9. Emma

My eyes burnas I stare at the computer screen, scrolling through endless tweets and posts. It's been three days since Ryan punched Lukas on the ice, and I'm still reeling from the fallout. I've spent every waking hour crafting press releases and social media posts to contain the damage, but nothing seems to be working.

A knock startles me from my thoughts. I glance up to see Chloe poking her head into my cubicle, concern etched into her brow.

"How are you holding up?" she asks, pulling up a chair beside me.

I force a smile, hoping to reassure her. "Hanging in there. It's been a lot, but I'm getting a handle on things."

Chloe nods, patting my arm. "I know it's been tough, but you're doing an amazing job."

"Thanks, Chloe," I say. "How are you holding up? This has been a mess for the whole PR and marketing team, even for those of us who aren't…" I wave a hand at her pregnant belly.

Chloe shoots me a tired half-grin. "I'm pretty tired, as you can imagine! I just got out of a strategy meeting with Coach Daniels. As part of Ryan's ‘penance tour,'" Chloe continues, "he'll be visiting a children's charity in Detroit next week. I'd like you to accompany him to help repair his image. We need an onslaught of posts—photos, reels, the whole shebang. Every person on the internet needs to think of Ryan Thompson as that hockey player who helps kids, and erase the memory of that hockey player who hits his teammate."

My stomach churns at the thought of traveling alone with Ryan, but I nod. "That makes sense. I'm happy to go along."

After Chloe leaves, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. I'm not looking forward to this trip. Ryan and I haven't crossed paths much, and the little that I know about him doesn't make him seem like a fun travel companion.

He's serious, gruff, and standoffish.

Not to mention, you know, physically violent.

My mind keeps drifting to Lukas. I can't stop picturing the blood dripping from his split lip onto the ice and the way panic clawed up my throat at the sight. Like I had any business getting worked up over him.

Like he was my boyfriend or something.

We haven't had any time together since then, so I haven't been able to check on him. I'm sure he's fine, but I still feel this deep need to make sure of that for myself.

And when I'm not consumed by worry for him, my thoughts go in other directions, like the memory of his gaze locking with mine across the bar, the heat that flooded my body when his hands closed around my waist as he pulled me onto the dance floor.

I shake my head, trying to clear the image.

I can't afford these distractions, not with the mess I still need to clean up. But even as I turn back to my computer, I can't escape the feeling of Lukas's eyes on me, his hands on my skin.

And the ache blooming between my legs.

Hours later, I finally emerge from my office, my eyes bleary and my head pounding. The facility is quiet, most of the staff having long since gone home for the night.

As I make my way down the hallway, I'm startled by a figure stepping out of the shadows. I jump, but then I recognize the broad shoulders and tousled blond hair.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't our resident social media savior," Lukas drawls, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Burning the midnight oil, I see."

Heat creeps up my neck at his sudden appearance, and the teasing lilt in his tone.

"Just trying to clean up the mess you boys made," I retort, trying to keep my voice light. "You certainly know how to keep a girl busy."

His grin widens, eyes glinting with mischief. "You have no idea."

I clench my thighs together against the heat caused by his words.

Lukas steps closer, invading my personal space. I can't help but notice the bruise blooming along his jawline, a stark reminder of the fight that started this whole media circus.

"That looks like it hurts," I murmur, my fingers itching to reach out and touch the mottled skin.

Lukas shrugs, his hand coming up to rub at the injury. "Probably doesn't hurt as much as getting raked over the coals by angry fans, like Thompson."

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends a thrill through me.

"Speaking of," he says, "have you seen the memes floating around online? Turns out, people really don't like it when you sucker punch their favorite player."

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I'm well aware. It's been a PR nightmare trying to spin the whole thing."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for causing you more work." His tone shifts to something a little more sincere. "But I can't say that I'm sorry I shoved Thompson. And maybe instigated the hit." Lukas smirks. "He had it coming, Emma."

My pulse jumps as Lukas drawls my name, the sound sliding over my skin like hot silk. I cross my arms, leveling my most unimpressed look at him.

"You could stand to show a little more remorse, you know. This isn't just about you and Ryan. It's about the team, the fans, the whole organization."

Lukas's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. For a moment, I think he's going to argue, but then he seems to think better of it.

