Page 12

12

JEANNIE

Jeannie was waiting in the cramped family room, realizing just how well the Wolverines were taking care of them back home. This room had a card table set up in there for them, two couches, a television in the corner, and they brought in their own meals as one of the security guards walked in with totes of Chik-Fil-A for them to eat while they were waiting. A vending machine that had seen better days was waiting in the corner with one of the bulbs burned out within.

“Man, that was exciting,” Katie, Matthieu’s innocent looking younger sister gushed in almost manic joy. “Did you see them? That puck was crazy fast, and that one dude spit blood on the ice…”

Several of them flinched, and Jeannie knew they were all thinking the same thing – ‘Thank God it wasn’t my husband’…

“Yeah, hockey is a rough game.”

“Are you still gonna love my brother when he loses a tooth like that dude tonight?”

The question was so far out of left field that she couldn’t help but laugh as she exchanged a glance with the girl who was too young to understand.

“Of course I am. Your brother is more than just one tooth or a pretty smile. He’s an amazing person…”

“And they get implants when they lose a tooth anyhow,” Jamie chuckled. “Kenneth has one from a few years ago, and the man will not bite into an apple. He’s a little paranoid about it. I tell him he’s got a screw loose… a toothy, endorsement-loving, screw.”

Several of them laughed easily as the door opened – and the men started to file into the tiny room. Ashley held up her hand, shaking her head. “Nope, claustrophobia right here. This room’s too small for this girl with everyone in it,” and she walked out into the hallway, making them all look at each other in awareness. It was tight by the time you started letting in four or five tall men into the room. Then Jeannie got a glimpse of Matthieu in the doorway.

“That’s our cue,” his mother said knowingly. “Will we see you for lunch tomorrow before we fly back?”

“You don’t want to meet for breakfast?” Jeannie asked curiously – only to feel her face flame red as the woman gave her a deadpan stare, rolled her eyes, and laughed.

“No, sweetie. I’ve been married for years now – why do you think there is such an age difference between Matthieu and his sister? We’ll see you at lunch,” she reassured her and immediately took Katie with her.

Matthieu hugged his family, made his quick goodbyes, and took some ribbing from the guys as Jeannie moved to his side. He clasped her hand quickly with his, pulling her with him as they darted off down the hallway that connected to the equivalent of a human gerbil trail that led to the fancy hotel nearby.

A blur of movement ahead caught Jeannie’s eye—Liam Savage and his wife Ashley, practically running toward the elevators. She barely had a moment to register them before Ashley spun, pressing her husband against the wall with shocking force, kissing him with a hunger that left no room for modesty.

“Oh man…” Jett groaned behind them, shaking his head as he dipped and strolled right through the two of them standing there in the distance, gawking at the lovers up ahead. He nodded at Jeannie and winked as he cut through them, smirking. “I miss my wife so freakin’ much. I’m gonna go see if she wants to FaceTime and talk dirty to me after seeing all of that…”

Jeannie and Matthieu barely held back their laughter as they exchanged a look as Jett walked past without a care in the world— a look of shared awareness, a private, unspoken understanding sparking between them. The heat in her husband’s dark eyes nearly stole her breath. Without another word, they hurried toward the next open elevator, the air between them crackling.

The moment the doors slid shut, Matthieu turned to her, the intensity in his gaze unraveling her completely.

“How are you feeling?” she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the pounding of her heart. “You really fought hard on the ice tonight…”

“I feel like Superman,” he admitted, his lips curving into a breathless, exhilarated smile. “I’m on such an adrenaline high nothing could bring me down. Today has been incredible. I married the woman I love, we won the game, and?—”

Jeannie didn’t let him finish.

With a surge of boldness, she grabbed the front of his jersey, yanking him toward her with all the force of her racing emotions. She’d seen Ashley’s move, and she wanted to try it herself—to claim her husband the way he deserved to be claimed. The way she wanted him.

And, oh, was he interested.

Matthieu growled low in his throat, his mouth crashing against hers with a hunger that sent a shudder through her entire body. He lifted her effortlessly, pressing her against him as if he needed to feel every inch of her to believe this moment was real.

The elevator dinged open, but he didn’t stop.

Didn’t hesitate.

His grip on her was unyielding as he carried her down the hall, his breath ragged, his pulse pounding just as wildly as hers.

The rough fabric of his jersey scraped against her palms as she clung to him, feeling the solid weight of his body beneath her fingertips, the raw strength in the arms that held her so securely. The world outside of this hallway, outside of this moment, ceased to exist.

“Key…” he rasped against her lips.

“In my jeans…” she managed, her voice a breathy whisper, thick with longing.

Matthieu let out a husky chuckle, resting his forehead against hers, his fingers flexing around her thighs.

“Oh man, I’m holding them…”

She bit her lip, her chest rising and falling against his. “I know… but you’ve gotta put me down…”

His grip only tightened.

“I don’t wanna,” he admitted, voice hoarse with desire.

Jeannie let out a soft, indulgent laugh, but it was laced with the same urgency tightening in his chest.

