23. Taran

"You are absolutely stunning," I murmur as I stare at the headshot pic of Emma Thornton on the Warriors website. The rumours have been confirmed by Keith Thornton that he is stepping down and his daughter is taking over.

An alert pops up on my phone, which I've set to Emma's name; I want to know everything about this woman. Bringing up an online news buzz article, I see her dashing through the rain with Keir Drummond outside the Warriors arena.

I read aloud as I pick up my coffee, sitting up in the sky in my penthouse apartment overlooking Inverness. "‘Is love in the air for the new Warriors team owner? Emma Thornton (29) was seen running through the rain, hand-in-hand with Warriors enforcer, Keir Drummond (26) earlier this morning. What does this mean for the team dynamics? Will things be frosty with the other team members? How does Lachlan McLeod feel about this development going into a new pre-season with the cloud of failure hanging over his head?' Well, who gives a flying crap what McLeod thinks," I mutter, glaring at the pic of Emma and Keir. "Sorry, mate, but that is one woman you don't get to keep. She is mine, and that's all there is to it."

I've been following Emma for some time now. I have inside information on the situation at the Warriors through non-nefarious means, but the less said about that right now, the better. Emma Thornton has been on my radar for several months. I've been following her down in London with her fancy job in Social Media and her relationships with every douche bag going. That Carrick Glenn is a real arsehole. I followed him on IG and his feed is just full of pretty women that he leaves in the lurch as soon as the next pussy on legs walks by. How Emma hooked up with him is a serious mystery. She is so far out of his league, he shouldn't even be able to see her.

I shake my head and toss the phone on my luxurious leather couch, pushing thoughts of Carrick Glenn aside. Emma Thornton is the challenge now, and I'm all about winning, whether it's on the ice or with a woman I can't stop thinking about. My mobile buzzes again, but I ignore it. Instead, I stand up and walk over to the window, hands tucked into the pockets of my joggers, and gaze out at the city that co-hosts my fiercest rivals—Emma's team.

I've always appreciated a good competition, but this is personal. The idea that Keir might be making a play for her irks me more than it should. After all, I've never even spoken to Emma. Yet, here I am, scheming how to nick her right from under his nose.

Letting my thoughts wander to how I'll introduce myself, I know it has to be memorable.

With a smirk creeping onto my face, I turn from the window, finish off my coffee, and head for the shower. There's no way Lachlan MacLeod or Keir Drummond are going to get in my way. Emma Thornton will be mine; it's just a matter of time.

Stripping off, I stare at my hard body in the bathroom mirror. Tanned to a nice colour in the Ibizan sun, I knew as soon as McLeod and Drummond left their party earlier to head home, it meant Emma was finally coming. I caught the earliest flight back home, and now I'm here, ready to lead the Castle Arrows to victory and crush the Warriors every step of the way.

Stepping into the shower, a cool resolve settles over me as the hot water cascades down. Tilting my head back to douse my face with water, I close my eyes and think of the gorgeous redhead with curves that make a man weak at the knees. My cock stirs as I imagine it thrusting between her magnificent tits for a while before I plunge into her hot, wet pussy.

"Fuck," I groan and grip my cock in my hand, stroking hard and fast as I let the fantasy take over.

The water pounds against my back as I bring myself closer to the brink, thinking of her lips wrapped around my cock. But it's more than just lust; it's the thrill of the chase, the anticipation of the game both on and off the ice.

"Emma," I murmur when my cock goes stiff as iron. "Fuck, yeah." I pump harder, feeling the arousal for this woman take over me completely. My balls are aching for a release. It's been so fucking long since I shagged anyone, I'm dying over here. But as stupid as it sounds, I'm saving myself for this woman. This fucking goddess.

The tension in my hand matches the tension in my body, every muscle coiled and ready, like I'm about to slam a puck into the net for the winning goal. The image of Emma underneath me as I pound her into the mattress sends another surge down to my balls.

I'm close now, so close to toppling over the edge into that blissful abyss, and it's her name that pushes me there. "Emma," I hiss as the orgasm hits me like a bodycheck into the boards, intense and overwhelming. My breath comes out in harsh pants as I ride through it, every pulse of pleasure branding her name onto my skin as I dump my cum into my hand, wishing with everything that I was inside her.

But as the haze of satisfaction starts to clear, my competitive streak rears its head again. It's time to make my move.

Once I'm done in the shower, wrapped in a towel and steam still swirling around me. Under the guise of good sportsmanship and community spirit, I'll work my way into her orbit. Pulling up her Instagram, I hover my thumb over the follow button. All my, let's not call it stalking, so far has been under a generic hockey account where I share videos and tips and clips of the Castle's games. But now is the time to make this official.

Tapping the screen, I click follow from my personal account and wait to see how she responds.