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“Your secrets will always be safe with me, princess.”
“Thank you.”
“Can we go to bed now? I have four hours before I have to be up again.” I lead her over to the bed.
“I should go back to my room,” she says.
“Why?”
“So you can sleep.”
“If you leave, I won’t sleep a wink. Get in.” I hold the blankets back, waiting for her to climb under them.
Aliyah pulls her dress over her head, reaches behind her back, and removes her bra. My eyes greedily take in the view she’s giving me. As soon as she’s in bed, I hop in next to her and cover us with the blankets. We’re both silent as I pull her into me, resting her head on my shoulder as my hand runs up and down her back.
“Liam.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t ever risk your career for me again. I don’t want to live with that kind of guilt,” she says.
“Okay,” I agree. What I don’t tell her is that if it’s a choice between her and hockey, I think I might just choose her. The fact she’d never ask me to choose, that just makes me love her all the more.
I love hockey. Live and breathe it. But Aliyah…? Whenever I’m with her, I feel like I’ve just scored the shootout goal in a Stanley Cup game. It’s a high I’ve only ever felt on the ice, something I’ve been chasing my whole life. Now, I have it right here in my arms and I don’t plan to ever let it go.
“Do you think we’re a little insane? This is crazy fast. I don’t even know what your favorite color is,” she says.
“Brown, the color of your eyes. That’s my favorite color,” I tell her, and feel her body relax and her breathing even out. That’s when I close my eyes and let sleep take over.
* * *
Me:
Are you going to watch the game?
Aliyah:
Yes, my friends own a box. I’ll be sitting up there with them.
Me:
Friends? What friends?
Aliyah:
Just family friends. No one important.
Coach yells something in my direction, and I throw my phone into the locker before following the guys out through the tunnel. We’re playing our first away game against the New York Bobcats. They’re a good team, but we’re better.
I skate out onto the ice for warm-ups and my eyes immediately search the box windows. I find Aliyah standing close to the glass, watching the rink. Then I spot the four guys surrounding her.
“Gray,” I call out. He skates over, shaving the ice up before stopping in front of me. “Who is that with your sister?” I ask him.
Gray follows my line of sight, his glare landing on Aliyah right as one of the assholes wraps his arm around her shoulder. I see fucking red, and an insane amount of jealousy overwhelms me. I don’t know what to do. I want to walk up there and rip the fucker’s arm off his fucking body.
“The Valentino brothers, friends of the family,” Gray says and then looks back at me. “Why?”
“No reason.”
