Page 61 of Ice Wolf
Finally, after what seemed like way too long, the fight was dragged into control. Saint and Rocco snarled at each other again, both puffing their chests out and acting like… beasts.
“What now?” I yelled over the roar.
“There will be reporters and an after-party, I guess. You are invited. Right?”
It was another gritting my teeth moment. Saint had laid out the night to a point, telling me I’d be escorted to the locker room after the game. This was supposed to be our big moment. I hated every second of being shoved into the limelight, but there was nothing I could do.
The late afternoon phone call from my father had reiterated my purpose for this assignment. And in his eyes up to this point I’d failed miserably. Yes, there’d been some decent trending on socials about who the mystery girl was and other comments like ‘Is the hottest bachelor on Earth finally taken?’, but that hadn’t been enough to sway the more brutal comments about his wolfgate.
That’s what my father had called it. Wolfgate. What a load of…
My eyes opened wide. “Did he just blow me a kiss?” I leaned forward as Saint spun around and it would appear he was gesturing toward me.
Vicky leaned in as well, our shoulders bumping. “Um. Yes. He did. Don’t look now but I think he’s coming your way.”
“Oh, no. I need to get out of here.” I tried to back into the crowd, but she grabbed my arm.
“No, you don’t. You’re going to stand right her like a dutiful girlfriend. If he’s going to do what I think he’s going to do, the secret rabbit will be totally pulled from the hat.”
“What are you talking about? This isn’t magic unless it’s black magic.”
“Miss cynical,” she muttered, her eyes opening wide as Saint zigged and zagged across the ice and there was no doubt he was heading directly for me.
The crowd continued to go wild, their sweaty bodies pressing me forward. When the Savage gracefully skidded to a stop right in front of me, there wasn’t a rock big enough to crawl under.
Every aspect of the moment was once again forced into slow motion, the chanting sounds dulled in my mind since the only thing I could hear was the wild thudding of my heart.
He grinned, his eyes locking on mine. The moment was caught by thousands of spectators and I calculated in my mind how many pictures would be posted in ten seconds flat. Even worse, the Videotron and every screen were highlighting the painful moment.
“You are a star, baby girl,” Vicky said from beside me.
This didn’t make me a star. This made me some kind of crazy martyr. All I could think about was how much of a lie this truly was. As soon as he winked, I heard a collective gasp.
But he wasn’t going to stop there. Oh, no. The showman with the wicked and flashing eyes, a body made of steel, and perfectly tousled hair as if he’d just crawled out of bed.
After a hot, long, and rough round of passion.
With me.
The lump in my throat increased. When he grabbed his jersey, I narrowed my eyes. “What is he doing? Undressing?”
“Sort of,” Vicky giggled.
“What do you mean sort of? Here? I don’t need to see his sweaty body.”
“Well, I do and so does every other woman in the arena. That’s not what he’s doing.” Vicky was already squealing.
With the jersey off, my gaze slid to his incredible pecs and the beads of sweat glistening on his abdomen. Holy shit, the throbbing between my legs was intense. Wait. Did I smell desire? As in my panties were soaked?
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the jersey. Right at me. Which I caught. Against my better judgment.
“Yes!” Vicky clapped. The crowd went wild. Suddenly more people were on the ice, reporters heading in his direction. Saint didn’t have a chance to move. He stood only inches away from me, his eyes crazed with desire. There was no doubt the meaning of the soulful look he was giving me.
He was hungry. Famished.
And so was I.
“What does this mean?” I managed, although the sound was more like croaking.
