Page 154 of Make the Play

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he strolls past, dropping his voice low. “You wearin’ what I think you’re wearin’ under there?”

I lift my chin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He flashes a look that says hedoesknow and that he’s been thinking about it for hours, and then he keeps walking, the rest of the world none the wiser.

By the time the last player’s through, my hands are sweaty. I manage to hold it together just long enough to finish the reel, but the second my replacement arrives, I hand over the gear and duck out through the staff door, slipping down a quieter corridor toward one of the media rooms we sometimes use for quick interviews.

I lean against the cool wall for a second and then tug open my bag to grab lip gloss and reapply. I’m just heading back out when I pause, glance down at the hem of my blazer, and shrug it off. If I’m sitting rink side for the damn home opener with Tamara and Lulu, I’m wearing this jersey proudly.

Draping the blazer in the crook of my arm, I smooth my hands over my hips—and then freeze when I hear footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder, and he’s already there.

Chase leans against the corridor wall, arms folded, his heated gaze locked on me. His eyes drop to the jersey, and his face sharpens.

“You took the tape off.”

I nod once, turning to face him. “I wanted to wear your name.”

He doesn’t move for a beat, just stares as if he’s recalculating his entire life around this moment. Then he pushes off the wall, and in two strides, he drags me to him. One hand cups my jaw as his mouth crashes onto mine, rough and desperate and so goddamn hungry it knocks the breath out of me.

I gasp against his lips, clutching his suit jacket, and he groans into my mouth like he’s been starved for days. Which, technically, he has.

“You’re not allowed,” he mutters, trailing hot kisses along my jaw, “to wear my name like that,sayshit like that, and then expect me to fucking behave.”

“PR said no PDA,” I manage, even as my fingers slide under his lapel, dragging him closer.

“Fuck PR.” His hand slips to my waist, dragging me flush against him. “You know what that jersey does to me? Four days without you, and now you’re walking around inmyname, wearing fuck-me pants and looking like a wet dream.”

I huff a breathless laugh. “Don’t you have a game to play?”

He nips at my bottom lip. “Gonna score just to get to my celly song faster.”

All I can do is scoff, still hungry for his lips on mine.

“I’m serious.” He drags his mouth to my pulse point. “And after the game, you’re keeping that jersey on while I fuck you in nothing else.”

“Chase,” I whisper, just to watch him lose it.

He groans again. “Keep calling me that, sweetheart, and I’ll do something highly illegal in this hallway.”

I hum a laugh, then press one more kiss to his lips before stepping back to collect as much composure as I can muster. He stands there, hands flexing at his sides in a way that makes me think he’s about to pounce again.

“Save it for the ice, big guy.”

He smirks. “You’re my ice.”

“Andyou’recringe.”

“You’re my goal, my reward, my—”

“Go away before I do something I’ll regret.”

His grin is dangerous as he bites his lip, then walks backwards down the hallway like he’s physically incapable of turning his back to me. “You look so fucking good in my name, Zo.”

I throw a look over my shoulder as I turn to leave.

“I know.”

Chapter twenty-nine

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