He’s grinning when he kisses me.
His helmet is off, his hair wet with sweat, his mouth hot. He skids us five feet along the rubber matting so the cameras above the boards get every angle, his arm locked under my ribs, my toes off the ground. The team hoots behind him while they pound their sticks against the boards, the crowd above us roaring over the rapid clicks of half a dozen shutters going off at once.
He kisses me so fiercely that my toes curl.
The heat through me is immediate and total. I forget I’m in a public arena. The cameras vanish, the custody case vanishes, the entire arrangement vanishes. My hands are in his hair before I’ve made the choice. The taste of him is salt, adrenaline, and something underneath that has nothing to do with hockey.
When he pulls back, his eyes are blown wide.
Then I see her.
Vanessa is standing now, behind the away bench. She has not looked away. Her lips are a thin red line, the edges of the fur coat bunched in her fists.
Something in me locks down.
My hands come up to Grayson’s face. His eyes widen as I kiss him back, harder this time, slower than the first one and twice as deliberate. My fingers drag up into his damp hair, and I tilt my head, taking my time, while somewhere behind him, his teammates lose their minds.
He makes a sound against my mouth I have never heard out of him before.
In two long pushes, he skids us back along the matting, setting me down at the edge of the bench. His arm doesn’t leave my waist. The heaving of his chest presses against mine.
“What was that?” he rasps against my ear.
My face is on fire. “Did I do good?”
He laughs, low and hoarse. His mouth brushes the shell of my ear.
“If I wasn’t wearing this gear right now, sweetheart, you’d know exactly how good you did.”
The heat that floods me is dangerous.
“Behave, Wolfe.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He’s still grinning when he steps back. My ears are burning.
Ethan slams into Grayson’s legs from the side.
“Daddy! Daddy, you were so cool!”
Grayson scoops him up with one arm, lifting him over his head until Ethan shrieks with laughter. “Yeah, buddy? Did you see that goal?”
“You went fwoosh.” Ethan pinwheels his arms to demonstrate. “Then it went boom in the net!”
Grayson is laughing into Ethan’s hair. He sets him down on the bench beside me and crouches so his eyes are level with mine. “Wait for me. I’ll be twenty minutes.”
I nod.
He pushes back through the boards and disappears down the tunnel with the rest of his team. The arena is emptying, the noise dropping in stages. Brody gives me a salute on his way past, following the others to the locker room.
Ethan presses himself against my side, his cheek on my hip.
“Miranda, can we have ice cream once Daddy gets back?”
I lift him onto my lap. He is warm and heavy, his head finding the curve of my shoulder, scented with hot dog and the laundry detergent Linda uses on his clothes. One small hand fists in the collar of my coat.
“I don’t see why not.”
