The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey, #3)

by Odette Stone

“You’re the only one.” I started my car, cursing inwardly as it sputtered before starting. “Only one what?” “Who knows the code to my house.” “Bullshit.” “It’s true.” “I don’t believe that for a second.” “I don’t bring my… friends back to my place.” I paused, processing that statement. “Please stop telling me this shit.”

He’s a hockey player. I hate hockey players.

“You should get in there.” “I will.” But he didn’t move. Instead, he stood there, looking at me. “You don’t like me.” “Don’t take it personally.” “Why not?” “Why shouldn’t you take it personally?” “Yeah.” “Because you’re you and I’m me.” “That’s not an answer.” “Well, that’s the answer you’re getting.” “You’re like a baby Krista, all teeth and claws.” “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

dropped my gaze from his face because sometimes he was so beautiful that it hurt to look at him.

“And?” Her voice was impatient. Out of my peripheral, I could see Charlie lift her shot glass and toss it back. I don’t know why that impressed me, but it did.

A familiar Russian voice spoke, sounding bored. “Let her go.”

“If you’re wearing my ring, you’re mine. Not to be touched by anyone.” You’re mine. Those

Oh my God. Mica was about to kiss me. At first, it was a chaste kiss. Lips only. My eyes fluttered shut as his warm mouth moved against mine. It tasted of beer and drowned out the wild cheers. I clutched his forearms, reveling in the sensation of his mouth moving against mine. He lifted his mouth and my eyes fluttered open. “You taste so good,” he growled. He spun me around, so his back was to the crowd, sheltering me from everyone. I was dimly aware of the growing, deafening cheers. One of his arms snaked around my back, yanking me hard against him, holding me tight while his mouth came down again on mine. This was no chaste kiss. This was Mica-style passion that short-circuited my brain. His kiss was pure lust, hot temptation and a wicked promise of what he wanted to do to me.

And then he smiled, one of those fucking fabulous smiles that changed his face.

The audacity of this dude was almost unbelievable. My voice cut like a whip. “Not sure how that is any of your fucking business.” He shrugged, completely unfazed by my tone. “Charlie needs—” I cut him off. “What my wife needs is none of your concern.”

She gave a half-laugh. “Sniper refuses to let Andrew touch him. Every time Andrew tries to pet him, he just backs away or ducks his head.” Smart fucking dog. “That’s weird.”

“You’re mine,” I told her. “You’re my wife, and this body is mine.”

We had crossed a line tonight that couldn’t be uncrossed, and I didn’t give a fuck.

It turned me on when I whispered in her ear, “Your body is mine now. It’s mine to fuck.” My words caused a deep shiver to wrack her body. With satisfaction, I pulled her tighter. “Go to sleep.”

“Jealousy can enhance the flavor of the dish, but too much and it spoils the meal.”

“Love looks good on you, Mica.” I responded in Russian. “I think the vodka is hurting your vision.” She laughed and shook her

Jasper sniffed hard and swallowed, looking at Mica for the first time. “You weren’t exaggerating how hot Mica the Savage is. For years you talked about him and his looks, but I never really understood what you meant until now.”

Mica looked at me, his face amused. “Two years, hey? What else did she say?” I squeezed Jasper’s hand hard in a warning. Which he ignored. “She’d always give me these detailed updates about when you came into the office. And she was usually pissed about something you did. It was totes obvious she had the hots for you. Which she denied.”

Mica’s smile broadened. “The fact that she was pissed about something tells me this story is true.” My neck and ears began to burn. “Jasper has a tendency to exaggerate.” Mica geared down to a red light and then tilted his head at me. “Why Mica the Savage?” Oh shit. “No reason.” Jasper talked over me. “Once she mentioned that she thought you’d be a savage in bed, and the name stuck.” I needed him to stop talking. “Jasper tends to overshare when he’s drunk.” Mica looked with interest in the review mirror at Jasper. “I think we should drink some vodka together.”

Jasper slow-clapped, and Charlie buried her face into my arm. And then my mom said, in the driest of voices, “I’m not sure about you guys, but I definitely need a cigarette after that.” She winked at Charlie and jokingly wagged her finger at me, before she turned and disappeared outside.

“Are you okay?” I shook my head. “No.” My answer pulled her out of her sleep. “What can I do?” I worked and failed to keep the husky emotion out of my voice. “Let me hold you.” She snuggled deep against me. “Is that it?” “That’s everything.”

He yanked the necklace hard, snapping the thin chain. It now hung broken on his fingers, no longer around my neck. His possessiveness made my knees weak with lust, because in some fucked-up way, it showed that he cared.

“You know what you are? You’re not a puck bunny. You’re a bunny boiler. You’re the crazy chick who stalks people.”

You have no new messages. I stood up and started to walk towards the door. There she was. A vision in floating purple. She looked so fucking beautiful that I thought I was hallucinating. I rubbed one eye. Maybe I was. Maybe I was more drunk than I thought.

He shouted in Russian when he came before landing on the bed beside me. He was breathing hard. I was breathing harder.

My husband. I studied his beauty, taking in his messy hair and dark stubble, loving the thickness of his arms that crossed over his muscular chest. How had I gotten so lucky to have this man in my life? As if he could sense my stare, he opened his eyes and his face broke into a gorgeous smile.

I stared at him. “If he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have gotten in trouble with Mark.” I thought about it. “Which means you wouldn’t have had to marry me.” He swept me into his arms. “Do I really have Detective Wallace to thank for all of this?” “I’m the inconvenience he caused.” “This marriage was the best inconvenience of my life.” I smiled up at him. “Now what?” He smiled back. “Now we start the rest of our lives.”

“Hockey is life, right?” He grinned. My wife is my life. “You know it.”

“Excuse me,” I said. “Have you seen my wife?” Her eyes sparkled with laughter. “Not sure. What does she look like?” “She’s ridiculously cute, and she has a smart mouth on her. More importantly, she hates hockey.” She laughed. “Smart girl. She married a hockey player?”