Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

Blake

T he thing no one tells you about finally giving in to something you’ve been resisting for too damn long?

It changes everything .

I'm checking my boarding pass when movement at the terminal entrance catches my eye. Time feels like it's swaying, slowing right the fuck down as Sophia glides through the sliding doors, her blonde hair catching the morning sunlight streaming through the windows.

She's wearing one of those power suits that make her curves irresistible. The suit is charcoal gray and perfectly tailored to hug every curve. Her heels click against the tile floor with each confident stride.

I can tell with a look at her sparkling hazel eyes: the woman knows exactly what she's doing to me.

But I know what's underneath. Know how she tastes, how she feels wrapped around me.

And I need it again, as bad as I need my next breath.

Yeah, I fucking hit that.

But this isn't just about the sex.

Not anymore.

It's in the way she challenges me, sees right through my bullshit. How she handled that interview with Jackson, protecting what matters while still getting her story and pleasing the board.

Fuck, even the way she drinks her coffee has me mesmerized.

She's walking straight toward me, the sway of her hips is pure sin in that suit. The knowing smirk playing at the corner of her mouth tells me she's counting every racing beat of my heart from across this terminal.

The team's already boarding - I can hear Logan and Coach Brody rough-housing somewhere behind me - but I can't take my eyes off her.

"Captain." Sophia lips curve into that smile that's been haunting my dreams ever since I had her bent over her desk two mornings ago. "Thought you might need this for the flight."

She hands me a coffee from Summit Café. It's black, exactly how I like it.

"First road trip, huh?"

"I know." She straightens my tie, her fingers lingering. "Guess Big Mike needed someone to make sure you didn't miss your flight."

The urge to kiss her right here, in front of everyone, hits me like a body check against the boards.

I've had plenty of women. One-night stands, casual flings, even tried the relationship thing once or twice. But Sophia? She's gotten under my skin, into my head. Making me want things I've never wanted before.

And that scares the shit out of me.

"Yo Blake!" Connor waves his hand in front of my face. "Flight's boarding."

Ryder whistles low and shakes his head at Sophia, tongue in cheek. "Can't believe Marketing's joining us on the road trip."

"Shut it, rookie."

By the time we step onto the plane, the guys are riding the high of our latest win, the usual pre-flight chaos buzzing around us.

The cabin fills with Logan's enormous laugh as Connor recounts last night's shenanigans in the Player's Lounge after practice. Ryder is busy tossing mini pretzels at the rookies and it's these moments, flying with my boys to another city, another game, that remind me why I fell in love with hockey in the first place.

Bags thump into overhead compartments, someone’s already raiding the snack bar, and Coach is harassing the flight attendant about the “urgent” need for extra protein in all our meals today.

Sophia, however, pauses at the entrance, sweeping her gaze over the interior like she’s stepped into some billionaire’s penthouse instead of our regular team transport.

“This is ridiculous.” Her long, dark lashes flick over the plush leather seats, the glossy wood-paneled bar stocked with top-shelf liquor, and the oversized, personalized menu cards placed on every seat. “You guys travel like this all the time?”

I smirk, tossing my bag into my usual seat at the back of the plane. “What, you thought we flew economy?”

She shoots me a look. “I just assumed it was… I don’t know. More normal. This is like a five-star restaurant on wings.”

I gesture to the empty leather seat next to mine, my eyes locking with Sophia's in a way that leaves no room for argument.

"You'll sit with me."

Her cheeks flush pink at my silent command, but she walks toward me anyway. Good girl .

The sway of her hips draw more than a few appreciative glances from my teammates that I quickly shut down with a sharp glare.

She slides into her seat, still looking around like the luxury might slap her across the face if she stares too long. The headrest has a small embroidered Icehawks logo, and a thick blanket is folded neatly on each seat. She runs her fingers over it like she’s half-impressed, half-annoyed at how unreasonably comfortable everything looks.

But then, her eyes catch on the menu.

Her name is printed right at the top in elegant script, beneath the Icehawks logo.

"It's your menu," I tell her, answering the question on those luscious lips before she can form it.

"A personalized menu?" She cocks a brow, lifting the menu and flipping through it. "Oh my god. Do you guys seriously have meals named after you?"

I lean back, stretching my legs out. "Would you prefer we number them like Mr. Chen's on Main Street?"

"Please tell me you have a dish named after you…"

I take my own menu from the pocket, flipping through it as if I haven't already memorized it after years of traveling.

I flip to page three, tapping my finger against the glossy paper. "Here. Blake's Steakhouse Special. Best burger you'll get ten-thousand feet up in the air."

She lets out a soft gasp of mock horror. “You named a steak after yourself?”

I grin. “Not my choice. The guys voted.”

Sophia purses her lips, still looking at the menu like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. "I bet it's just a really big steak, isn't it?"

I lift a brow. “Jealous?”

Her scoff is instant. “No.” She flips a page dramatically, clearly taking the mickey out of my moment of pure self-indulgence. “ Oh my god, there's a signature cocktail named after me!"

