Page 18

Chapter Eighteen

Sophia

I step into the gleaming lobby of Chicago's most luxurious hotel, still buzzing from the cocktails on the plane and Blake's wandering hands under that blanket.

The crystal chandeliers have rainbow prisms shining across marble floors, and a champagne cart passing by beckons like a mirage.

Natalie and I snag a flute each before someone can stop us, and we tap our crystal glasses in celebration, laughing like carefree schoolgirls on their first overnight trip.

"Welcome to the Waldorf, gentlemen... and ladies." The concierge's smile could power the city grid. "Your rooms are ready."

Logan dumps his gear bag with a thud that echoes through the lobby. "Tell me there's a steak house within crawling distance."

"Three, actually." The concierge hands Coach Brody a stack of key cards. "And our spa offers a sports massage package specifically designed for—"

"Dibs!" Connor shouts, already pulling up the spa menu on his phone.

Natalie shrugs beside me. "Huh. Makes my life as the team physio easier."

I drift toward the roster posted by the elevators, scanning for my room assignment plastered beneath the Icehawks logo.

The champagne turns sour in my stomach when I spot my name.

Room 1542: Sophia Hart & Timothy Riley (PR)

"There has to be a mistake."

I blink hard, but the words before my eyes don't change.

"Problem?" Blake materializes behind me, a red sports drink in his hand, his breath warm against my neck as he reads over my shoulder. His whole body goes rigid. "Tim Riley? They paired you with Tim fucking Riley?"

"I'm sure it's just an administrative—"

"RILEY!"

Blake's voice booms across the lobby. Tim, a lanky guy with hipster glasses, looks up from his phone.

Ryder elbows Connor, both failing to hide their grins. "Somebody's feeling territorial."

"Twenty bucks says he throws him in the water fountain." Connor's smirk has Blake's head whipping around so fast I worry he'll strain something.

Meanwhile, Tim shuffles up beside us, clutching his phone and briefcase like a shield. His Adam's apple bobs as he takes in Blake's thunderous expression.

"I-I didn't request this arrangement," Tim squeaks, holding up his hands. "Corporate just sent me the room assignments this morning."

Blake's jaw ticks. The veins in his neck stand out like rivers on a map.

I'm not ashamed to say… it does something to me. Something warm and exciting.

Ryder leans against the marble pillar, thoroughly enjoying the show. "Shit… Riley's gonna pees himself before this is over."

"I'm raising my bet to fifty," Connor chimes in with a wolfish grin. "And throw in my dessert privileges for a week if Blake doesn't dunk Tim head-first into that fountain like his first fucking baptism."

Blake's glare could melt steel as he turns to them. "Shut the fuck up. Both of you."

Connor mimes zipping his lips. Ryder suddenly becomes very interested in a potted plant.

I press my knuckles to my mouth to keep from laughing.

Tim shuffles nervously, clearly weighing his options. “Uh… I-I can go to the front desk? See if they can switch me?”

Blake doesn’t hesitate. He grips Tim’s arm - not hard, but firm , dragging him toward the concierge desk. The poor guy stumbles over his own feet in the process.

“Find him another room,” Blake demands, slamming his palm onto the counter like a mafia boss making an offer that will be accepted.

The concierge blinks, startled. “I… I’m sorry, sir, but we’re fully booked for the weekend. Hockey team in town and all.”

Blake exhales sharply through his nose. “Fine. He takes my room.”

"The penthouse, sir?" The concierge asks, tapping on the keyboard behind the desk.

Blake snorts. " Yes, the fucking penthouse."

Tim whirls. “Wait, what—”

Blake cuts him off with a glare before turning to me, voice absolute.

“I’m in with you, Hart . I'll grab your bag, you get the elevator.”

A slow, wicked smile stretches across my lips. Natalie nudges my arm and wiggles her brows as she swallows the rest of her champagne.

“Well,” I murmur, sipping my own drink. “That’s one way to handle it.”

Tim nods so fast I’m surprised his glasses don’t fly off his face. “Cool. Coolcoolcool. I’ll just—go. To the… penthouse!”

He practically sprints to grab Blake’s key from Coach Brody, disappearing up the elevator like he’s escaping a hostage situation.

I turn to Blake, eyebrow arched. "Was that really necessary?"

"Just protecting what's mine. Now let's go."

