Page 123 of If You Claim Me
“What about Meems?”
“She went to a friend’s to play bridge, which means I get time with my wife.” He kisses me again. “Are you hungry?”
“For food or you?”
“Food first. You can have me later.”
“Such a meanie.”
“So awful that I want to make sure you’re nourished before I take you to bed and make you come until you’re delirious.”
I nod solemnly. “The absolute worst.”
He smiles and I laugh, relieved that the time apart hasn’tchanged things and glad for the break from the incessant worry. We unpack the takeout containers and settle in to eat. My appetite has been off since the day his father stopped by the library, but Connor went to the trouble to get all my favorites, and he’s right—I won’t be able to focus on anything if I don’t eat.
“How was practice?” I pour dressing on my mango salad.
“It was good. This season feels different.” Connor spoons tamarind curry over his rice.
“Different how?” I ask.
He taps his chopsticks on the edge of his plate. “Like I’m part of the team.”
My heart squeezes. “And you haven’t felt that way with the Terror before?”
“I haven’t felt that way anywhere before,” he admits.
“Not even when you were playing for New York?”
He shakes his head. “Having Kodiak on my side made it easier, especially since he was the team’s golden boy, but I was still a problem. And then I was traded to Toronto and became even more of a problem.”
“Because of Flip.”
“Partly. But I have a reputation for pushing people’s buttons, on and off the ice. I’m a good distraction.”
“What’s changed?” I ask, keeping my voice casual. He’s opening up, letting me in.
He drops his head, eyes on his plate. “I want to be more than that.” Connor clears his throat. “My entire life I’ve played this part. I’ve always been the outsider. It’s all I’ve ever known, on and off the ice.”
“But not anymore?” My stomach flips and twists. These feelings I have for Connor keep growing.
“My parents believe I chose this career to spite them, and I’ve fed into the belief that all I can be is the bad guy. But I want to leave more than a legacy of problematic behavior. I want to deserve my place on my team, and it’s not just me who’s affected anymore.”
“You mean Meems?”
“I mean you. If you have to be married to me, at least you can be married to a player whose team doesn’t hate him.”
I set my plate aside and take his from him, moving it to my desk. I shift from my chair and settle in his lap, linking my fingers behind his neck. “My sweet villain.”
“Not sweet at all. I want these things for entirely selfish reasons.”
“And what reasons are those?”
“It makes you soft for me.” He threads his fingers through my hair and kisses the edge of my jaw.
“Putty in your evil, plotting hands,” I agree.
He pulls my mouth to his and licks inside.
