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“Behave,” I mouth to him and see his eyes glitter back at me with smug possession.

His eyes drop to the front of my jersey and I follow his gaze to the giant gold number on the front of my chest. A number I never told him about.

A number that is new and recently changed from my previous one.

A number I chose with him in mind. Our eyes meet and I raise my brow.

Hawke doesn’t smile; he doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t mouth to me what he’s thinking.

His hand lands over his heart instead and he taps it twice.

The gesture is simple and small, but the meaning is significant.

He sees me. He sees the way I’m showing my love for him, claiming him.

The team takes the win, and as I skate off the ice, I’m finally calm.

A peace I didn’t have earlier today settles over me.

I change quickly and head out of the locker room, wanting to find Hawke.

Turning to head to the athlete parking lot, I’m stopped suddenly when a large arm wraps around my waist and my body is yanked backward into a hard chest. My skin tingles and I feel instantly warm, even in the chilly air of the arena.

“Not so fast, sugar. You owe me for losing our bet.”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip. “How can you possibly know that already?”

Hawke grabs his phone and shows me the screen. My eyes catch on his personal media account and there’s an image of him at the game, cheering me on. “We’re going to talk later, Em, about the jersey and the new number, I haven’t forgotten, but look at this first, sweets.”

He scrolls down, past the caption, to the comments. There’s already two thousand of them.

“This one is all heart eye emojis, red hearts, purple hearts, this one says so adorable, and I personally like this one the most, I hope this kind of love finds me .”

My heart lurches. “It's only been up for an hour,” I try to argue but the excuse sounds weak even to me. And why do I care? Who cares if some petty girl hates me for being with him. Who cares if jealous, lonely people have anything negative to say about our relationship? At the end of the day our relationship belongs to Hawke and me. As long as he loves me and wants me, that's all that should matter. We know the truth about our relationship and how much we mean to each other. Hawke has shown me time and again that he’s all in, that he isn’t leaving, and that nothing about me and him reflects how he plays.

He’s eased my fears; he has plans to protect me, to protect us in the worst case scenario.

My heart eases and I put my hand over his phone lowering it.

I don’t need to see the post or the comments.

The man I love, the one who never stops showing me how much he loves me, is all that matters.

I know that now. It took me a long time to get it, but I finally do.

“Can we go home now?” I mutter the words and feel Hawke’s arm tighten on me.

He dips his head, letting his lips run down the side of my neck.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. You owe me payment and there’s nothing I can think of that would be better than taking you right here.

This is where you finally get it. This is when we let go of the worries and the doubts and we focus on us, yeah? ”

Hawke’s hand slides under my sweater and he palms my breast through my bra. My head falls back against his shoulder. His fingers tease and pinch my nipples into hard peaks until I’m a moaning mess in his hands.

“I love these,” he murmurs. “I need to see these perfect fucking tits, Em.”

I whimper in pleasure before being swung up and over Hawke’s shoulder.

I don’t fight; I don’t do anything but grip the back of his shirt and hold on.

The Zamboni has cleaned the ice and the crowd has cleared out, leaving the lights mostly off in the arena.

Hawke carries me to the nearest bench, inside the penalty box, that's the most hidden from anyone who may walk through the arena.

He strips my sweatpants and panties off, tossing them to the ground before pulling my sweatshirt off next.

Goosebumps break out on my skin and a shiver runs down my spine.

“I’ll keep you warm, Em.” He leans in, his lips kissing mine.

Hawke shoves his pants down enough to get his cock out before sitting down on the bench and helping me to straddle his waist. I’m already soaked for him, after our stare down during the game, his promises in my ear, and the way his hands had roamed over me like I was made for him just moments ago.

Hawke lines up the head of his cock at my entrance, his hands on my hips, guiding me down his length. I take all of him, sliding down and grinding my hips for good measure. Hawke’s eyes blaze with his devotion and love.

“Fuck, yes. You’re so perfect, sweetheart. Choke my cock.”

I rise up and down a few times, adjusting to his thick dick, trying to take all of him. I whimper and he grabs my hips, yanking me closer, our eyes locking.

“You look so beautiful taking all of me.” He thrusts himself inside, filling and stretching me.

I moan and my body instinctively starts to take what I need.

My hips buck and grind up and down, bouncing on his lap.

My clit is rubbing against the base of his dick and I know I’m getting close.

My nails pierce his skin, my fingers digging into his chest, under the jersey he wore.

I clench my pussy around him, wanting to drive him to the same pleasure.

“I love you. I love you so much, Hawke,” I whimper.

“I love you, Emmarys. I love you so fucking much. Never leave me. I can’t survive without you,” he groans and wraps an arm around my naked back, pulling me in and taking my mouth with his.

Hawke’s kiss is consuming. His lips devour mine, sucking, biting and pulling until my lips are red and puffy and soft. My hands have moved to his shoulders, one gripping his hair, while he continues thrusting up and inside me. My orgasm is approaching fast and my motions are becoming jerkier.

He slides his hands higher, grabbing my breasts and pinching my nipples with enough pressure to drive me over the edge. My orgasm crashes into me and I come, pulsing and tightening around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His eyes slam shut and his body grows taut, his own release hitting him like a tidal wave.

We both sit there trying to catch our breaths, breathing each other in afterwards. Hawke’s hold on me tightens, and I lay my head against him. “This was the best win ever.”

I feel his lips in my hair. “It was. You’re a dream on the ice, Emmarys. I’m so proud of you. I love watching you skate.”

My lips tip up in a smile. “Thank you. That means a lot. But just so you know, I was talking about the post-win celebration.”

He laughs and I feel lighter, like the world isn’t ending because of a picture. I don’t have the nagging feeling to check comments or to care. My body is relaxed and humming and it's all because this man loves me.

We get up and get our clothes situated, sneaking out of the arena and into Hawke’s truck before he brings up the jersey again. My shoulders lift and I avoid his eyes.

“I was thinking of your tattoos and I wanted to feel confident in claiming you. It's your birth month. I love wearing it.”

His mouth drops open and we come to a stop sign. “When we get home, I’m going to give you twenty seconds, Em. Twenty seconds to strip down, put your jersey on and get on the bed. That’s the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I giggle, and shoot him a flirty glance. “I thought wearing your jersey was the hottest thing ever?”

He shakes his head, his hand holding mine before bringing it to his lips so he can kiss my wrist. “You’re claiming me. Any time I see part of myself on you, I feel feral.”

We pull into the parking lot and he turns the truck off before turning toward me. “Better run, Em. The timer started.”