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“Shit, sorry,” I said before he could make a big deal about me wearing the other team’s jersey.
“Let’s go before your gawking creates an angry mob.” Mia laughed beside me and tugged me down the stairs, ignoring the grunt of protest from the painted man as we cut in front of him.
“I wasn’t gawking.”I totally was.“I was just figuring out the arena.”
“Sure you were. You look like a kid at Disneyland.”
I hopped down the stairs behind her, trying to keep up. “It’s just bigger than I expected.”
The corner of her lip raised at my words, and I cut her off. “Whatever you’re about to say, just stop.”
“You’re no fun.” She stopped at the bottom row, practically pressed up to the glass, and glanced at our tickets. “Row 1, seats 2 and 3. This is us.”
A young security guard hurried down the stairs. “I’m sorry, girls, but you can’t sit here.”
Mia looked as confused as I was. “O-kay.Why is that?”
“This row is player-reserved seating only. There should’ve been a sign on it,” she said, looking down the aisle as if she thought it would magically appear. “I’m not sure what happened to it.” Her voice came out stronger. “I’m sorry, but you really can’t sit here.” Her hands wrung together in front of her, and her eyes shifted with discomfort.
A loud thump came from the glass behind me, and I turned to face a scowling Jax. His gaze was pinned on my half-turned back. When his gaze met mine, I mouthed, “What?” but he just shook his head.
The security guard piped up, attempting to speak loud enough for him to hear her through the quarter-inch gap between the protective glass panels. “I’m so sorry, Jax. I was just telling them that the team holds these seats on reserve for friends and family.”
“It’s okay, Steph. They’re with the team. From now on, treat them like they’re one of us.”
Shock registered across her face. It was clear she wasn’t expecting that. She gave me a sidelong glance, obviously trying to size me up, and then a moment of recognition crossed her face.
Great…
Steph left, glancing back at us a few times before snapping a pic of me with her phone. I was about to say something, but Jax knocked on the glass again and gestured to me to walk toward the back of the rink.
I followed him to the last bend in the rink. He pointed down to a steel handle on my side of the boards. Realizing it was a door, I shoved down on the handle, and it swung in toward me.
Jax didn’t give me time to move out of the way before crowding me and ripping off his helmet.
“Off, now,” he commanded, glaring at my jersey.
I glanced around, but there was no one this far back in the arena. “Jax, it’s a bit cold to not have a jersey.”
He raised a brow. “Do you have a shirt under it?”
I nodded in response, trying hard to keep the smile off my face. I knew he’d be pissed about the jersey, but this was so much more.
“Good. Take it off.”
A thrill rolled through me, and I fought to keep the tremble from showing. He was even taller wearing his skates. I smirked. “What if I don’t want to take it off?”
“Sidney, do not fuck with me right now. Take. It. Off.” He growled the words, and tingles traveled down my spine.
I lifted the jersey over my head and immediately wrapped my arms around my chest from the chill. Jax reached back and pulled his jersey over his head, leaving him in just his pads. I swallowed hard and took it when he pushed it into my hands. “You don’t wear anyone’s number but mine.”
I sucked in a breath, doing my best to ignore the thrill his words created, and my skin pebbled for an entirely new reason. Not sure how to react to his display of possessiveness, I tugged it over my head and let his jersey engulf me. He leaned forward, close enough that all I had to do was lean in and we’d be kissing in front of everyone, but he wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he patiently rolled up each of my sleeves, revealing my wrists.
Jax leaned back, giving me an appreciative look, and his tongue wet his bottom lip. “You look good wearing my name, Trouble.”
Instead of acknowledging his words, I scrunched my nose up at the smell of his gear. That didn’t stop me from taking another breath. “You smell gross.”
He hauled me into a tight hug and buried my face in his chest, ignoring my pitiful attempt to break free. “You like it.”
