Page 45

Chapter twenty-nine

I’m not wearing pants with structural integrity

Zoe

B y the time I make it down to my seat, the energy in the arena is already electric. The lights are pulsing, the crowd’s still filing in, and music is thumping through the stands.

I spot Tamara near the glass, waving me over with a grin and a bag of popcorn tucked under one arm. Her hair is perfect, her outfit is cooler than mine, and she’s giving off that effortless cool-wife vibe that I will simply never master.

Beside her is Lulu in a cropped pink Storm tee and high-waisted jeans, sipping a drink like she’s here to enjoy the show and stir up just enough trouble to keep things interesting. Every time I see her, I wonder why I love her so much. And then she opens her mouth, and I remember.

“Glad you could make it,” Lulu says as I slide into the seat beside her.

“I was working,” I mutter, adjusting my jersey. “And maybe waylaid hooking up with one of your brother’s teammates in a staff hallway.”

Tamara snorts. “Good girl.”

“I didn’t ask,” Lulu says mildly, without looking over. “But thanks for the visual.”

“Oh, please,” Tamara says, sipping her drink. “You caught Eli and me making out on the kitchen counter once and lived.”

Lulu shudders. “That’s burned into my corneas. I had to stage a personal exorcism.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Tamara says. “You literally told me you were happy he was finally getting laid regularly.”

“I lied. For you. ”

I bite back a laugh and pat Lulu’s leg. “You’re a good sister.”

“I’m a traumatized sister,” Lulu says. “I may transfer to another bloodline.”

“Rude,” Tamara says, feigning offense. “What are you gonna do, get married off to one of Eli’s teammates?”

“Maybe…” She pauses, squinting at the ice where warm-ups are finishing. “I mean, Reid’s hot.”

Tamara nods. “Reid’s terrifying and hot. But also about fourteen years older than you, meaning Eli would try to kill him and die. Do you want your brother to die , Lu?”

Lulu rolls her eyes and points a thumb at me. “ She’s living in an age gap romance! Chase’s maturity is on par with a frat boy who made a wish to become a Labrador, and it almost worked.”

I snort. “That is deeply accurate and also offensive.”

“It’s a gift.”

“And our gap is far less than fourteen years.”

She huffs a sigh and we all stand as the anthem starts.

Shortly after, the puck drops and the game kicks off fast. The Storm takes immediate possession, with Ryan shouting orders from center.

Logan is smooth as hell on the breakout, and Eli looks locked in from his very first shift. Everyone’s crisp, fast, and dangerous.

And then there’s Chase.

He hits the ice with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball, legs moving faster than pistons, eyes tracking every play like he’s starving for it. His first shift alone includes a monster hit, a blocked shot, and a chirp that’s so clearly rude that even I feel offended by it through the glass.

The second period starts rougher—one of the opposing forwards throws a late elbow, and Chase snaps. He drops his gloves so fast I barely process it.

Tamara’s already grinning. “Here we go.”

Chase lands the first punch, then the second. The guy gets in a few decent hits, but Chase doesn’t flinch, just takes them and shrugs them off, then keeps going on the power of pure vengeance alone.

Lulu lets out a strangled noise. “Why is this kinda hot? That’s so wrong. I feel wrong.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Tamara says. “Adrenaline sex is a real thing. Like, scientifically. Eli’s a monster after a win, especially if there’s a fight. Or overtime. Or—honestly, if he just sees me in jeans that make my ass look good.”

“Gross,” Lulu chokes. “Can we not talk about my brother like that?”

Tamara raises an eyebrow. “You think he was knitting the night you caught us in the pantry?”

Lulu makes a strangled sound and covers her ears. “I’m going to puke.”

There’s another big hit, then a right hook. A clean uppercut that makes the guy stumble, and Chase doesn’t even hesitate. He’s breathing hard, bleeding from the lip, and vibrating with rage.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.

“That’s not Jesus,” Tamara says. “That’s a man who hasn’t seen his girlfriend in four days and is planning to break every bedframe in a ten-mile radius.”

Lulu scoffs. “He’s literally bleeding from the mouth, and you guys are turned on?”

“Yes,” we say in unison.

Chase gets sent to the box, still breathing hard, his knuckles red and jaw clenched. When he glances over and looks right at me, my whole body seizes as his eyes remain glued on mine, his tongue slowly sweeping across his bottom lip.

“You’re gonna get it so bad later,” Tamara whispers gleefully.

“I’m not wearing pants with structural integrity,” I hiss. “I can’t take this.”

“Maybe don’t wear pants at all next time,” Lulu murmurs, eyes on the ice. “Save yourself the laundry.”

