Page 76 of Stand Your Ground

And mine went straight to Carter.

Lord help me, the sight of that man in his element tapped into the most feral side of me.

There was something about watching him play his ass off, something about how focused he was, how well he performed, how he seemed more on his game than ever that had me wanting to get on my knees and crawl to him. He was different tonight. He’d been different in every game this week.

He was locked in, his game effortless, his confidence beaming.

And I knew why.

It had been nearly a week since our exploration at The Manor — a week since I’d taken his virginity, plugged his ass, and led him through every wicked corner of that sultry mansion. I’d watched him shed the weight of shame and perfection, seen the relief in his face when he realized he didn’t have to get everything right, that he was allowed to explore, to stumble, to laugh at himself.

It had been freeing for him.

And for me.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed that night until it was over — the rush of guiding him, the way he’d thanked me like I’d given him something more valuable than an opponents’ playbook. After all the drama going on with my family trying to force me into attending my sister’s wedding, it had been a reprieve for me just as much him.

It had also surprised me.

I knew what we were walking into. I knew the play we’d witness, knew the way everyone would dress, knew that by theend of the night, I’d claim Carter’s virginity. But I hadn’t known the way I’d feel when he swept my hair back before kissing me, slow and reverent one moment, playful and grinning the next. I didn’t expect him to make me laugh when I didn’t think I had it in me. I certainly hadn’t foreseen how I’d feel jealous of the first person to ask to touch him, that I’d mark him as my territory like a fucking dog.

That night had been on my mind all week.

He’dbeen on my mind all week.

And I heard a smothered voice deep within my soul screaming how much of a problem that was.

I’d convinced myself it was nothing more than the second payment hitting my account. It had gone through on Monday, another large chunk of change for me to add to my savings, another part of our contract complete.

Surely, that was the reason I’d been so fixated on him. I saw that paycheck and zeroed in on our goal, on the job I still had to fulfill.

I was just making sure he got his money’s worth.

That same voice within laughed at me as I found myself tracking him on the ice again. I did it without thinking, like he was metal, and I was a magnet helpless to resist.

He was crouched low in the face-off circle now, stick angled just right, eyes locked on the puck. The ref dropped it, and Carter snapped it back clean to Vince before exploding forward, skating hard into open ice. He cut across the neutral zone, dug an edge so sharp it sent a spray of ice into his opponent’s shins, and put himself in the perfect spot for the return pass.

The puck hit his tape, and in one fluid motion he curled toward the slot, pulling the defenseman with him. At the last second, he threaded the puck through a narrow lane — a perfect feed across the crease.

Vince didn’t waste it, hammering it past the goalie so fast the net barely rippled before the goal horn blared.

The crowd erupted, and Carter looked up toward our section in the stands. I couldn’t see his eyes from here, but I didn’t need to. I knew exactly how they’d look — bright and sharp, the edges of them crinkled with his signature smile as he prepared to land a joke.

I knew without needing confirmation.

He was looking for me.

A hot zing shot through me, butterflies fluttering low in my chest.

Thankfully, my best friend swatted them away just as quickly as they’d appeared.

“Come with me to get refills?” she asked, holding up her empty wine cup.

I nodded, and after we checked to see if Chloe or Ava wanted anything, we shimmied out of our seats and up to the suite.

We were sharing the suite with other wives and girlfriends of players — and me, who was somehow always included even though I was just the dentist. Then again, I guess if I was a general manager, I’d play nice with the woman who fixed all my players’ faces, too.

Maven was one of the favorites, the kind of woman every player and significant other wanted to be around. I took up her side proudly as she flitted from group to group saying hi on our way to the bar, chiming in with my own stories when it fit. This was the woman who had once felt unwelcome and out of place in a setting like this. Now, it was like she owned the place.