Before I can answer, Natalie appears out of nowhere, sliding into the seat across from us, drink in hand, gleefully eavesdropping.

"Oh, please. Don't stop the flirting on my account." Natalie kicks her feet up on the empty seat beside her. "Though I should remind you both that I'm here to work, not referee your mile-high shenanigans."

"Shouldn't you be taping ankles or something?" I shift in my seat, angling my body between her and Sophia.

Natalie's dressed in her Icehawks-branded compression shirt and the yoga pants emblazoned with the logo across her thigh. Her hair's pulled back in that practical ponytail she always wears during game prep.

Natalie ignores her and flips through Sophia’s menu. “Oooh, Spicy Sophia Margarita. Extra heat.”

Sophia’s mouth parts. “Excuse me?!”

Natalie grins. “I might have put in a request.”

Sophia slaps my chest, hard , then waggles her brows at me. "See! I do have something named after me." She glances to Natalie and winks. "Thanks, babe."

I stretch my legs as the plane lifts off, watching her out of the corner of my eye, trying and failing not to stare.

She’s gorgeous. Always is.

There’s something different about her today. Maybe it's the viral video? Maybe that's given her a boost of confidence?

Or maybe, just maybe, it's because she enjoyed the feel of my hand coming down on her sweet, plump ass?

Sophia and Natalie chatter about team dynamics as Coach Brody drops into the seat beside Natalie, and we start chatting about the challenge of facing Chicago, the most in-form team in the league.

The flight attendant brings our drinks - my usual ice-cold water and that ridiculous margarita Natalie conspired to name after Sophia.

"Water?" Sophia frowns at my selection like it personally offends her.

I shrug. "I've got a game tomorrow. Save the whiskey for the flight home."

Sophia picks up her drink and smiles, those hazel eyes fixed on me as she takes a slow sip. Her head tilts, and I basically see the boredom starting to take hold.

"So, if I beat you at something, do I get a dish named after me?"

I can't help the laugh that escapes. "You really think you can beat me at something?"

Her lips curve into that dangerous smile that's been driving me crazy since she first walked into my rink. She reaches into her designer bag and pulls out a worn deck of cards.

"Lucky for you, we're about to find out. I brought my travel deck."

The cards look well-loved, edges softened from countless games. Something about that detail - our polished marketing executive carrying around a beat-up deck of cards - catches me off guard. Just when I think I have her figured out, she throws me another curveball.

I watch Sophia shuffle the cards.

"So… what's your game, sweetheart?"

"Poker." She deals with a flourish then takes a sip of her drink. "What do you say… Loser has to carry the winner's bags for the rest of the trip?"

I lean back, stretching my arm across the back of her seat, my fingers ever so gently grazing her shoulder. Just a light touch. Barely noticeable.

Except she notices.

I see it in the way she breathes just a little deeper, the way her tongue swipes over her bottom lip again.

"Sweetheart, I can barely let you carry your own coffee, let alone my bags."

Her eyes narrow, and that competitive fire I’ve come to love ignites behind those hazel eyes. "Big talk for a man who's about to get wiped off the table."

I drop my voice low, just for her ears. "Baby… Come on… Wipe me off later. Not now."

She chokes on her margarita, sputtering as she tries to recover.

As we play, I can't help but notice Coach Brody with Natalie. He keeps finding excuses to touch her shoulder or lean in close to whisper something that makes her giggle. Their heads bend together over shared jokes I can't hear.

Sophia snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Yoohoo!" She catches my smirk and follows my eyes to her friend and my coach. "Eyes on your own game, mister. I mean, your own cards. Though from the way you're playing, you might want to stick to hockey."

"Just giving you false confidence, sweetheart."

"Oh really?" Sophia catches her lower lip between her teeth, trying to hide her smile as she lays down a straight flush. Again. "Then explain how I just won my fifth hand in a row? Read 'em and weep, Captain."

I lean in close, close enough to catch the citrus scent of her shampoo. "You know what they say about beginner's luck..."

"Beginner?" I watch as she lifts that eyebrow in a way that somehow manages to be both judgy and sexy as hell. "I'll have you know I paid for an entire semester of college playing poker."

"Now that's a story I need to hear."

"Win a hand first," she teases, already shuffling the deck with practiced ease. "Then maybe I'll tell you all about my misspent youth."

But we're both suddenly distracted by Natalie and Coach Brody rising from their seats. They walk toward the back of the plane together, and Sophia nudges me with her elbow.

"So... you think those two are secretly banging?"

I snort, gathering up the cards. "If they aren't, they're about five seconds away from it."

"My money's on them hooking up before we land in Chicago." Sophia shuffles again, her fingers dancing over the cards.

"Well, I'm not about to bet against a woman who apparently funded her higher education through an underground poker empire. Though I've gotta say, the image of you running a college cartel while wearing designer heels? That's doing things to me, sweetheart."

