Page 34

Epilogue I

Hunter

I adjust my bow tie one final time, stealing a glance at Natalie beside me.

She's wearing that emerald dress from Boston, the one that first made my heart stop. That one that she wore when I proposed to her. The one that I can't fucking wait to lift over her hips the second we get home and bend her over the fucking kitchen counter again.

Her hand finds mine, steadying my nervous fidgeting.

"Ready, Coach?" She smooths my lapel and smiles at me, completely unaware that this entire event is supposed to be about celebrating the Icehawks' Stanley Cup win, but she’s the only damn thing worth celebrating tonight.

Through the double doors, I catch glimpses of the transformed Icehawk Arena which is now a breathtaking ballroom.

Crystal chandeliers hang where the new championship banners usually flutter. The Stanley Cup gleams on its pedestal, surrounded by flowers and candlelight.

My team cleaned up well. Even Connor's big head managed to squeeze into a tux and look half decent.

But nothing in that room compares to the woman beside me.

Big Mike's voice booms through the arena speakers, announcing each couple as they step onto the transformed ice slash Gala dinner celebration.

Blake leads Sophia with his usual captain's confidence, her white dress flowing like fresh powder snow. Connor actually manages not to trip as Lucy takes his arm. Those two are looking closer and closer despite whatever is going on outside of the arena with her brother.

And there's Ryder, looking like he won another championship as Mia nestles against his side. The kid's been head over heels since she patched up that stray dog he found, not that he's about to admit it.

The speakers crackle as Natalie loops her arm through mine.

Big Mike's gaze finds us at the entrance, and his signature smirk spreads across his face. My grip tightens on Natalie.

"And the man who made all of this possible, and of course, his gorgeous new fiancée…" A massive cheer and applause makes Natalie blush. "Please welcome… Coach Hunter Brody, and Natalie Hayes!"

I can't take my eyes off Natalie as we step into the spotlight. The room erupts in applause, but I barely hear it. I'm too focused on the way eyes eyes sparkle, on how perfectly she fits against my side.

My girl. My everything. And soon to be… my wife.

I guide her through the crowd, nodding at sponsors, media and fans, but my attention never strays from her. Every head turns as we pass… the gruff coach and the woman who brought him to his knees. I should feel self-conscious about the obvious mismatch, about how far she's out of my league.

Instead, I feel nothing but pride.

Because somehow, impossibly, she chose me. And in a room full of millionaires and hockey legends, I'm the richest man here.

I pull her closer, possessive and protective all at once.

Natalie notices and grins up at me. "Careful, Coach. People might think you're marking your territory."

I press a kiss to her temple. "You're wearing my ring. I think that's enough."

Eventually, we settle into our seats. I should be paying attention to the sponsors throwing money at our championship team. Should be schmoozing with potential new ones and accepting congratulations.

Instead, all I can focus on is Natalie's hand on my thigh.

"The team is being particularly chaotic tonight," Natalie whispers, leaning close enough that her vanilla perfume make my breath catch.

Through the champagne haze, I spot Lucy frantically waving her paddle at the silent auction. Connor tries to stop her as she bids ten grand on a spa weekend that'll take her a year to pay off.

"Should we intervene?" Natalie asks.

I shake my head, too distracted by the curve of her neck. "Let Walsh handle his girl."

Across the room, Connor downs what I'm pretty sure is Big Mike's very expensive collector's whiskey. He will not be happy about that.

Eli Thompson leans against the make-shift bar, swirling his own glass, watching the chaos unfold with a rare, satisfied smirk.

The man’s been through every heartbreak this team’s ever had. Seen the worst seasons, the near-misses, the gut-wrenching losses. But tonight? Tonight, he just lifts his drink in a silent toast, shaking his head like he still can’t quite believe it.

The servers bring out plates of perfectly seared salmon and filet mignon.

At the front, the auction continues. Logan bids an obscene amount on a signed jersey. Blake keeps whispering something to Sophia that makes her giggle uncontrollably.

" And next up, a week-long stay at the Four Seasons Maui... " The auctioneer's voice fades into background noise.

Natalie pushes her chocolate lava cake around the plate. She lifts her champagne flute, running one finger along its edge as her eyes cut to mine.

"So... wedding planning. Should we, I don't know, start thinking about that?"

I lean back, unable to contain my smirk. "Sure. But first, let's just soak in this for a second."

"This?" Her eyebrow arches perfectly.

"Yeah… don't you think it's funny how we used to sneak around this place. How we had to hide, steal moments, keep everything secret."

Natalie laughs and nods. "Crazy how things change."

"Yet now, we can do this."

I cup her chin and pull her into a deep kiss that makes my head spin. Something - probably a dinner roll from Connor's direction - bounces off the back of my head.

I don't dare break the kiss.

Natalie hums against my lips before pulling back to sip her champagne. "Mmm. Those days were kind of exciting, weren't they?"

I freeze. The playful tone in her voice sends electricity down my spine. When I look at her, I see that familiar spark of mischief dancing in her eyes. The one that always means trouble. The one that drove me crazy from day one.

"You miss it."

I watch Natalie swirl her champagne, that teasing glint still in her eyes. "Not saying that. Just saying... there was something thrilling about it. Banging the coach without anyone knowing… it was fun."

The word hits me like a shot of adrenaline. My muscles tense, remembering every stolen moment, every secret touch, every time I had to hold back from claiming her right here in this building.

I'm out of my chair before I can think twice.

My fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling her to her feet. The champagne sloshes in her glass.

