The Wildcat (Playing to Win, #2)

by Bella Matthews

My gorgeous girl is safe and asleep and wrapped in my arms, where I’ll never let anything hurt her again. Not even me.

Never say you can’t do something. Say you haven’t done it yet. That yet is important.

“Rumor has it you haven’t been sleeping at the condo.” I blow out a breath. “Rumor, huh?” “Pesky things.”

“How hard are you going after him?” he asks, having no fucking clue of the lengths I’d go to. “If I could slice his neck with my skate and watch him bleed out in front of me on the fucking ice, I would. Since that’s not an option, I’ll have to settle for breaking him.”

“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. This is your family, Everly. And that makes them our family. Take it from someone who didn’t have family when I met the Sinclairs. You can never have too many people who love and accept and support you. Let me spoil my first grandchildren.”

“Mom,” my voice shakes, and Dad hisses. “Don’t make her cry, Annabelle.” “Shush, Dec. A mother’s job is to make their daughters cry,” she tells him.

“Hey. Can we back up to you happy crying because Jaxon’s going to be a momma’s boy and you’re going to be his momma?” His hand cups my jaw and pulls me toward him. “Because those may be my new favorite words.”

“I don’t want to wait until June to marry you, Cross.” “I’ll print you a schedule tomorrow. Pick a Saturday we don’t have a game and tell me where to be, baby. I’ll do whatever you want. I just need you, Kerrigan, and Jax.”

“Earth to blondie.” Ares snaps his fingers in front of my face. “You suck at poker. You know that, right?” “Kiss my ass, God of War. I believe that’s a royal flush.”

“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll get you off twice.” “We’re on the beach at eleven o’clock at night, Cross. We may not have ten minutes. Make them count.”

“It’s a good sex life.” Cross hands me a glass of wine. “It’s a great sex life,” I agree. “Oh my God. Stop. I’m begging you, evil twin. Please. You two are worse than Mom and Dad,”

I now consider being compared to my parents a compliment. I hope I’m still banging Cross’s brains out in an outdoor shower when we’re forty-five the way they got caught earlier today.

“Cocky,” I tease, just to hear him say . . . “Arrogance, baby. This is arrogance.” I fucking love his arrogance.