“Maybe.” His eyes drop to my mouth. “Or maybe, for the first time in my career, I have something worth playing for.”
My heart does this stupid fluttery thing it started doing the day I met this man. “Daemon Lucero, are you going soft on me?”
“Never.” But he's smiling when he says it. It’s that rare, genuine smile that makes him look younger. “Everyone's gone. It's just us here.”
“Just us and a giant empty arena.”
“Exactly.” He takes my hand in his. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just follow me, Chaos.”
He leads me down from the stands, through a corridor I didn't even know existed, past offices and equipment rooms. This place is so much bigger than I expected.
The entire facility is quiet now, just the hum of the building's systems and our footsteps echoing off the walls.
We stop outside a door marked LOCKER ROOM.
“Daemon,” I say his name slowly. “Are you taking me into the locker room?”
“I am.” He pushes the door open, pulling me inside.
The locker room is massive. Rows of stalls with the players' names above them, each one personalized with photos and trinkets. The cold smell of sweat and something uniquely masculine fills the air. It should probably be gross, but instead, it's kind of hot to be in here with him.
“So, this is where the magic happens,” I say, looking around.
“Some of it.” He backs me up against his locker, guiding me with his hands on my hips. “But I want to show you a different kind of magic.”
I snort out a laugh. “You want to do this in the locker room? Really?”
“Really.” His mouth finds my neck, and I gasp. “I've been thinking about doing this all through practice. Watching you up there while you’re wearing my shirt. You look like you belong here, like you're mine.”
“I am yours,” I breathe on a shaky exhale.
“Damn right you are.” He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist automatically. “And I'm going to prove it to you. Just in case there are any residual doubts.”
He carries me to one of the benches, setting me down on the wooden seat. My hands go to his practice jersey, tugging at it. “This needs to come off.”
“You’re so impatient, sweetheart.”
“Baby, you have no idea.”
He rips off his jersey, revealing the compression shirt and pads underneath. Those come off too, and then he's bare-chested in front of me. All hard muscles and golden skin that I can’t get enough of. I run my hands over his chest, feeling his heart pounding under my palm.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper.
“That's my line.” He grips the front of my jeans, popping the button. “Lift up.”
I do, and he slides my jeans and underwear down in one smooth motion. The air is cool against my skin, making me shiver.
“Are you cold?”
“No.” I shake my head furiously, not wanting him to stop. “I just need you.”
He drops to his knees in front of me, and my breath catches. “That’s good, because I'm about to make you scream in my team's locker room.”
“Daemon-”