"You're right," he says, gaze sliding away from mine. "I apologize. I know you're just trying to do your job."

His words are dutiful but the heat in his eyes when they meet mine again tells me he doesn't regret his actions. Not really.

I swallow against the sudden dryness in my throat, acutely aware of how close we're standing in the deserted hallway. The scent of his cologne mingles with the musk of his sweat, sending a delicious thrill through me.

"This can't happen again," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "The team needs you. We all do."

"I know." He reaches out, fingers grazing my wrist. I gasp at the contact, skin tingling. "I'll be a good boy from now on, Emma. Just for you."

My breath catches as he leans in closer, eyes burning into mine. I know I should pull away, put distance between us before I do something I regret.

But I can't seem to move.

"Lukas…" It comes out a breathy whisper. He's so close now I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Tell me you don't want this," he murmurs, "and I'll stop."

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

Because the truth is, I do want this. I want him, in a way that terrifies and thrills me all at once.

"Don't stop," I say.

Lukas closes the distance between us.

The second his lips touch mine, it's like a dam breaking inside me, unleashing a flood of pent-up longing and frustration.

I kiss him back greedily, hands sliding into his hair to pull him closer.

He groans, the sound vibrating against my mouth, and presses me back against the wall in the hallway. I gasp as he grinds into me, shockwaves of pleasure rippling out from the contact. He feels half-hard already.

I'm dizzy with need, aching to feel more of him against me.

"Emma," Lukas breathes, lips ghosting over my jaw, down my neck. I arch into him, clutching at his shoulders as he nips at my pulse point, then soothes the sting with his tongue.

"We shouldn't, in the hall..." But even as I say it, my hands are sliding under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine.

He growls, pinning my wrists above my head and capturing my mouth again in a searing kiss that leaves me breathless.

I lose myself in the delicious slide of our tongues, the press of his hard body against me. I know this is dangerous, that I'm crossing a line with a coworker that I can never come back from.

But right now, with Lukas devouring me so hungrily, I can't find it in me to care.

I gasp as Lukas's hands slide under my shirt, calloused fingers skimming over my ribs. Heat pools low in my belly, and I squirm against him, desperate for more contact. He chuckles softly, pinching one of my nipples and rolling it between his fingers.

I cry out, back arching, and he does it again.

"So sensitive," he murmurs, lips ghosting over the shell of my ear. "I've been dreaming about this since the bar. Dreaming of having you writhing against me, those perfect tits in my hands while I fuck you senseless."

My cheeks flame, but I can't deny the rush of arousal his words send through me. Lord knows that I've been dreaming about this, too. It feels so good to finally give in to this need.

He releases my hands only to slide both of his under my ass, hauling me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist.

I cling to him as he carries me down the hall, our lips fused together in a messy kiss. He pushes through a door and into the darkness beyond.

We stumble into an empty conference room, hands roaming and breath coming in short gasps.

I know it's wrong, that it's crazy, that it could end up hurting my career. But in that moment, exhausted and finally getting something I've been craving, I don't care.

Lukas pushes me up against the wall, his hands sliding under my skirt and his teeth grazing my neck. I arch into his touch, a moan escaping my lips as he presses against me. I can feel his cock hardening in his pants, the bulge moving against me in a way that takes my breath away.

I can feel how large he is, and I know I'm getting wet.

His thick fingers skim around the edge of my panties, and I gasp. He pushes them aside and skims a finger through my slick lips, and I moan.

"So fucking wet for me already," he growls, sliding two fingers inside me. I clench around him, trembling. "I knew you wanted this. I saw the way you looked at me."

He curls his fingers and starts pumping them in and out, his palm grinding against my clit. My head falls back against the wall with a thud, hips bucking to meet his thrusts.

"That's it, baby. Take what you need." His voice is husky, edged with desire. He slides another finger in and picks up the pace. "I'm going to make you come so hard you see fireworks."

Reason flees, replaced by a frenzied need for release. I ride his hand shamelessly, chasing the building pleasure inside me. His fingers piston in and out, stretching and filling me.

Before I can come, the door bursts open behind us.

Lukas pulls his fingers out of me, and I stifle a moan of frustration. But then I see who's standing there and my blood runs cold.