Page 93 of Instigator

My face heats. “You have nothing to worry about in that regard.”

We still haven’t managed penetrative sex—haven’t even tried it since that first time—but I have absolutely no complaints on the bedroom front.

He chuckles, the sound rumbly and warm. “Not that kind of performance.”

“I mean on the ice.” I poke him in the ribs, and he twitches, then wraps his arm more securely around me. “You’re leading the team in points, aren’t you?”

Sure, the team isn’t doing so well as a whole, but he’s a superstar. He simply happens to be a superstar on a mediocre team. It’s tough to sit back and watch as the team I’ve loved and supported for the last twenty-five years takes a tumble in the standings year after year after year, but holy fuck, it’s got to turn around sometime. Right?

I think it’s even more frustrating that, occasionally, we do see flashes of brilliance, a short winning streak and well-played third-period hockey, and then it’s snuffed all too quickly. The team can’t sustain its success, and even from watching from a distance, I can tell it’s almost entirely mental. It’s not the coaching staff. It’s not the camaraderie. They are physically capable. They just can’t put it all together.

Relatable. I’m a hot mess express most of the time too.

“I think so,” he mutters.

The bashful flush that floods his face makes me giddy, and I can’t resist kissing his pink cheek.

“You are, and you know it.” I curl into the warmth of his embrace, indulging in his easy affection. “Just accept it. You’re the best.”

Behind me, some of the guys are laughing.

“Yeah, he is,” Gonzo cheers. “Mr. Goal Scorer over here.”

Aidan’s blush deepens. “Fuck off.”

I grin at him. “Me too? You want me to fuck off?” I start to rise from my seat, and he tugs me back onto the chair.

“You be quiet.” He kisses me, short and quick, then lowers his voice. “The praise makes me uncomfortable.”

“We’ll have to fix that.”

“There’s nothing to fix.”

I thread my hand through his hair. “I like praising you. I want to make you feel good.”

He leans into my touch. “You do make me feel good,” he murmurs. “It’s just hard to hear.”

“Better get used to it.”

He hooks his ankle around the leg of my chair, pulling me closer. “I look forward to it.”

The simple press of his lips to mine lights me up inside like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Sudden. Intense. Awe-inspiring.

And when his smile kisses mine, I can taste his happiness. The lightness inside me meets the contentment radiating off him.

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” Hailey says with a grin. “I don’t need to see that.”

“Close your eyes, then,” her brother retorts. But he eases back, slinging his arm around my shoulder and curling me into his side.

“You’re happy, Cap?” Sinclair asks.

“Yeah,” Aidan says without hesitation. “I am.” He kisses my temple.

Most of the time, he heads straight home after his game, and we play for hours. It’s a rare occasion for him to go out with the guys, and even more unusual for him to go out at home. At his core, he’s an introvert. A homebody.

I like being at home, yes, but I also love to be around people. It’s a bit of a relief that we don’t have to lock ourselves up in his house, that we are able to socialize as a couple with other people. I know there will be plenty of games where he wants to head straight home, but as long as he can make the effort when it really counts, the rest of it isn’t important.

His teammates are fun to be around; I enjoy spending time with the wives and partners, and they seem to like me. It helps that I’ve already been hanging out with most of them at book club for years.