Tate looked back at Rafe and lifted his hand in a fist for a bump. “We’re good?”
A hot rock bottomed out in the pit of Rafe’s stomach, but he met Tate’s knuckles with his own. And as Tate passed toward the physical therapist’s office, Rafe continued into the gym with all thoughts of hooking up with Mia again fading to black.
Mia’s hands curled into fists against her thighs as she watched Rafe scrap with a Flyer to unlock a puck from between his skate blades and the boards. Finally, Rafe worked the puck loose and followed it in a circle back toward the goal, but with three Flyers on his ass, he passed to Tate.
Mia cut a look at the clock. There was only a little over two minutes left in the game and the Rough Riders were up two to one. They were going to win, Mia had no doubt. What she really wanted was for Rafe to get a hat trick tonight. Wanted it so bad, she could taste it. He’d been the only player to score all game, and one more goal would earn him a hat trick in the Cup playoffs—a memory he would cherish forever.
As the Rough Riders continued to hash out a shot on the ice, Mia’s mind flashed to the night before. To that moment of anticipation when Rafe’s cock had pressed against her entrance. To the passion in his eyes, his barely controlled lust, and his deliberate pause to make sure she was looking into his eyes when he took her for the first time.
“Look at me, Mia. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life.”
Her chest squeezed, but she didn’t have time to savor the moment.
Eden, Beckett’s girlfriend, grabbed Mia’s arm. “Rafe’s got it!”
Mia re
focused on the ice and found Rafe breaking away from the Flyers, approaching the opposing team’s goal all alone. She shot to her feet and cheered at the top of her lungs along with Eden. As he neared the goal, Mia stopped clapping, clasped her hands at her chest, and held her breath.
Approaching the goal, he faked left. Faked right. Then flipped the puck past the goalie’s arm. It cleared the pipes and hit the net.
Score.
Mia and Eden threw their hands overhead and screamed along with the other fifteen thousand fans filling the stadium. Lights flashed, buzzers and alarms sounded, smoke poured from the ceiling.
Excitement surged through Mia. She couldn’t stop grinning as she watched Rafe shake his stick with triumph. Or as he slid into a circle with his other four teammates to congratulate each other on a job well done. Or as he turned and skated along the wall and bumped gloves with all his other teammates lined up at their bench.
Baseball hats of every color fell from the stands like confetti. And while the ice girls gathered the hats from the ice so the teams could finish out the last thirty seconds of the game, Rafe skated past Mia’s seat section. His head turned toward the stands, and his smile was electric. His gaze locked on Mia, and he tilted his hockey stick toward her with the slightest nod of acknowledgment.
That’s all you, baby.
Mia could read the thoughts behind his eyes as well as if he’d whispered them in her ear. The way he’d murmured the night before after their last round of sex before he’d fallen asleep. “I’m gonna play like a motherfucker on fire tonight.”
Mia’s breath caught. Emotion swelled in her heart.
“Did he start the game with a black eye?” Eden’s question drew Mia’s gaze as the game started again. “I swear I didn’t notice it earlier, and he didn’t fight tonight.”
Mia refocused on the ice and searched for Rafe, but he was moving way too fast to see his face. He certainly hadn’t had one last night. And they might have gotten playful and even a little rough in bed—something that shot sparks through her every time she remembered—but she hadn’t given him a black eye. “I didn’t notice.”
“Must be fresh,” Eden said with the confidence of someone in the medical field. She’d recently completed her paramedic training and had met Beckett on this very ice because of an injury. “Sometimes a hematoma can take a few hours to show through the skin as a bruise.”
The end-of-game buzzer sounded with another round of playoff wins for the Rough Riders, winning them the division title and pushing them closer to the Cup
“Come on.” Eden pulled on Mia’s arm. “Let’s go stake our claim at Top Shelf.”
Mia started from the stadium with Eden, but she had mixed feelings about seeing Rafe tonight for a dozen different reasons. Last night had not been what she’d expected. Or even what she’d wanted. In fact, last night had done absolutely nothing to relieve her desire for Rafe. Nor had it put sex with him into the ordinary, I-can-get-that-anywhere category. And now, after what was, hands down, the most intense, most loving, most all-around amazing night of her life, she had to admit that sex with the man she loved was very, very different from sex with someone she cared for.
And that was a huge problem when she was headed across the country in a little over a week.
One thing was sure, she’d stuck to her pattern of screwing things up with the men in her life.
But she should go. If for no other reason than to put even footing beneath them now that their night was over. He’d been sleeping so hard when she’d left for breakfast, she hadn’t wanted to wake him. She’d also known waking him would have made her late. And watching him sleep, knowing it would probably be the last time in her life she’d ever have that level of intimacy with him, had torn her up inside.
So she should go to Top Shelf, say hello, talk a little, and show him that she was holding to her agreement. That there was no reason for them to feel awkward around each other. Maybe, with time and distance, her feelings for him would dim. Maybe, someday, she could look back on these years of unrequited love with fond memories. She’d learned from her childhood that time might not eradicate pains from the past, but it did dull them.
As she and Eden moved through the crowd toward the exit doors and spilled onto the blocked streets of downtown DC, Mia wondered about Rafe’s black eye. He’d never had issues with any of his teammates. Even as much as Kilbourne irritated Rafe, he’d always been respectful and loyal. While he fought on the ice, he’d never fought off it. Not even in high school. Tate, on the other hand…
But Rafe would never have told Tate about him and Mia. Rafe cared too much about Tate’s friendship and Joe’s respect. Rafe cared too much about his teammates and their relationship and getting his team to the Cup.