All You Need

  Annika kissed my cheeks. “I’m freezing my ass off. See you tomorrow night.”

  Ten

  ___

  ANNIKA

  Exhibition game night.

  I’d been to so many pro sporting events over the years I could’ve been one of those people who affected an air of boredom. But I was genuinely excited. I loved watching live sports. Being part of the crowd’s excitement. Feeling camaraderie with thousands of others over this one thing.

  There was nothing like it in the world.

  This was a new experience for me. In all the years I’d been around athletes, I’d never actually dated one. Not in high school or college. It hadn’t been a rebellious choice; I’d just naturally gravitated toward men involved in more intellectual pursuits. Guys who used brains instead of brawn.

  So showing up to the Xcel Center, wearing a team jersey with HAMMERQUIST on the back, was pretty awesome. Although when I made my way to the section that the players had reserved for family and friends, I had a sudden, rare bout of shyness.

  At Jensen’s games I was in familiar territory, surrounded by the Lund collective. Even at Jaxson’s games my aunt and uncle always had a skybox or the stadium’s equivalent, no matter which city the Blackhawks were playing in. Now I had to wonder if they’d purposely isolated themselves from the group section so they wouldn’t have to see the sheer number of their son’s female groupies.

  Except I wasn’t going to worry about that now. I wouldn’t even have to deal with it tomorrow afternoon at the barbecue Walker was hosting, since my aunt and uncle were in Chicago for Jaxson’s exhibition game tonight.

  I hadn’t asked Axl if he had plans tomorrow. I didn’t want it to be weird if I invited him to a family function, since we’d agreed that spending time together privately was a waste of time without PR benefits.

  But doesn’t your family believe you’re truly dating Axl? Then wouldn’t they expect you’d want to introduce him to them?

  This fake-relationship stuff turned out to be way harder to pull off than I’d imagined.

  I stopped at the top of the stairs and scanned the seating section below me.

  “Can I help you find your seat?”

  I glanced up at the security guard and showed him my ticket. “I’m in the right place?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Twelve rows down, right behind the glass.”

  “Thank you.”

  The arena hadn’t started to fill up yet. But from what I’d heard, there wouldn’t be much of a crowd. Exhibition games were more for the media than the fans. A chance to meet the new team, catch up on the hockey gossip including recent trades, review last year’s stats and this year’s predictions. This was the only time every player was interviewed during a press conference. I’d been shocked to read that Igor, the Russian hockey player recently traded from Chicago at the same time as Axl, was an up-and-coming hotshot goalie. Plus, Igor wasn’t his first name. His last name was Igorsky—no first name listed beyond the initial S.

  Five rows behind me was an entire section of puck bunnies. So when I heard, “Hey, isn’t she the one in that video . . . ?” I considered putting on my earmuffs to drown them out. And it was freakin’ cold down here, this close to the ice.

  “Ignore them,” a voice to the left of me said.

  I faced a brunette with a sweet smile who wore a heavy coat and gloves. “Thanks. I wondered if it was too soon to pull out the earmuffs.”

  She laughed. “Never.” She offered her hand. “I’m Leah. I’m with . . .” She turned around so I could read the name on the back of her coat: VANDERHAL.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m—”

  “Annika Lund.”

  That took me aback.

  She laughed again. “Sorry. It’s just you are an interesting piece of news in the Wild team world, Annika. Not only are you ‘The Rocket’s’ sister—and you know how this town feels about its football team and players—but you’re ‘Stonewall’ Jaxson’s cousin, so you probably own a closetful of Blackhawks jerseys. Now you’ve been seen across town cuddling up with Axl Hammerquist, and here you are, wearing his jersey.”

  The paper this morning had a short article on our quiet, romantic, intimate night out—complete with pictures. A shot of me feeding Axl a bite of my food and one of him bundling me up in his suit jacket.

  “I guess all of that is news.”

  “It’s the best kind of news if you can actually tame ‘The Hammer’ and encourage him to focus on getting the job done on the ice,” she added.

  “No pressure.”

  Another laugh. “Something tells me you’ll handle the pressure—and Axl—just fine.”