“Matthieu…”

A growl rumbled from Matthieu’s chest, reverberating through Jeannie like a drumbeat calling her home. The way she said his name—breathless and teasing—sent shivers cascading down his spine. She knew exactly what she did to him, how she unraveled him with nothing more than a whisper. And she owned him—mind, body, and soul.

“Can I take ’em off?”

“The second we’re inside—yes,” she breathed, barely able to finish before he spun her around with the precision and power of a man who had just conquered the ice and was now ready to claim his greatest victory— her —but that began with getting the hotel room key first.

Jeannie gasped as her palms met the cool, unforgiving wall, bracing herself against it as warmth and wanton need tingled through her veins. The hallway lights buzzed overhead, an indifferent witness to the storm of heat building between them. If anyone happened to pass by, they might think she was being frisked by a cop, but the real crime was how intoxicating it felt to be trapped beneath Matthieu’s touch.

He didn’t rush. He let his hands drift over the curve of her hips, mapping her as if he needed to commit every inch of her to memory before the night was through. The anticipation was thick between them, an electric current crackling in the air, snapping at her senses.

She could barely think past the hammering of her pulse. The keycard was in her pocket, but instead of reaching for it, he leaned in, his lips brushing over the sensitive curve of her neck, just below her ear. His breath, warm and unsteady, sent a tremor down her spine.

She shivered.

Her tiger was toying with her…

“Matthieu…” she whispered, her voice nearly lost beneath the steady pounding of his heart against her back.

His hands flattened against the wall beside hers, caging her in. She shivered as she saw his fingers splayed against the wall, so close to her own hand where she’d braced herself. His entire body lined up with hers, the heat of him searing through the thin barrier of their clothes. The passion that had driven him on the ice burned even hotter now, but this was different— more than adrenaline, more than the thrill of the game. Those emotions were directed at her. This was love. Raw, unfiltered, and powerful enough to bring them both to their knees.

“I need you…” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion and longing.

“We’re in the hallway…” she murmured, her words a soft protest, but her body betrayed her, pressing back into him, craving more.

She was right, but her resolve was melting quickly. Every inch of him seemed to be trying to make contact with her in some way, some fashion at that moment. Heck, she could have sworn their ankles were touching the way he was looming over her – and she was here for it. His scent, this feeling, the way he seemed to fit against her back…

And then?—

“My eyes!”

Jett’s voice shattered the moment like a slap shot ricocheting off the boards. Matthieu stiffened, and Jeannie laughed in embarrassment, chancing a glance at Matthieu as Jett rolled his eyes in the distance, holding up an insulated ice bucket by the handle for them to see.

“I’m going to get ice for my freakin’ knuckles, and I see that going on down there. I’m surrounded by hormonal people getting it on, and I miss my wife. Life is not fair. Go to your room and spare me the rerun of whatever you’re doing when I come back this way.” Jett gestured at Matthieu, shaking his head and pointing and waving his finger up and down like a conductor leading an orchestra. “Your stance is all messed up. You’ll pull a muscle in your butt cheek like that. Sheesh . Haven’t you ever banged your wife before?”

Doors around them creaked open, up and down the hall, curious heads peeking out at the commotion. Yep, the privacy and the moment were both gone.

Matthieu exhaled sharply, his breath hot against Jeannie’s shoulder as his forehead came to rest there, his fists clenching at his sides in a battle for control. His voice, thick with frustration and yearning, came out tight, strained—almost guttural.

“GOOD NIGHT, JETT…”

Jeannie was shaking against him, her whole body trembling—not just with laughter but with something deeper, something raw and unresolved. Desire coiled in her stomach, hot and aching, and she knew he felt it too. She could feel it in the tension of his body, in the way his muscles locked as though he was barely holding himself together. He always made her feel like this—alive, on fire, teetering on the edge of something both dangerous and beautiful.

Then, with a sound that was half growl, half groan, Matthieu all but slapped the keycard against the lock, cursing under his breath when it didn’t register immediately. The delay was agonizing.

Jeannie bit her lip to keep from laughing again—because heaven help her, even in moments like this, she found joy in teasing him.

Finally, the lock blinked green, and in a single, fluid motion, Matthieu shoved the door open and pulled her inside. The door slammed shut behind them, the final barrier between them and the rest of the world falling away.

“I love that man and hate him so much sometimes…” he muttered, still breathless from restraint, from wanting.

Jeannie turned in his arms, warmth and mischief dancing in her eyes as she reached up, smoothing the crease between his brows with the lightest touch. “It’s sweet that he misses his wife…”

Matthieu exhaled slowly, his grip on her tightening just enough to make her pulse quicken. “I’d miss my wife too,” he admitted, his voice rougher now, weighted with meaning. His hands skimmed over her waist, tracing slow, grounding circles—like he needed to feel her, to make sure she was real.

Something shifted then.

The playfulness in his gaze flickered, replaced by something darker.

He didn’t just look at her—he devoured her, his stare burning as it traveled over her face, her lips, the soft curves hidden beneath his jersey she was wearing proudly proclaiming ‘Larsson’ and her denim jeans. He took his time, prowling toward her like a predator who had just locked onto his prey.