I hum in agreement, my eyes still locked on him. “Worth it.”

Chase drags his tongue along his bottom lip again, and Lulu tilts her head. “I mean... I kinda get it.”

We both turn to stare at her.

“Not for him .” She nods at the ice. “For Miller.”

We follow her gaze just as Logan Miller, the Pookie bear himself, steps into a scuffle and drops his gloves. It’s not showy or dramatic, just efficient. Controlled and hot .

I glance sideways at Lulu, who’s locked in like a sniper.

“ God ,” she moans. “I hate you both for this.”

I shrug a shoulder and offer a grin. “Welcome to the club.”

“We are not telling Eli about this,” Tamara mutters.

The game continues, and I try to focus, but every time Chase touches the puck, my pulse spikes.

He’s a machine tonight—clean reads, killer passes, shutting down the rush like he was born for it.

Late in the period, Chase hits the ice again on the power play.

Logan sets up the pass from the point, and Chase doesn’t hesitate, just takes the shot.

Goal.

The entire arena explodes. I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved, screaming with everyone else, watching as he throws one arm in the air and skates toward the glass on one knee.

The goal lights flash, and the music cuts in.

I freeze, because suddenly, lyrics about liking girls a little bit older from The Outfield song, Your Love , are blaring through the arena.

Lulu gasps. “Oh… No, he didn’t.”

“Oh, he did,” Tamara says gleefully.

“Chase Walton, I will kill you,” I hiss, still standing.

Chase is skating backward now, a devilish grin in place, helmet slightly askew and pointing directly at me with his stick. Deadass. Across the rink, an arm extended like a middle-school boy declaring his crush. Cheering sounds all around while Lulu wheezes beside me.

“I hate you,” I mouth through the glass, straight at him,

His grin stretches wider, and he mouths back. “No, you don’t.”

Lulu leans in. “You gonna punish him later?”

“I’m gonna strangle him with his own jockstrap.”

“Oh.” Tamara laughs. “That’s foreplay for you two.”

“Then I’m gonna stab him with his stick,” I add.

Lulu fans herself with the sleeve of her drink tray. “I can’t believe you have to sleep with him later.”

“I don’t have to,” I snap. “I choose to.”

“That’s worse.”

I don’t even respond, because I realize I’m smiling.

And later, I’m going to ruin him for this.

Wearing absolutely nothing but his jersey and a grudge.

***

By the time he emerges from the locker room, I’m already waiting, leaning casually against the wall in the tunnel, my blazer draped over the crook of my arm, jersey on full display. The crowd’s thinning, media’s winding down, but I’m not moving.

His hair is damp, curled slightly at the ends, his suit jacket gone, and his shirt half-buttoned. The fresh cut on his bottom lip is red, raw, and completely unfair. His eyes drag down my body, and when they land on the jersey, his jaw clenches.

“You’re still in it,” he says.

I shrug innocently. “You scored a goal.”

“And got into a fight.” He smirks.

I step closer, fingers brushing the collar of his shirt. “You’re bleeding.”

He leans in with a hum. “You gonna kiss it better?”

“I should make you wait,” I whisper. “Make you suffer a little.”

He chuckles, but it’s dark and dangerous. “You think I haven’t already been suffering? Zoe, I haven’t had my cock inside you in five days and four fucking nights. I nearly murdered that guy just thinking about you.”

“Romantic.”

“Deadly,” he murmurs. “Come here.”

Before I can blink, he grabs my waist and hauls me against him, mouth crashing down on mine. I taste sweat and blood and mint gum, and even though it’s gross, it’s also kinda hot. I softly moan into the kiss, fingers fisting his damp hair.

Then he’s moving, curling an arm around my waist and walking with long strides and zero hesitation. We make it to the team parking lot, where mostly everyone has vacated, which is lucky because I’m not sure how long we’re gonna last keeping our hands off each other.

Once we get to his SUV, he pushes me up against it, kissing me again.

“I missed you,” I breathe.

He bites my bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“I missed you.”

His satisfied hum rumbles against my throat. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, the neighbors file a noise complaint.”

I huff a laugh. “You don’t have neighbors, you feral maniac.”

“Exactly.”

He unlocks the car with a beep, yanks the back door open, and pulls me in behind him.

I climb in without a word. The door shuts behind me, the darkness swallowing us whole, and then I’m crawling into his lap, straddling him, my knees braced on the seat as I grip his shoulders.

His hands skate up the back of my thighs, over the curve of my ass, and he groans as they hit the waistband of my leather pants.

“Fuck me,” he mutters. “These pants have haunted me all night.”

I smirk, teasing the collar of his half-buttoned shirt. “You didn’t even get a full view.”