  I imagined the glint in Axl’s eyes if I ever used the word handle around him. “So, confession time for me, Leah. I’ve never dated a pro athlete.”

  “But you’re familiar with the game and the unspoken requirements about going off on the refs about shitty calls, yeah? Booing the opposing players if they’re called for a penalty. You boo louder if you see the penalty and the refs somehow miss it.”

  “Got it. What else?”

  “Just because we’re sitting close doesn’t mean we exist for the players. When they’re on the ice, they don’t give a damn what happens on the other side of the glass. So even if some douchebag from the Blackhawks”—she gave me a cheeky grin—“has your man pressed up against the glass right in front of you? And he’s bleeding, struggling and fighting? He doesn’t see you. So don’t take it personally.”

  “This has been an issue?”

  “Not for me. But for some new girlfriends, yeah. They jump up in the stands and shake their tits, and then get pissed when their efforts to get noticed are wasted. It’s a stupid vanity thing.” She jerked her thumb at the bunnies behind us. “They’re totally clueless about it. The guys who notice them aren’t on the ice. And the reason they’re not on the ice?”

  “Because they’re gawking around the arena instead of paying attention to the game,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Thanks for the insight, Leah.”

  “No problem.”

  A shadow fell across us. We both looked up to see a red-faced young man clutching a bucket of popcorn.

  “Please excuse me for a moment. My seat is down there.”

  We both stood and the gangly kid shuffled past. He left a seat between us. He stared at the empty rink and began to eat his popcorn.

  I turned toward Leah. “Do you travel to the away games?”

  “It depends. My husband, Linc, has been with other teams and I have friends in those cities. But traveling is stressful for him. Especially those long stretches. We miss each other, but I have my own life. I’m not just a hockey wife. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. Bunny lives for being the leader of the WAGs.”

  “Bunny?”

  “Ironic, isn’t it? Especially when she was a puck bunny who actually scored a player for more than one night. Fair warning: she’ll be here later. Prepare yourself to be interviewed to see if you’re worthy of the inner circle.”

  “And if I’m deemed worthy but decide that it’s not for me?”

  She laughed. “I’d like to see the look on Bunny’s face if you declined the golden ticket. I don’t believe that’s ever happened.”

  “Well, some bunny will be very disappointed when she learns that I’m not one to play follow-the-leader or follow someone else’s rules.” I flashed my teeth with a wide grin. “I’m used to being in charge in my day job. That doesn’t just go away when I slip off the heels and set down my laptop case.”

  Leah leaned over and addressed the gangly kid. “Mind sharing that popcorn with me later? Because this is gonna get interesting.”

  His eyes widened and he stammered, “S-sure. Would you care for some now?”

  “No. Later is fine.”

  I saw his gaze go to the name on my back and then he looked at me curiously. “You are Axl’s girlfriend, yah?”

  “Yes. You know him?” I asked his name—Relf—
and we chatted a bit longer.

  It wasn’t until I turned back to Leah and she said, “It’s so cool that you can communicate with Axl in his own language,” that I realized I’d been speaking Swedish with Relf. The switchover had become automatic, even more so with Axl than with my mother.

  Fans started to arrive. I had butterflies in my stomach. This game was important to Axl and I wished I could talk to him, even briefly, to gauge his mood.

  I asked Leah, “Do you ever see Linc before a game?”

  “You mean, like visit him in the locker room?”

  I nodded.

  “No. He’s a need-to-be-in-my-own-head guy before he hits the ice.”

  Just then Peter showed up. He stood two rows down in front of the still-empty seats. “Annika. I’m glad you’re here early. Axl would like to see you.”

  Guess that answered that about my boyfriend’s expectations.

  I followed Peter through a maze. A security guard blocked access where the hallway split into two sections. He studied Peter’s all-access pass. My lack of a lanyard earned me a scowl. “Without a pass she ain’t allowed back there.”

  “It’s an exhibition game. Her pass isn’t ready yet.”

  “Don’t care.”

  “Look, I understand you’re just trying to do your job, but ‘The Hammer’ wants a minute with her. She won’t venture into the locker room; they’ll stay in the hallway. I promise.”

