot on my neck.
"Do you know what you did to me tonight?"
"I wore your jersey."
"No." He pulls back, eyes dark. "I've fucked you in my jersey before. That was just us. Private. This?" His hands slide over the fabric. "You wore my name in front of everyone. In front of the team. In front of twelve thousand people. You told the whole fucking arena you were mine."
My lungs fill with more of a gasp than a breath as I struggle to get anything coherent out. "Yeah. I did."
"Why?"
The question's quiet. He knows the answer, but I can tell he wants to hear me say it.
"Because I wanted everyone to know I'm yours."
He kisses me like I know he's been dying to all night. Hard and deep. Possessive.
"Can't make it to the bedroom." His hands find my jeans, work the button and zipper. "This happens now. I need you right here."
"Then keep your promise."
He presses me against the door. Works my jeans and underwear down my hips, just enough.
"Keep the jersey on."
"Wasn't planning on taking it off."
His hand slides between my legs, fingers finding me already wet. The other grips my hip, holding me against the door.
"Fuck, Sarah. You're soaked."
"Your fault."
He strokes me once, twice, and I'm already close to losing it.
"Not gonna last like this," he mutters against my shoulder blade. "I need to see my name on you properly."
I stretch my neck to the side, letting him kiss all down my neck, feeling the adrenaline inside surge in waves with each touch.
"I told you that you were mine tonight. I meant it." He picks me up — literally picks me up — and carries me the few steps to the couch. "I need more room for what I want to do to you."
He lays me down, pulls my jeans and underwear the rest of the way off. The jersey stays on.
"Better?"
"You wore my sweater to my game in my barn and expected me to be normal about it?" He's already stripping out of his clothes. "Not happening, baby."
When he's naked, he runs his hands up my calves, my thighs.
"Hands and knees," he says, leaving no room for questions. "I want to see my name while I fuck you."
Holy shit, that's hot. Taking orders from him makes all this pooled heat in my body explode like a wildfire.
Don't tempt me with a good time, I'd teased him over text while I was standing in the store, buying the jersey.
Well, here we are.
Tempted. Very, very tempted to be whatever he wants from me tonight.
I flip over. Get on my hands and knees.
"Perfect." His hands slide over the fabric, tracing the letters. "Everyone saw this tonight. The boys knew. The fans knew. Everybody."
He pushes into me in one stroke. Deeper this time. The angle makes me gasp.
One hand grips my hip hard enough to leave marks. The other reaches around and up under the fabric, pushing aside my bra, cupping my breast. When he pinches my nipple, I nearly come apart.
"Kevin— Fuck—"
"Not yet." He starts moving. Deep, hard strokes that have the jersey sliding against my skin with each thrust.
"Harder," I gasp. "Kevin, I want to still feel you tomorrow."
He groans and complies, fingers digging into my hip.
"I love you," he says against my shoulder blade, right over the R in his name.
"I love you too."
He moves. The fast, chaotic, deep strokes have me gasping.
"You feel so good." His voice still leaves no room for doubt. He’s not holding back — on the honesty or the possessiveness. "So fucking perfect."
I'm close. Impossibly close. It's taken absolutely no time to get me right to the edge. Maybe it's because I've been thinking about this since four-thirty, about him, about claiming him so he could claim me.
"Kevin— Ummm— Aaah— Fuuuck—" I’ve lost all the ability to have a conversation. Or even form complete words, much less sentences.
He nods, understanding. We’re in sync.
Mind and heart and body.
We finish together. Holding tight. Breathing hard.
I collapse forward, head dropping on the couch. He follows, carefully pulling out, gathering me back against his chest, sinking down to the floor.
We stay like that. Heartbeats slowing.
His hand traces patterns on my back. Over the jersey. Over where his name is.
"Liam asked if we're registered at the team store."
I laugh, breathless, still feeling the glow all the way down in my toes. "What'd you tell him?"