Sophia giggles and leans against me, her body warm and soft, lulled by the margarita and the cabin's cozy air.

With the blanket draped over our laps, I brush my knuckles over her thigh, a subtle touch that could be innocent if not for the heat simmering between us. When she drops the cards and shifts in closer, my hand tightens, gripping the inside of her thigh, ever so close to the heat of her core.

Her breath hitches, almost imperceptibly, but I'm tuned into every tiny reaction she has.

"I've missed you," I whisper deeply, leaning in to inhale the scent of pure lust.

"Me too," Sophia whispers, eyes starting to glaze over as my hand works closer to her center.

My fingers trace upward, pushing beneath the blanket that covers our laps. It's a risk, but the thrill of it sends a jolt of excitement through me. Through her, too.

"Blake," she whispers, her eyes darting around nervously. "We can't do this here."

"Shh, sweetheart. Just relax," I murmur, my voice low and steady. I want her to trust me, to let go and feel this with me.

My fingers tease the edge of her panties, feeling the lace beneath her pants. She squirms slightly, caught between desire and caution.

"People will see," she whispers again, her voice laced with a mix of fear and excitement as I move my fingers over her clit.

"Not if you keep quiet," I reply, my voice a low rumble in her ear.

It's a challenge, and I know she won't back down.

I know it because he ass just shifted in the seat. She moves herself closer, her breathing heavy as the dimmed lights of the cabin set the ambience.

Diving inside her pants, I push aside her panties, finding her already soaked. My fingers slide inside her pussy, slow and deep, drawing out a soft gasp from her.

" Blake …"

It's a breathless whisper, a silent moan.

Her nails sink into my thigh, a silent plea for more as I push my fingers deeper, curling them until I hit that hard bump that I've been searching for.

I lean in, my mouth brushing against her ear. "You’re already dripping, baby. You want to come like this?"

My finger rubs against her g-spot, circling, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Slow, but firm, my fingers bring her closer to the edge.

The plane hums around us, the sound of the engines covering the wet sounds of my fingers pumping inside my girl. Her body tenses, her orgasm building with every stroke.

"That's it. Be a good girl and come for me, sweetheart," I whisper, my voice pure sin. "Come right here where everyone can see you."

She clenches around my fingers, biting back a scream as her whole body shakes in her seat.

Sophia's face contorts in the sexiest struggle I've ever seen.

She bites her lip, stifling a moan as her orgasm rips through her. Her silence is pure torture, making my cock throb with need. Her sexy eyes meet mine, a silent scream echoing between us.

It's agony.

It's ecstasy.

It's the hottest damn thing I've ever witnessed.

She comes down from the high and I smirk, lifting my hand to my mouth and licking my fingers clean.

"Good girl."

I lean in, drawn to Sophia's flushed face and parted lips. The taste of her sweetness lingering on my tongue isn't enough.

I need to kiss her, to claim that sweet mouth.

But then, Natalie stumbles back up the aisle, followed by Coach Brody. Both freeze when they spot us, eyes like two fucking deer in the headlights.

Natalie's neat ponytail is half-undone, wisps of hair framing her face. Brody's tie hangs loose, his collar rumpled.

They look like they've been running laps. In a fucking airplane bathroom.

Sophia's eyes widen as she takes in their disheveled state. She leans close, her breath tickling my ear. "Oh my god, did they...?"

I can't hold back my smirk. "Told you they were five seconds away from it."

Sophia tilts her head, considering them for half a second before casually pretending to check her watch. She turns to me with a completely deadpan expression.

"Huh. Ten minutes. Respectable. Thought he’d last less."

I bark out a laugh, shaking my head.

"Sweetheart, you wouldn’t know what a quickie is if it slapped you on the ass. Took you half the night just to admit you wanted me."

Sophia’s eyes narrow, then - without warning - she grabs one of the peanuts from her drink napkin and chucks it straight at my head.

Natalie, meanwhile, is still desperately flattening her ponytail, cheeks flaming red. Brody won’t meet anyone’s eyes as he slides into his seat, suddenly very fascinated by his phone as the plane starts its descent into Chicago.

I bite back another laugh, watching as the guy who preaches discipline and patience on the ice just spent ten minutes wrecking our team therapist in an airplane bathroom.

Hell, Brody thinks five minutes in the penalty box is a lifetime? But suddenly, he’s fine with a full double minor of midair, Mile High sex?

Sophia lifts her drink, hiding her own post-orgasm glow behind the rim. Her thighs press together beneath the blanket where my hand remains locked between her clenched legs.

The plane reaches the final moments of its descent, the seat belt sign pinging overhead. I shift in my seat, adjusting myself discreetly.

The thought of having Sophia all to myself in Chicago has my body humming.

Natalie clears her throat. "So... good flight everyone?"

Sophia chokes on her drink.

I pat her back, fighting back a laugh. "Yeah, you could say that."

Now all I'm thinking is, I can't wait to get my girl to the hotel.