Page 194 of Pucking Them
“One of my best qualities.” D’Angelo raises his gaze back to the rink and yells, “Keep fucking pushing!”
I sigh.
I should have known that D’Angelo couldn’t resist being a captain. He isn’t wearing the jersey, but theCis sewn invisibly onto his back. Wilder didn’t take that away from him.
If the team can only win tonight, then D’Angelo will know that the team won because of him even if he wasn’t on the ice.
I study his furrowed brow. “Who knew that you turned into an even grumpier bear when ice denied.”
“I’m something else denied,” D’Angelo replies.
I chuckle.
Then I duck my head, when he casts me an offended look.
How hard is he in his trousers?
I’m happily sated, on the other hand. Shay dropped to his knees in front of me in the foyer, pushing up my pretty dress and sliding aside my lace panties. He tongued me to a screaming orgasm just before we left for the game. He licked his lips afterward just as satisfied as I was.
“No strenuous exercise until tomorrow.” Eden doesn’t look away from Zach, who saves another attempt on goal with an amazing dive.
The crowd cheers.
Zach is giving everything, throwing himself at every shot with a fearless intensity.
D’Angelo glares at Eden. “Why did I train you again?”
He doesn’t mean as either player or PA.
“We only need one more goal.” I reach up to touch my pendant, which my partners gave me. I trace over it. I adore that I don’t need to keep my love secret. “We can do this. If they’d only leave Philippe alone long enough for him to pass to Shay…”
The warmth and scent of D’Angelo next to me is grounding, while Wilder casts us glances like he’s in control here and about to destroyourlives.
He’s wrong.
Right?
“Philippe can step up.” Tremors are running through D’Angelo’s muscles, but he manages to keep standing. “Ty has been working with him and training him hard. He’s fast. This is a big ask, but I trust every player on my team. I have their backs. He’s doing this in my place, but also, for all of us. Wilder won’t bully anyone else out of their career or their future.”
D’Angelo’s frosty gaze meets Philippe’s, and he gives an encouraging nod.
Philippe’s expression firms. He straightens his shoulders.
He has the puck, and he glances at Shay, who is working out space in front of the goal.
Wilder doesn’t appear to notice. He is too distracted — his entire attention is focused on the replacement player.
Big mistake.
I hold my breath.
Is this the trick that…at long fucking last…defeats my asshole ex? D’Angelo’s rival who has hazed and hurt him since college?
Next to me, D’Angelo is just as tense.
He nudges his hip and shoulder against me, needing to feel the closeness to me in this moment as much as I do.
“Shit.” I flinch when Wilder and the Penguins’ muscled enforcer slam into Philippe at the same time.