“I didn’t need one. My imagination’s been very busy.”

I grind down just enough to make him curse again. Then he tugs at the pants, slowly unwrapping his favorite present. Inch by inch, leather slides off my skin, and his breath gets heavier with every reveal.

“You’re not wearing panties.”

“I was in a rush.”

“You wore my jersey with no panties to my game?” His eyes are wild. “I should marry you just for that.”

I start to laugh, but then he moves me off him and drops to his knees on the floor of the SUV.

“No time,” he mutters, pushing my thighs apart. “Gonna taste you first. Need it.”

His mouth finds me in seconds. Hot and dirty, his tongue laps at me as if he’s starved. He groans into me, arms locked around my thighs, grinding his face deeper like he wants to live there.

“Chase—Oh my god —”

“You taste better than I remember,” he pants, eyes dark and glazed. “Better than anything.”

I’m already trembling, hips bucking, hand in his hair. He sucks my clit hard, and I scream, clamping a hand over my mouth as I fall apart, legs shaking violently around his head.

When he finally pulls back, his mouth is wet and chin slick, and he wipes it on the back of his hand like a damn trophy.

Then he sits back on the seat and unzips.

“Been jerking off to the idea of this for days,” he mutters. “You. My jersey on your back while you bounce on my cock.”

He looks up then, eyes burning.

“I want the view in the rear-view mirror,” he says with a smirk. “Wanna see you fuck yourself on me, wearing me, knowing exactly who you belong to.”

“Jesus,” I whisper, jaw slack from his words. “You are so fucking gone for me right now.”

He grins with blood smeared on his bottom lip. I lean in and smudge it with my thumb, then kiss him, which only seems to make him more desperate.

“Get my cock out,” he orders, voice nearly feral.

I fumble with his pants, tugging them down just far enough while he grabs a condom from his wallet, tears it open with his teeth, and rolls it on.

“Get on, Zo,” he says.

I climb onto his lap without hesitation, both of us wild and breathing fast, the SUV a blur of fogged windows and leather creaks. He grabs my ass as I hover over him, his voice rough and demanding.

“Ride me, baby. Make up for every second I’ve been gone.”

I sink down in one slow, tight glide, taking every inch of him until I’m filled to the point of madness.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, head falling back against the seat. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“It’s been less than a week .”

I roll my hips, and his jaw clenches on a groan, then his eyes flick up to the rear-view mirror.

“Look at you,” he moans. “My name stretched across your back while you’re stretched around me .”

His hand slides up my spine, curling around the back of my neck, dragging me down to kiss him again, his voice pure grit against my mouth.

“Putting you in my jersey? That was a fucking mistake, baby.”

I gasp as his mouth drags along my neck, sucking hard at the spot just beneath my jaw—his favorite place to mark. His hand slides around to palm my breast through the thin fabric, fingers rolling over my pierced nipple until I’m shaking.

“Because every time you move, every time you bounce, I see it in the mirror. You know what that does to me?”

I shudder and lean in, lips brushing his ear.

“You did this to yourself, Walton,” I rasp. “You wanted me in your jersey, now you get to watch.”

He groans so loud it echoes in the cab.

“Tell me whose name you’re wearing.”

“Yours.”

“Whose cock’s inside you right now?”

“Yours, Chase. Fuck— yours .”

“That’s my fucking girl,” he pants, grinding up into me harder. “Wrapped in me, so fucking pretty stuffed full of me, riding like you were made for it.”

I ride him harder, bouncing faster at his words. The SUV rocks with every movement, but I don’t care because my thighs are shaking now, rhythm stuttering as my orgasm builds.

“You gonna come for me?” he murmurs, thumb brushing down over my clit. “Gonna make a mess all over my lap while you’re in my number?”

I gasp, rolling my hips down harder, my voice catching as I pant against his mouth.

“Keep talking like that,” I whisper, “and I’ll come so hard you’ll be wiping me off your leather seats for days.”

His hand moves and tightens on my ass, dragging me down into every thrust as he grunts, hips jerking up as I tighten around him. The other hand moves to collar my throat.

“Wanna fuck you in this,” he breathes. “Every day. Want you dripping down your thighs wearing nothing but my name.”

That’s all it takes. I fall apart, moaning into his mouth as I clench around him, trembling into his chest with a sigh.

He groans, thrusts up once, twice, and then he’s gone too, biting into my shoulder as he comes, still clutching the jersey to keep him grounded.

The silence is only punctured by our ragged breaths filling the SUV.

Chase leans back, still inside me, gaze dragging back up to the mirror with a lazy, wrecked grin.

“Best fucking view I’ve ever had.”