“No.” His smile was tight, worried. “Not anymore.”
I searched his face, wanting to reassure him, wanting him. “That woman did not deserve you.”
Light filled his eyes with a quiet happiness. “We were poorly suited. I was meant for you.”
“Kiss me.”
Lucian’s mouth twitched, but the tension left him. “There’s a lot of press around, Snoop. You okay with being seen as mine?”
“That depends. Are you okay with being seen as mine?”
His gloved hand slipped behind my neck to cup my nape. “I’ll wear a name tag declaring it if you want, honey.” He kissed me, soft and deep and long.
I felt it in my belly, in the clench of my chest that filled with both longing and satisfaction. My hands found the bulky pads of his shoulders, and I clutched his jersey as I kissed him back. It wasn’t until I heard a wolf whistle and Brommy’s familiar voice catcalling us that I eased back.
Lucian smiled at me, a private look that promised more later.
“You were terrific,” I said a little breathlessly, not willing to move away from him.
The corners of his mouth curled. “It was fun.” He gave the back of my neck a squeeze. “Come on; I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
A long carpet had been placed on the ice for people to walk on and say hello. Lucian led me to a group of guys, all of them towering over me in their skates. I met Lucian’s friends, the people who’d been such a huge part of his life.
It was clear that the guys loved and respected the hell out of him. They seemed to miss Lucian as much as Lucian missed them but were resigned to it. They’d all have to face the same someday.
A craggy, silver-haired man in his fifties came over to us.
“Em, this is Davis Rickman, my former coach. Rickman, this is . . .”
“Emma Maron. I watch your show religiously.” Rickman shook my hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Given that everyone here seemed to watch my show and felt the need to tell me, it was becoming a little easier to hear the praise. Whatever I did with the rest of my life, I’d entertained a good portion of people during my stint on Dark Castle. That was a reward in and of itself.
Rickman eyed Lucian. “You okay with the next half?”
Lucian might as well have been made of marble. “Of course.”
The next half was a show of running drills, trick shots, and what I thought of as fancy skating. Watching Lucian speed around maneuvering the puck was sexy as hell.
God, he was beautiful when he skated. Joyous but also focused, that stern expression and ice-green eyes making for a combo that had many fans calling out and whistling in sheer lust. I was one of them. But then, I got to go home with him.
Lucky me.
“He’s extraordinary, isn’t he?”
I turned to find Rickman standing next to me. “Yes.” But I wasn’t talking about hockey.
I didn’t like the way Rickman looked at Lucian, as though assessing every move he made. There was something covetous that rubbed me raw. “He was lucky to have a coach who knew to let him go.”
Rickman turned my way, his eyes half hidden under bushy brows. “It was his choice. Not mine.”
“You wanted him to stay?”
He shrugged. “Our hands were tied. But he’s still the best player I’ve ever coached. Hockey smarts like you dream about.”
I didn’t know what to say to that and went back to clapping when Lucian whizzed by.
“Really is a pity,” Rickman mused.
“He’s alive,” I snapped. “The pity would be if he died.”
Flat blue eyes peered at me from a face set in stubborn if not sorrowful lines. “Some players would tell you they were better off that way than to have a career cut short.”
Rage bubbled in my veins, but I managed to keep my tone cool. “Anyone who thinks that is a fool.”
Rickman merely shrugged and went back to watching the players. “I’m not the one you need to convince.”
Lucian
“So.” Emma smiled up at me as she wrapped her arm around my waist, and we left the stadium.
“So,” I repeated, biting back a grin. She was too adorable and felt perfectly right tucked up against me. Emma nudged my ribs, getting my ticklish spot, the evil woman.
I most definitely did not giggle. I grabbed her fiendish hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. “Did you have fun, Snoop?”
“Yes.” She leaned her head on my shoulder, humming. “You were spectacular. A truly phenomenal player.”
I’d been told that in so many different ways over the years that it had lost its meaning. But hearing the words fall from Emma’s pretty mouth, her tone reverential and filled with awe, had nothing but pure pride swelling up in my chest. I wanted to crow, strut . . . pick her up, and spin her around for the joy of making her smile and laugh.