Chapter 32

Thirty-Two

EMORY

What the fuck am I doing?

This is all her fault.

One second, I'm flipping out of my bed in the dead of night and taking care of the woman I call my wife while she's seemingly in the middle of some type of panic attack, and the next, I'm kneeling on the floor in between her legs, silently begging her to let me touch her.

This is a terrible fucking idea.

I know it down to my core.

But…

But her pussy is picture perfect. I've never seen a prettier one.

And her skin? It's soft in all the right places and smoother than the ice after a Zamboni machine.

"I do want you to touch me…" Her voice is addicting, and if I'm being honest, I feel that way even when she's sassing me. "But…"

But?

She has a ‘but'?

"I can't let you because this will never work if we start crossing lines, and I need this marriage to work more than you know."

For a second, desperation fills my every thought. I'm coming up with excuses and even considering telling her that I'll pay her more, which stops me right in my tracks.

She's not a fucking prostitute. What the hell am I doing?

Her shaky sigh pulls me away long enough to where I can force out an agreement. "You're right."

I stand quickly and turn my back to her. After tucking my dick into the waistband of my sweats, I walk over to the light and flip it off.

We're blanketed in darkness, which is a relief. I'm not in the right state of mind to continue looking at her sitting on the edge of my bed in nothing but a T-shirt. I've always thought she was attractive and alluring in the most agonizing way, but it's the way she just gazed up at me that pulled on every last restraint I thought I had honed.

She didn't resemble the woman that attempted to blackmail me or the tough, independent one who loves to mouth off to me. The more time I spend observing her, the more I realize my perception may be slightly incorrect.

I've witnessed sides of her that she doesn't know about, but after seeing her hidden desire and learning how tempting she is, I realize that I need to get my shit together and focus more on my goal and less on my dick.

As soon as I land on the bed, Scottie moves to stand. Thankful for my height and long arms, I grab onto the fabric of her shirt and drag her back.

"I won't touch you. But you're sleeping in here tonight."

"That's not necessary," she says quietly. "I'll be fine downstairs."

A sarcastic noise leaves me. "I didn't ask."

She matches the noise, but I cut her off before she can say anything else. "Get in the bed and go to sleep, or I'll just follow you downstairs and sleep on the couch beside you."

Don't fucking tempt me, Scottie.

"There isn't room on the couch for both of us."

"Exactly." My response is a warning, and it's one I know she'll heed.

Her sigh is loud on purpose, and I can feel her eyes roll from across the bed. After a few minutes of her moving all around, I finally turn toward her and see a mound in front of me.

"What are you doing?"

Her shadow appears from the top of some sort of barrier. "Building a pillow wall."

Amusement flies to my lips, and I'm thankful she can't see my face through the dark.

"Wow, you trust yourself so little beside me that you have to create a barrier?"

"This isn't for me. It's for you." Her laugh is snarky as hell, and I know we're past the hot-and-heavy moment between us.

Without being able to control myself, I take my arm and shove every last pillow off the bed and onto the floor.

She gasps.

I smirk. "We'll see who's the first to break, then, huh?"

"It won't be me!"

I roll over and put my back to her. "I guess we'll see."

The bed barely moves when she flips over too, facing opposite of me. "Yes, we will!"

I wait until the tension settles and silence takes over to say, "Night, wifey."

All I get in response is a loud, exasperated sigh.

Water cools my skin, and I shake the droplets away. The fans are antsy with the score of two to two, and we're nearing the last few minutes of the game. Practice was brutal, but it always feels good to be back in our home rink with the majority of the guys showing up with a level head after being in their own beds.

My head is the furthest thing from level with Scottie being around, especially after the other night, but I'm focused enough on hockey that it doesn't affect my skill on the ice. It'll be a cold day in hell if I ever let a woman distract me to the point that my game is off.

I slip my gaze to the box seats for a second, and there she is with Corbin's wife, pressed against the glass with their attention on the ice and nowhere else. They're talking, but I have no clue what about. I do a double take because Scottie's hair is pulled up into a ponytail, and she's wearing some bow like a cheerleader. After looking at the other wives, I see that they're all wearing the same one.

I chuckle under my breath.

Scottie sure has played her part well, already becoming best friends with the other wives in the league.

Maybe I can use that to my advantage when I drop the bomb on her that she has to go to the charity event with me that will be fully packed with the media watching our every move as husband and wife.

The whistle blows, and I snap out of it. I move to pull my attention away but not before her gaze finds mine. She gives me a slight nod with a tilt of her lips, and knowing how much knowledge she has of hockey, I know she's not faking the hope in her eye that we'll win.

It's kind of cute that she's rooting us on so hard.

The puck slips out to the left, and the Knights get the first touch, sending it soaring to their center. I bend at the legs and stand in my rightful spot with my attention fully on the little black biscuit.

Scottie pops into my head at the last second.

All I can picture is her with that damn biscotti, dipping it into her morning coffee and licking her lips afterward.

Fuck, get out of my head.

I give my head a harsh shake, and a rush of adrenaline flies to my fingertips when red and yellow jerseys blur in front of me. To the fans, the game is fast. The players rush back and forth over the rink like a stampede, but to me, everything is in slow motion. I already have the sense that they're going to score, because things are getting messy and sloppy, but I'll be damned if we lose again.

My teammates have cleaned up their act compared to our last game, and now it's my job to support them and shove the puck down the other team's throat.

"Fuck off," I grunt, doing a half split and whipping my arm out to the right. The puck slams into my glove, and I smile to myself, trapping it against the ice.

The crowd loses their shit, and Malaki flies toward me with a cheeky smile. "That's our boy."

I give him a look because I'm not a boy, but nonetheless, I give the puck up and get back into my position. There are two more attempts on a score from the Knights, and each time, I freeze the puck in an attempt to give my team a chance to slip it off to Rhodes.

Coach gives me the signal at the end of the third period when I glance at the clock and see that we're tied. We've practiced the drill multiple times, and I know they're going to call me to the bench at the last second so we can up our chances of scoring with another man on the ice.

As soon as we have position, I skate as quickly as I can and flip over the side of the wall. Kane's blades hit the ice, and he owns his nickname of being an animal. He's aggressive, and although Rhodes can't stand his attitude, he knows he's good, so they work together and send a puck soaring into the net.

I stand on my skates, and as soon as I see it hit the top left corner, my mouth curves into a slight smile. "Now that's teamwork."

Coach claps me on the shoulder, and for the first time ever, Rhodes slides over to the rest of the team and hits me on the chest with his fist. He's trying to hide how pleased he is from everyone else, but for me, looking at Rhodes is like looking into a mirror.

"Is that a smile I see?"

He pounds his gloved hand on my chest again but clenches his jaw to act unfazed by the changes we're already seeing in the team.

Between the two of us, we're going to build this team up to the top, and we'll no longer be the laughingstock in the pros.

I tear my helmet off and grin. Rhodes grumbles under his breath and heads for the locker room after the ice has cleared. I stop at the last second when I see that he's staring into the stands.

Scottie is smiling brightly with her rosy cheeks and bright-blue eyes. Behind her is Rhodes's daughter, perched behind her in a piggy-back ride. The bow she was wearing is now in Ellie's hair, and she looks happy.

Like she can feel me staring, Scottie's eyes are drawn to mine. She gives me a strange look and then turns back and smiles at Ellie.

Rhodes curses under his breath after saluting to Ellie, who does the same to him. "I swear to God, that nanny better be in the box with my daughter."

I'm almost positive she isn't, because I think I just had a silent conversation with my wife…which means we're more like husband and wife than I thought.