“I’m sorry. Did you say you changed it? As in your last name? To mine?”
“Bennett-Walsh. Hyphenated.” He turns slightly to show me as if I haven’t already seen it.
I open my mouth, but I can’t think of a single thing to say.
He grabs my hips on either side and pulls me to him, leaning down to look in my eyes. “Now when they say my name, they have to say yours too.”
A small, strangled laugh escapes. “You did this because of a stupid headline?”
“I did it because I love you. I’m proud to be yours.” His mouth pulls higher on one side. Just when I think he can’t surprise me anymore.
“You’re unbelievable,” I whisper, then wrap my arms around his neck and lift onto my toes to kiss him.
He reaches down to pick me up and holds me to him. I can’t believe he exists and that I get to be his. Travis sits on the bench, me straddling his lap. The noise of the arena is a distant thing – there but unimportant. I grind over him, pads and all, as our mouths press together in a hard, frantic kiss.
“Fuck, baby. We don’t have long.”
“I don’t need long. Watching you play hockey with my name on your jersey is all the foreplay a girl needs.”
He chuckles and reaches under my skirt to check. When his hands slip under my panties, he groans. “Damn. You weren’t kidding.”
“Hurry.” I’m more concerned about how badly I need him than beating the clock, but now that I think about it, I’d rather the entire team not walk in while I’m fucking my husband.
He undoes his pants and pushes everything down his thighs. I circle the base of his dick with one hand and sink down on him. We let out a collective groan as I clench around him. The way he fills me up makes everything else fade away. Heat swirls and pools low in my stomach. Travis’s hands grip my waist, and he sets the tempo, moving me up and down his long, thick shaft. Every stroke has stars dancing behind my eyes and electricity humming through my veins.
“Fuck, Hannah,” he grits out, then nips at my lower lip before sweeping his tongue in my mouth again. “So perfect. So sweet.” He grunts and moans. Then his words are nothing but fragments that accentuate every thrust.
“Good.”
“Mine.”
“Forever.”
“Coming.”
“Love.”
“You.”
My pussy clamps down on him as I come. His fingers at my waist tighten and he thrusts once more before finding his own release. I spasm and shudder as my body tingles from head to toe.
Slowly the noise in the arena comes back into focus. It’s louder now. The end of the period, maybe. The team will be here soon, but I’m not sure my legs can hold me yet.
“I love you so fucking much.” Travis rests his forehead against mine, then presses one last kiss to my lips. He picks me up and sets me on my feet in front of him seconds before I hear people outside the room.
I smooth down my skirt and send a prayer that I don’t look as disheveled as I feel when the first guys walk into the locker room. I’m certain my face is bright red. Travis is perfectly calm as he leans back against his locker.
Each of the guys gives me a nod, then looks to Travis.
Shep is the first to speak. “You all right? That cut looked pretty nasty.”
“All good,” Trav assures him.
I’m trapped as his teammates continue in a steady stream, walking in, peeling off layers, and taking a seat in front of their locker. Their head coach is the last to enter.
His brows lift and my cheeks flame hotter.
Travis gets to his feet and stands next to me. “Coach, have you met my wife?”