I'm still trying to process Blake's territorial display in the lobby when we head for the hotel entrance. The automatic doors whoosh open and—

Flash. Flash. Flash.

"Blake! Sophia!"

My steps falter at the wall of cameras and microphones suddenly thrust in our faces. Reporters and fans dressed in hockey gear crowd the entrance, smartphones raised high. How did they even know we'd be here? Doesn't the team keep this kind of thing private?

"Are you officially together?!"

Blake doesn't break stride, just grabs both our bags in one hand while guiding me forward with the other. His jaw is set, eyes focused straight ahead as if the press doesn't exist.

He's clearly used to scenes like this. Me? Not so much.

"Sophia, are you the reason Blake's been so focused this season?"

Heat creeps up my neck. I try to channel my mother's media training - head high, slight smile, keep walking.

"Blake, how serious is this? Are wedding bells next?"

That question makes me stumble. But before I can react, Blake's arm slides around my shoulders, pulling me firmly against his side. The cameras go wild, rapid-fire clicks filling the air.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's get to our room before they really sink their teeth in."

My breath catches. The possessive tone in his voice, the casual way his tight hold around my waist claims me in front of everyone… it sends shivers down my spine.

I can practically see tomorrow's headlines forming:

ICEHAWKS CAPTAIN CONFIRMS ROMANCE WITH MARKETING EXEC

BLAKE MADDOX OFF THE MARKET?

POWER COUPLE ALERT: BLAKE & SOPHIA HEAT UP CHICAGO

Blake's thumb rubs gently on my shoulder as we wait for the elevator. His face is straight, completely unbothered by the current spectacle he's just created by the very public display of his affection for me.

This man is going to be the death of me, I swear to God.

But… isn't this exactly what I wanted?

This media circus - it's perfect . The more they focus on Blake and me, the less attention they'll pay to his youth program. Just like when I pulled him into that interview with Jackson, creating a different story to follow.

Blake's right. It's time to give them exactly what they want.

I slide my hand around Blake's solid waist, feeling his muscles tense under my touch. Rising on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his stubbled cheek just as the elevator doors ping open.

The explosion of camera flashes is blinding. Reporters shout questions rapid-fire. Blake's arm tightens around me, and I catch his surprised look - a rare crack in that controlled expression.

"What was that for?" he murmurs as we step into the elevator.

I just smile mysteriously, watching the doors close on the media frenzy we've created. Let them chase this story instead. Every headline about us is one less about the program Blake protects so fiercely.

"Just because."

Soon, the door clicks shut behind us with a soft thud, and I drop my bag, stepping into what has to be the most luxurious hotel suite I've ever seen. My jaw literally drops.

"Oh. My. God."

Marble floors stretch out before me, leading to floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase Chicago's glittering skyline. The king-sized bed looks like it could fit the entire hockey team, draped in what has to be the finest Egyptian cotton I've ever seen.

But it's the balcony that makes me gasp.

A steaming hot tub sits under twinkling string lights, steam rising into the soft evening air. I peek into the bathroom and freeze – the marble and glass oasis is bigger than my entire apartment back in Iron Ridge.

"Um, and this isn't the penthouse suite?" I spin around, gesturing at the ridiculous room surrounding us.

Blake chuckles, tossing his bag onto the bed like this is just another day at the office for him. "Sweetheart, I'd never survive a penthouse with you."

"Excuse me?" I plant my hands on my hips, trying to look offended despite the smile threatening to break free.

He smirks, that dangerous gleam in his eyes that makes my knees weak. "This room has enough space. Barely."

I scoff, crossing my arms. "I’m sorry, are you implying I require an unreasonable amount of space?"

Blake kicks off his sneakers, stretching out like he owns the place. The look suits him. "I’m saying if we were in a penthouse, you’d find some way to take over every inch of it. Closet, bathroom, bed —”

"My needs are important, thank you very much."

Blake tilts his head. "So you are planning to take up all the space in that bed?"

My mouth curves at the corner. "Just stating the facts."

I step closer to the massive bed in the center of the room. The mattress has to be custom-made – it's wider than any king-size I've ever seen. There are at least eight oversized pillows arranged against a tufted leather headboard that stretches nearly to the ceiling.

I press my palm into the mattress, it yields perfectly, like sleeping on a cloud.

"This bed is ridiculous," I breathe. "I could do snow angels on it and never reach the edges."

Blake's voice drops, smooth as dark whiskey. "Go on, then."