"Hunter! Where are we—"

"I'm taking you somewhere."

The need to have her alone, to remind her exactly how thrilling we can be, burns through my veins.

Her eyes widen. Her pulse races under my fingertips.

"Oh." She swallows hard. " Ohhh. "

I guide her through the crowded ballroom, past Lucy still frantically bidding on spa packages, past Connor now attempting karaoke with the live band.

No one notices us slip away. Or if they do, they're wise enough not to comment.

The Stanley Cup gleams on its pedestal as we pass. Tomorrow, it'll tour the town. Tomorrow, we'll star in the parade. Tomorrow, we'll be Coach Brody and his fiancé, the golden couple of Iron Ridge's miracle season.

But right now? Right now I'm going to remind my future wife exactly why we broke all those rules in the first place.

I drag her through the back hallways of the Icehawks’ HQ, my pulse pounding, my cock already hard as fucking steel.

Natalie stumbles behind me, breathless and flushed, her dress bunched in my grip.

"Hunter, we can’t just—"

I slam through a door, yank her inside, and kick it shut behind us. I press Natalie hard against it, my palms flat against the wood on either side of her head.

"Perfect. Now it's like old times."

The storage room is dim, stacked with old game equipment and unused gala decorations. The faint scent of fresh ice still lingers beneath the floral bullshit from the gala.

"Hunter—"

"Yes, baby?" I growl, already pressing her against the wall, pinning her with my body.

She gasps as I grab her thigh and hike it over my hip, my mouth already at her throat. Biting. Claiming. Fucking owning my girl.

"Tell me again how you missed sneaking around, sweetheart."

Her breath stalls in her throat, her hands gripping my suit jacket. "Hunter—"

I slide my palm up her leg, under the emerald silk. "Oooo… no panties. You really are a fucking good girl, aren't you?"

Her eyes widen as I spin her around, pressing her chest against an old, barely sturdy workbench. The thing creaks under the sudden weight, but it holds. I pin her there, my body flush against hers, feeling the heat radiate off her skin.

I reach down and hike up the hem of her dress higher, exposing more of her smooth skin. My fingers find their way between her legs, teasing her clit and exploring her tight hole with my fingers until she's trembling beneath me.

"God, you're so wet," I murmur against her neck.

She trembles, her nails digging into my arms as my fingers hit that beautiful spot deep inside her cunt. "Hunter, the gala—"

" Fuck the gala."

I grin against her skin as I shove her dress higher, bunching the fabric in my fist.

"Missed sneaking around, huh?" My voice is rough, thick with hunger. "Let’s make up for lost time, baby."

I undo my fly, my cock springing free, heavy and thick. I fist myself, dragging the swollen red tip through her slick wetness.

" Hunter —"

I thrust inside her.

Hard.

She gasps, her back arching, her walls clenching tight around me. The workbench creaks under our weight, the old wood groaning as I drive into her, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. Her fingers claw at the wood, searching for something to hold onto as I fill her completely.

"Fuck, you feel so good," I growl, my hands gripping her hips, pulling her back onto me with every thrust.

She moans, her head falling forward, her hair cascading down her back. I reach up, grabbing a handful of her hair, pulling her head back so I can see her face.

Her eyes are closed, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure.

Just like old times.

"Look at me," I demand, my voice rough with need. "I want to see my fiancé's eyes when she comes."

She opens her eyes, her gaze locking onto mine.

"That's it, baby," I grunt, watching my cock disappear into her heat. "Gonna remind you exactly who you belong to. You know that?"

She cries out, her head falling back with a muffled moan. "Oh, Hunter. Fuck."

There's a fire in her eyes, a hunger that matches my own. I can feel her getting closer, her pussy tensing around me.

I bite her throat, suck the skin between my teeth. "You're mine. My fiancé. My future fucking wife. "

She gasps, body trembling, unraveling, coming apart for me. "I'm yours. Only yours."

I grin darkly. "Damn right."

I slide a hand down her belly, pressing over her womb. Then I drop my mouth to her ear, drag my teeth over her skin.

"I'm gonna fill you up, sweetheart," I whisper, thrusting hard and deep one final time. "You’re gonna look so fucking good carrying my babies."

Her eyes widen, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she comes, her body convulsing around me, her walls clenching tight, milking me for everything I have.

I groan, my own release crashing over me, my cock pulsing deep inside her as I fill her with my seed.

We stay like that for a moment, our bodies still joined. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright and satisfied.

"Hunter," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "That was..."

A sudden knock at the door stops the words leaving her mouth. Her eyes go wide and if my cock wasn't still lodged inside her, I'd damn near jump through the roof at the sudden interruption.

"Coach!"

Blake. Fuck. Busted.

"You done breaking the storage room? Greg's ordered a team interview for ESPN in five!"

I groan, dropping my forehead to Natalie’s shoulder. She giggles against me.

"Fuck off, Maddox . "

Blake snickers from the other side of the door. "Cool, cool. I’ll let them know you need another minute."

Natalie’s breathless giggle sends another pulse of heat through me. I pull out slowly, my cum dripping between her thighs.

She gasps as I catch it with my fingers… and push it back inside her warm, sticky pussy.

"Hunter," she moans, shivering.

I smirk. "Gotta make sure it sticks, baby."

Then with zero fucking shame, I grab her hand and drag her back to the gala with the swagger of a man who's now got it all.

The Stanley Cup. My hockey team. My home town.

And now… her.

My future. My forever.

And as it turns out… the only prize that ever fucking mattered.