Page 101 of Sin Bin Daddies
I watch her, stomach twisting at the way she fits into my space like she never left.
Asher drops into a chair. “So. We talking about this or…?”
Madeline exhales, looking between us. Then she walks over, settling herself onto my lap like it’s the most natural fucking thing in the world.
I wrap an arm around her waist.
“Are we really doing this?” she asks, voice quieter now.
Ford watches her for a long second, then nods. “Yeah, Maddie. We are.”
Asher leans back, giving me a look. “You good with this?”
I squeeze her hip. “More than good.”
Madeline relaxes against me, something unspoken settling between all of us.
Breakfast continues, filled with easy conversation and teasing. And even though this is still new, still complicated ashell, I can’t shake the feeling that, for the first time in years, I have exactly what I want.
Exactly who I want.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Madeline
Winning looks good on them.
The Miami Icemen are on fire. The past month has been a whirlwind of dominance on the ice and filth behind closed doors, and I don’t know which part I like more.
Probably the part where they ruin me every night.
But the winning? That’s pretty damn satisfying, too.
We’ve taken down the Tampa Bay Barracudas, crushed the Dallas Strikers, and wiped the ice with the New York Storm. The team is playing like a fucking machine, and I know it’s because of Leo.
He’s a hard-ass as coach, pushing them, making them better, drilling strategy into their heads until it’s second nature.
He studies the other teams like it’s war, figures out weaknesses, exploits them. When he’s on the bench, he’s locked in, barking orders, commanding the ice like he owns it.
And then after the game?
I’m his.
I still wear the Icemen mascot suit, running around, hyping up the crowd, keeping the energy high. But once the final buzzer sounds and the win is locked in, I know exactly what’s coming.
It always starts in the locker room.
I try to be professional. Really, I do. But the second the door closes and the last player heads for the showers, Leo backs me against the wall, eyes dark, voice rough.
“You look good in that mascot uniform, Madeline,” he murmurs, palming my ass. “But you’d look better out of it.”
And then it’s hands, lips, heat. He works me open with his mouth, his fingers, drags me over the edge until I’m shaking.
Sometimes, Ford and Asher join. Sometimes, it’s Leo alone. But it always ends with me wrecked.
Every. Damn. Time.
The days are just as good as the nights.
