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She’s already tugging at my pants, desperate, and I don’t waste a second. I push her underwear aside with one hand while she frees me with ease. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, her breath catching. My body presses into hers, slow at first—just enough for her to feel me, to crave more.

“Just like that?” I murmur into her mouth, thrusting into her in one move.

She gasps, arms tight around me.

“Yes. Don’t stop, Nick. I’m already so close.”

I smile against her lips, then kiss her deep and move with the rhythm we know too well.

The rest of the world fades, and for a few breathless minutes, there’s only us—fire and skin and everything we’ve been holding in since sunrise.

By the time I leave my apartment, my body is still buzzing from the way she clung to me, the way she whispered my name like it meant everything. And maybe it does. Maybe it always has.

Now, the cold air inside the arena does little to cool the fire running through me.

The scoreboard reads 4-2, and we’re in the final five minutes of the game. The energy is electric. Every seat on the stadium is filled, the roar of the crowd vibrating under my skates as I circle back to our bench, lungs burning, jersey clinging to my skin.

I glance up, instinctively, and find her. Sierra’s right in the stands, sitting beside Thalia and Theo. She’s wearing my jersey—Hardy #10—hair loose, cheeks flushed, eyes glued to the ice.

When she notices me looking, she smiles. Soft. Proud. The kind of smile that makes it all worth it. I give a quick nod, just for her, smirking playfully.

Then I’m back in motion.

We’re in the zone. Fast passes, sharp plays. I’m flying over the ice like there’s no gravity, my stick reading the puck like it’s wired to my instincts.

Every time the opposing team tries to close in, we cut through them with practiced precision. This team—my team—is a machine tonight.

But even with the lead, I don’t ease up. Not for a second. Because she’s here. And when Sierra’s watching, I play harder. Sharper. Like I’ve got something to prove—not for the fans, not for my coach, not for the league—but for her.

Because I still want her to see the best of me. Always.

I hear the slap of a puck hitting the boards, the crowd gasping, then roaring when I intercept and break away. My blades cut the ice like fire, and I don’t hesitate—I pass to Chase, who shoots it clean into the net.

5-2.

The arena explodes.

My teammates swarm me as we regroup for the final push. Coach is yelling something from the bench—can’t hear a word. But doesn’t matter, we’ve got this.

And as I skate back into position, heart pounding, one thought beats louder than the rest—to end this quickly and go to my woman.

After the showers, I skip the press conference. I haven’t given a single interview since the media storm exploded after we posted the wedding photos—and the team’s been respectful about it. They get it.

Theo, Thalia, and Sierra are waiting for me in the parking lot, right where I knew they’d be. As soon as I see her, I head straight for her, not giving a damn about anything else.

Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her close and lean down to whisper against her ear, “Missed you, baby.”

She melts into me instantly, her arms locking around my waist like they were made for this exact moment.

“Good game, man,” Theo says, slapping my shoulder lightly, his arm casually slung around Thalia.

“Yeah, Nick. You were on fire,” Thalia adds, beaming.

I chuckle and nod, murmuring a quick thanks. We head toward the cars—Theo and Thalia peel off toward his, while Sierra and I make our way to mine.

We’ve all agreed on a quiet night in—just the four of us, back at my place. No clubs, no noise. Just comfort, laughter, and being together.

My wife stops me before I can unlock the doors, her arms slipping around my waist again in the way that completely disarms me.