43. Hayden

CHAPTER 43

HAYDEN

"Jesus, Owens, you're on fire tonight," Miller calls over the roar of the fans, hooking his arm around my neck and jostling me as I laugh.

With ten seconds left in the game against Washington, I've just scored my third goal of the game—a hat trick. My gaze goes straight to Darcy, who's sitting behind the net with Pippa and Hazel, and my heart jumps into my throat. She's on her feet, cheering and beaming at me.

I can't stop thinking about what we did last night.

"What's up with you tonight?" Volkov asks with a curious tilt to his mouth. "You're different."

I shrug, shaking my head. "Just feeling good, I guess."

I don't just feel good; I feel fucking limitless . The goals are mine for the taking. That thread of dominance I felt driving me last night? It rages in my blood, sharpening my senses.

Turns out I like being in control like this.

"Something happened again," Miller says as the game ends and we skate off the ice to the dressing rooms.

Fuck yeah, it did. My smug grin stretches ear to ear. "I don't know what you're talking about. "

He studies me with a smirk. "Between you and Darcy. Something happened. I can feel it."

Another rush of that powerful, protective feeling hits me, the same one that threaded through me last night as I held her orgasm in the palm of my hand, as I guided her and coaxed her closer to it, holding off and teasing her until she could barely take it anymore.

"You're together now?" Volkov follows us into the dressing room.

My shoulders lift with my smile. "We're just having fun."

More fun than I've ever had. Living with Darcy is so much better than I expected, and I'm not about to fuck it up.

"That's bullshit."

Frustration rises in me. "You don't understand."

"I do understand." Volkov glares at me. "Make a move, or some other guy will."

This thing between Darcy and me is so fragile. I can't rush it. "She's not interested in the rookies. I told her about it and she called them kids ."

Volkov and I stare each other down. Tension snaps in the air, and my muscles tense. His nostrils flare.

This fucking guy. He always thinks he knows best.

"What if I asked her out?" he asks in a low tone.

My chest tightens with dread. "What?"

"You said she doesn't want to date a kid." He slants me a look full of challenge, and the competitive part of me lifts its head. "I'm not a kid, and I know exactly what I'm doing."

A protective urge rattles through me. The idea of them together makes my blood boil. "Let it fucking go, Volkov."

"I don't think I will." The corner of his mouth slides up, but his smile isn't friendly; it's knowing and smug, and for the first time, I want to fucking hit him. "What, you don't trust me?" His tone is light, almost playful, but there's something sharp in his eyes.

"She'll never go for it."

She's not interested in Volkov. She would have said something before now.

Right?

He shoots me an arrogant look. "Why don't we let her decide?"