  “Fine. You go fetch him. She stays here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Peter disappeared.

  Was I supposed to make small talk with this guy? I knew most of the security guards who worked the section of the Metrodome where the Lund skybox had been located. Before I opened my mouth, Axl barreled around the corner.

  My first thought was: That was fast.

  My second thought was: Holy fucking shit.

  Axl wasn’t completely suited up. He wore black thermal underpieces that molded to his body as if he had been vacuum-sealed into them.

  My hands went all grabby. My fingers itched to touch every ripple and bulge. Every deep-cut muscle and groove.

  “Annika,” he said on a half growl. After I tore my focus away from his chest and arms, it traveled up the thick column of his neck and over that divot in his strong chin—Do not stop to stare at that sexy mouth—and finally met his eyes.

  Lust was too tame a word for what I felt when our gazes connected.

  I remained rooted to the spot, the need to go to him so powerful that I feared it.

  But I wanted it.

  Peter walked past me—I think.

  Then in a nearly indecipherable, guttural tone, Axl said, “Come. Here.”

  I shook my head and said, “Back up. At least ten steps.”

  “Why?”

  “So no one can see when I throw myself at you.”

  His eyes went hotter yet.

  I launched myself at him.

  He caught me, spun me until my back hit the wall and his mouth landed on mine.

  My entire body began to tingle from the first touch of his lips. The kiss was hard. Hungry. More than a little desperate.

  His tongue sought mine. Every swirl, every lick, every deep suck was a revelation. A glimpse into this man’s passion. A glorious awakening into my own untapped physical desires. I knew, without a doubt, that he could fulfill every one.

  I thrust my hands into his hair and pulled, because I needed something to hold on to.

  That earned me a groan.

  When the kiss’s intensity tested the limits of sustainability, he kicked it down a notch.

  Axl realigned our lips, slowing the greedy, panting, openmouthed ravenousness. He gave me sweetness. Softness. A gentle sweep of his warm flesh against mine as our mouths clung to each other’s.

  I forced myself to break the kiss entirely and rested my forehead on his shoulder.

  He nuzzled my neck, his breathing equally erratic. “I needed to see you.”

  “Just think . . . we should’ve been doing that all along.”

  “Yes.” He planted kisses up my jawline to my ear. “We need to make up for lost time.”

  “God, it makes me hot when you whisper in my ear like that.”

  “I want to feel you burn, Annika.”

  “Axl.”

  “I want your mouth frantic on mine. Like it was.”

  Then he kissed me again.

  His tongue rubbed and stroked as he pressed the lower half of his body into mine, pinning me to the wall, freeing his hands. They circled my rib cage and slid up, his palms cupping the weight of my breasts as his thumbs found my nipples.

  Yes. Even through the heavy jersey fabric, I felt the warmth of his touch. The power in his big hands. The regret in his entire body when he said, “But I have to go.”

  “I know.”

  “I want to see you after the press conference. Will you wait for me?”

  “Yes.”

  Axl tipped my chin up and stared into my eyes. “Will you come home with me tonight?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He frowned.

  “I’m not playing games. We’ve known each other for a month, but we’ve only been on two official dates. This chemistry between us is . . . daunting. My strong attraction to you has taken me by surprise.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s uncharted territory for me, but it’s not for you.”

  The muscle in his jaw ticced, but he said nothing.

  “This isn’t a discussion we need to have now.” I kissed that rigid jaw and those tight lips until he yielded to me. A few flirty sugar bites and he was smiling again when he set me down.

  “Pound some faces into the boards tonight, Ax-kicker.”

  He laughed. “I like that one.” He disappeared down the hallway.

  Peter had waited for me by the exit. “Things are going well?”

  Maybe he hadn’t seen that knockout kiss. “I guess . . . ? I didn’t try to punch him during our dinner date.”

  “The pictures I saw online gave the impression that you two were very cozy. So good job. Axl must really be on his best behavior.”

  “Or maybe I am.”

  He smiled. “After the game ends, I’ll meet you back here and we’ll head to the press conference.”

  Half an hour passed before the teams took the ice.

  I avoided conversation with Leah and Relf, mostly because I