Page 93 of What About Us

Thankfully, no one wanted it this evening.

I’m thrilled to watch the game with my wildcat, and if the smile on her perfect face is anything to go by, she’s fucking excited.

She loaded up a plate of food—I love that she’s not afraid to eat—and ate it while asking me questions and watching the arena fill up from the privacy of our suite. There are two rows of seats in front of the box, where we’re now seated, ready to watch the game.

“People are looking at you,” she says and reaches for my hand.

“Nah, they’re trying to figure out who the bombshell redhead is.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles.

She snorts.

“Not likely.” She tips her head to the side. “Actually, they probably are trying to figure out who I am since I’m with you.”

“Does it bother you?”

The guys on the ice line up for the face-off, and my stomach clenches, but I keep my attention on my girl.

“Does what bother me?”

I turn to her and grin. “That people are watching us, and trying to figure out who you are, Red.”

“Nah.” She shrugs and sips her soda. “I mean, you know that I don’t love being the center of attention, but I’m with you. So it’s okay.”

This fucking girl.

“I want to fucking kiss you so goddamn bad,” I mutter in her ear, and I see her clench her thighs together. “Does that turn you on, sweetheart?”

“Literally everything you do turns me on. You know that, right? Also, I know that hockey is your main talent, but your voice is . . . yeah. It does things to me. You’re so good at the dirty talk, X.”

“Are we seriously doing this in my box at the game?”

She laughs and sips her drink again. “You started it. By the way, I love your penthouse. I didn’t tell you earlier.”

We’ve hardly been there today. We spent a couple of hours at the stadium, then we met up with Coop and Brit for lunch, and we went to Brit’s store so the girls could chat and Ivy bought about half a dozen books.

We only went back to the penthouse to change and then come straight here.

Which means I haven’t been inside my girl since last night, and that’s way too fucking long.

“We don’t have to stay for the whole game,” I tell her, and she frowns up at me, making me grin. “I’m just saying. We can stay if you want to. Seeing you in my jersey is fucking hot, by the way.”

“Isn’t it bad luck to leave early? Wait.” She eyes me, and a slow smile spreads over her face. “You don’t want to leave. You just want . . . you know.”

“No. I don’t know.” God, I love the banter with this girl. “Tell me.”

“You know.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” I turn my attention back to the ice. Cooper has the puck, passes, then gets it again and shoots it into the net, scoring the first goal of the night. “Attaboy!”

We stand and cheer, and I see that we’re on the big screen. There will likely be a lot of these shots tonight, putting our reactions up there for the fans to see.

As we sit back down, Ivy rests her hand on my thigh.

“If you’re dying for my cock, just say so, Red. I’ll take you home and fuck you on every surface.”

Ivy snorts. “Dying for it? You wish.”

But she shifts in her seat, as if she’s trying to ease an ache between her legs, and fuck.