Rhea’s reaction wasn’t much different—her chest rising on a deep inhale, gaze dropping to my mouth, then lower, as if she knew damn well what describing all that had done to me.
I felt the shift in my body. A rush of heat. A throb I couldn’t hide under all my hockey gear if I tried.
“I never thought I’d go to a place like that,” I admitted honestly. “Let alone take a date there.”
Goldie stepped a little closer to my side, and her voice softened around the edges. “But you picked it for me?”
“I picked it because I thought you’d love it.” I said, the truth clear as day in my voice. “And because I want to see you in that kind of light.”
Her breath caught.
Rhea watched us both, something sharp and hungry flickering across her features.
And that—that—was when everything inside me settled. Strengthened. Tightened.
Because the third period wasn’t just about bragging rights. It wasn’t just the final round of our game. It wasn’t just another way to tease each other now. The winner of the third period got the date. The whole thing.
Goldie, all alone for hours, surrounded by sensuality and temptation.
And fuck. I wanted that.
I wanted that so badly.
I felt my jaw set, my pulse pounding, and the world narrowed to the feel of the ice under my blades along with the heat of Goldie’s gaze on my skin.
“I hope you’re both ready,” I said, voice dropping. “Because I’m not losing this.”
Goldie’s cheeks flushed darker, squirming just slightly on her feet, so that I knew she was clenching her thighs on her side of the boards. She didn’t need to be subtle, not with me, not with Rhea. God help me, I lived for her openness.
She tilted her head, a sweet, wicked smile curling at her lips. “Period three,” she said. “The final challenge. All or nothing.”
Rhea and I both straightened as the whistle blew behind us. We were hungry. We were competitive. But most of all, we were desperate for the same prize.
Goldie’s fingers grazed her bottom lip as she finalized the bet. “The winner gets to take me to the burlesque restaurant.”
My blood roared. I didn’t care how tired I was. I didn’t care how hard Rhea played. I didn’t care that my legs shook from the excitement.
I was going to win.
I needed to win.
Because no imaginary fantasy would beat the real-life experience of seeing Goldie sitting next to me in a velvet booth,dim lights framing her sweet curves, lingerie and champagne all around us, her hand sliding up my thigh as dancers moved around us.
For us.
I needed that night with her.
And I’d fight for it.
Harder than I’d ever fought for anything. Even against Rhea.
The final periodof the game started with my heart already in my throat. I tried to stand still and look neutral, or even like I was actually enjoying myself. I tried to pretend I wasn’t about to melt right onto the ice as I watched Rhea and Tanner flirt and literally dry hump each other across the ice.
But God, I was useless.
Electricity shimmered under my skin as soon as they lunged for the puck. Every hit, every shove, every tight pivot made my thighs clench. They weren’t being gentle, not like they each were with me, they weren’t even pretending to be anything but what they were.
Raw.