Jeannie’s breath hitched.

This was the man she married.

Her angel, her protector, her lover…

The one who knew how to tease, how to push her, how to make her heart race with a single glance.

Matthieu tilted his head, his voice deceptively casual as he asked, “Do you want some champagne?”

Jeannie shook her head slowly, her lips parting as he stepped closer.

“Do you want some water? Something to eat?”

Again, she only watched him, her breath quickening, her pulse a steady drum in her ears.

Matthieu’s lips twitched, his gaze dropping to the snug denim hugging her hips. His voice dipped lower, roughened with hunger. “Do you want out of those jeans?”

Heat curled in Jeannie’s stomach, spreading like wildfire beneath her skin. She inhaled, slow and deep, before tilting her head, a teasing challenge in her eyes.

“Do you want me to put my veil back on?” she countered softly, watching him.

Matthieu sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body tensing at the mere suggestion. She could see the effect her words had on him, how his restraint frayed at the edges, how his fingers twitched like he was one second away from tearing through every last barrier between them.

The air between them vibrated with anticipation, thick and electric.

And then she laughed softly between them. Low and throaty, the sound rich with amusement, with promise. A siren’s call and she saw something in her husband’s expression buckle —some final thread of self-control snapping beneath the weight of his need for her.

And just like that, Matthieu was lost as he closed the gap between them, kissing her with wild abandon, his hands trembling with desire.

Her beloved tiger had just been offered a tomahawk steak.

And he was starving.

H ours later, Jeannie lay nestled against him, her cheek resting on the solid warmth of his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The only light in the room came from the shimmering cityscape beyond the panoramic windows, casting a soft glow over the bed where they were snuggled beneath the sheets. The world outside bustled with life, but within this quiet sanctuary, there was only them—two souls wrapped in love, in promises, in the lingering magic of the night.

She traced delicate circles on his shoulder, feeling the slight rise and fall of his breath beneath her fingertips. The heat of his skin, the scent of him—a mix of something rugged and familiar—felt like home.

“So…” she whispered, the word barely audible in the hush of their cocooned world.

“So…?” His voice, deep and rich with emotion, vibrated against her cheek. There was something tender in it, something that made her chest tighten. “Any regrets?”

She exhaled slowly, drawing out the word in a teasing lilt. “Nahhhh…”

Beneath her, he tensed. His muscles coiled as if bracing for impact, and he lifted his head from the pillow, his gaze searching hers with sudden urgency.

“Jeannie?” His brow furrowed, concern lacing his voice. “Are you having regrets, babe?”

Her heart swelled. How could he think that? If anything, the only thing she regretted was the time wasted before they found each other, before they became this . She lifted her head, brushing her lips lightly over his jaw before giving him a soft smile.

“The only regret I have is that we waited so long,” she murmured.

Relief crashed over his face, and he let out a breathless chuckle, his head dropping back against the pillow. She loved that about him—how fully he felt everything, how his emotions were never restrained or dulled. The way his eyes sparkled when he was happy, the way he held nothing back. Loving him was like standing in the sun—warm, radiant, all-consuming.

She had never imagined this. A love so deep, so absolute, that it felt like a lifeline. And yet, here they were, on the precipice of forever, and she knew—without a doubt—she would give him anything to keep that light in his eyes.

This is what love is.

A flicker of sadness touched her heart, a shadow in the glow of her happiness. She didn’t want to tell him about the text she had sent earlier, about how she had reached out to her parents in a moment of longing, hoping— needing —to share in this joy. And how the only response had been silence.

That door was closed.

But she was walking a different path now, one paved with love and unwavering devotion. A path she would walk with him, hand in hand, never alone.

Her voice was barely more than a whisper as she pressed her palm over his heart. “I want our children to always know just how much we love each other… always.”

His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer, and when she tilted her head up, she found his gaze already waiting—soft, knowing, full of unspoken vows.

“I think they will,” he murmured. Then, more fiercely, as if the words were being carved into the very foundation of their love: “Not just them either. I want the world to know how much I love you. I want you to feel it surrounding you, holding you. I want our kids to grow up knowing that kind of love—never doubting it for a second.” His voice broke with intensity. “I would do anything for you, Jeannie. Just to see you smile. Just to hear your laugh. I never imagined how overwhelming this pull inside me would be and how much I need your happiness. If you’re not happy, then I’m miserable. I desperately need you to be happy with me.”

Tears burned in her eyes, but they were not from sadness. They were from the sheer, breathtaking enormity of what they had—what they were building together.

“I’m overjoyed with you,” she promised, her voice thick with emotion. “With us.”

His hands framed her face, his touch reverent, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped free.

“I love you,” she whispered.

His lips brushed over hers, a kiss as soft as a vow. “I will always love you—now and forever.”

And as he pulled her close, sealing them in the warmth of their love, she knew—with unwavering certainty—that forever had already begun the moment he grabbed that man’s wrist months ago, sparking that look between them where her soul recognized his.

Her angel.