I glance over my shoulder, catching the way his eyes darken as they follow my every move. Oh, he’s enjoying this. I bend over and settle onto the bed, crawling on my hands and knees, falling to my back and slowly stretching my arms out, letting my body sink into the ridiculously soft mattress.

I arch slightly, lifting my ass off the bed, making my breasts pop, just because I can.

Blake exhales slowly, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip, and god, the look on his face? It's everything.

"The Icehawks don’t do anything halfway," he says, his voice just a touch rougher.

"Clearly. The sheets alone probably cost more than my first car."

"Try your first three cars," Blake says with a knowing smirk.

The fact that he downgraded from the penthouse just to share this room with me? My heart does a dangerous little flip in my chest, because that's exactly the kind of thing that makes it harder and harder not to fall for Blake Maddox.

Blake checks his phone and groans.

"Alright. I really gotta go. Coach Brody is waiting."

I lift my legs slightly, crossing them at the ankles as I recline against the pillows, watching him as he runs a hand through his hair, like he's forcing himself not to look.

"Poor baby… you don’t just want to stay? Test out this bed?"

Blake stills. His throat is working around a hard swallow as his eyes flick from my legs, my breasts, right up to my lips and back again.

My heart pounds as he takes a step toward me.

"Oh, I do," he grunts, his voice low and dark, the sound having a delicious effect on my nipples. "Believe me."

I arch a brow. "So?"

Blake leans in, bracing one knee on the edge of the bed, his hand pressing into the mattress beside my hip, his lips just inches from mine.

"I'll tell you what…" His breath is warm against my mouth. "You stay right here, sweetheart, and you just wait and see what happens when I get back."

My whole body clenches, the heat in his gaze enough to set a gushing wave of moisture straight to my panties.

I smirk, loving every second of this sex-driven banter that we're getting oh-so good at. "Oh, I plan to."

Then, with a deliberate slowness that I know drives him crazy, I stand up and walk toward the balcony.

I shrug off my blazer, letting it fall to the floor. My pants follow, pooling at my feet. I glance over my shoulder, locking eyes with Blake as I reach for the hem of my top and pull it over my head, revealing my warm skin right before his eyes.

His eyes darken, following every movement as I bend over and slowly, so fucking slowly… sliding my panties down my legs.

The fabric whispers against my skin, pooling at my feet. I step out of them and into the hot tub, fully naked as the skyline glitters over the balcony in front of me.

Behind, I feel Blake staring. Turning to confirm my suspicions, he's backing back towards the front door, biting his damn fist.

Another wave of heat rushes to my pussy at the thrill of it all.

"That’s just mean, you know," he growls, watching as I cup my breasts and gently pinch a nipple.

"What's wrong? Feel like you're missing out?"

He growls, eyes popping as I squeeze my breasts together, slowly sinking into the water so they disappear from his sight.

"Hope you're happy." He's deadly serious. Pissed off, more like it. "Now I’ll be facing the media storm we created downstairs with a fucking boner pressing underneath the table."

I sink into the bubbles, a smug smile on my face. "Have fun at your meeting, Captain."

Blake storms out before he loses all control, but not before rushing back across the room, leaning down, gripping my chin, and murmuring, "Stay right there. I want you wet, naked, and thinking about me when I get back."

Laughing, I sink deeper into the hot tub, letting the warm jets massage away the tension in my shoulders as the door slams shut. The Chicago skyline sparkles before me, a sea of twinkling lights against the darkening sky.

Steam rises around me as I tilt my head back against the edge, letting myself relax for the first time in God knows how long.

This is pure decadence. The kind of luxury I never imagined I'd experience when I took this job in a small hockey town.

Yet here I am, naked in a private rooftop hot tub, waiting for the captain of the Icehawks to return and...

My phone buzzes on the ledge beside me.

My heart jumps, expecting Blake's name to flash across the screen. Maybe he's ditching the meeting early, giving into the ultimate temptation.

But it's not Blake.

It's Eli Thompson.

Eli: Need a favor. Call me ASAP. It's urgent.

I frown, water droplets running down my arms as I sit up straighter.

Eli Thompson needs a favor? From me?

The bubbles swirl around me as I stare at the message. After a moment's hesitation, I reach for my phone, careful not to get it wet.

Whatever this is about, it must be important for Eli to reach out like this.

I hit the call button, and it starts to ring.