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luca

I thought I was in love with her before she got herself thrown in jail at the stadium—but now I’m in love with her more. Any woman that’s willing to be on the jumbotron, before getting mock-arrested, must be head-over-heels in love.

I am a goner.

Putty in her hands.

“Tell me again,” I murmur, lathering shampoo in my hands as she turns her back to me beneath the spray. “What exactly made you want to break into the penalty box?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Her voice is all silk and sunshine as she runs her hands over her breasts, drawing my gaze down her body.

I hum, dragging my hands through her hair, slow and steady, letting my fingers tangle at the ends before smoothing them down again. “You were that desperate to tell me you loved me?”

“Of course I was.” She shrugs. “You weren’t answering my texts. I didn’t know if you’d ever talk to me again. So yes—I was desperate.”

“Guess I’m not the only one who’s romantic.”

She turns in my arms, water sluicing between us, cheeks pink and slick, eyes shining like she’s got secrets she hasn’t told me yet.

“I meant every word,” she whispers, and I believe her with everything I’ve got.

“You turned my worst game into the best night of my life,” I say, brushing a wet strand of hair off her cheek.

Then I tilt her chin up and kiss her—slow and firm. No more questions, no more fears. Just skin, steam, and the girl who broke into the penalty box because she couldn’t stand not telling me she loved me.

We part, barely, and she raises a brow. “You keep looking at me like that,” she warns, “and we’re never making it to bed.”

“Fun fact,” I murmur, grinning. “I’ve never had shower sex.”

She blinks. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Her lips twitch. “Neither have I.”

“Oh?”

She tilts her head, mock-inspecting the space like she’s an interior designer doing risk assessment. “It seems dangerous. You know—logistically.”

I snort. “Dangerous how?”

“Well,” she says, spinning slowly so her back’s against the tile again, “this entire shower is floor-to-ceiling tile. Slippery as hell. What if you drop me?”

Drop her? “Can’t you just bend over and let me do you from behind? Low center of gravity. Less risk of injury. It’s a win-win for us both.”

She squints up at me, biting her lip in mock-disapproval, but her eyes tell me otherwise. She’s excited. “This is what I get for dating an athlete. You’ve turned sex into a tactical maneuver.”

“Wrong,” I say, bracketing her hips and letting my hands slide down the backs of her thighs. “You like it.”

She presses her lips together like she’s trying not to smile. Like she’s fighting the grin—and losing. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” I lift a brow .

Her eyes flick to my mouth. “Fine. Yes. I like it.”

“Thought so.”

I dip down, letting my mouth graze her neck, just below her ear, where I already know she’s soft. Her fingers immediately find my shoulders—clutching, anchoring.

“Luca…” she warns, but it’s breathy and loose, not even close to convincing.

I nudge my nose along her jaw. “Hmm?”

“You keep doing that and I’m going to?—”

“What?” My voice is low now. Teasing. “Lose control?”

She lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a moan. Her hands find my chest, sliding down to my abs, fingers lingering like she’s trying to decide how much mischief she can get away with.

The answer? All of it.

I hold her by the hips and turn her so she’s facing the wall, hands braced on the tiled bench, bending forward as water pummels me in the back.

She arches back against me, fingers flexing.

Nova spreads her legs, sexy, round ass thrusting in the air so I can fit myself inside her from behind.

My cock is so fucking hard …

She glances over her shoulder, smug and gorgeous and a little breathless. “What? You’re the one who said ‘low center of gravity.’ I’m just following the game plan.”

I let out a low, strangled laugh. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I ruin you.”

Delicious.

I want to eat her up, eat her out, and fuck her until the next game day .

Nova reaches through her legs and reaches for my dick, guiding me toward her pussy; placing me where she wants me to push, and I ease forward, sliding into her.

Slowly.

Surely .

So wet.

So tight.

God, I missed this…

And God willing, we have way more fucking in our future.

The water splashes as I slam into her, slapping sounds echoing in the tiled enclosure.

I place a hand at the small of her back; grip her hips to steady myself. Nova is hot and slick and perfect , and I have to fight every primal instinct to go slow—the last thing I want is to rush.

I lower my head, pressing my lips between her shoulder blades, letting them linger there. “Tell me if it’s too much,” I murmur, my voice a rasp against her skin.

“Harder…” she gasps, bracing harder against the wall. Head hanging. Hair falling in wet coils.

Motherfucking sexy…

Raw in the best way.

Every thrust I give her is a confession—every moan she gives me is a reward.

A five-star review of my hard dick.

And when she starts to tremble… when her fingers slip a little on the bench, I don’t let her fall. I hold her tighter. Move with her. Until there’s nothing but heat and pressure and the sweet, desperate rhythm of us.

We both come—first Nova, then myself, breathing heavily, holding steady for several seconds before I slowly slide myself out.

“Welp.” I hear her sigh, eyes still focused to the ground. “The good news is, I don’t have to wash up.”

I shiver, nerve cells on high. “Shower efficiency. We’re eco-conscious heroes.”

She snorts, then immediately cringes. “Oh. Don’t make me laugh—Mavis is too sensitive.”

Two minutes later, when I’m wrapping her in a towel and patting her down, she’s purring like a kitten, begging to snuggle.

We collapse in a mess of limbs and damp hair, both of us boneless and warm beneath the sheets. She slides one of my pillows under her arm and sighs like it’s the first real breath she’s taken all day.

“You smell like eucalyptus,” she murmurs, nosing into my chest, hand stroking my stomach.

We’re quiet for a beat—until both our phones buzz at the exact same time on the nightstand.

Then again.

And again.

Nova groans, fishing for hers with a blind hand. “Ugh. If this is Gio, I swear to God?—”

“It’s not Gio,” I say, scrolling through my notifications. “It’s everyone .”

Sure enough—Instagram is blowing up.

TikTok is on fire.

The clip of Nova bursting into the penalty box has gone viral, the power move of storming the penalty box and demanding I let her in seems to be an anthem for women everywhere.

“Penalty Box Proposal.” I laugh, reading several of the hashtags out loud to her.

“It wasn’t a proposal!”

We both pause.

Then—

“WE’RE A MEME,” Nova screeches, holding up her phone. “Holy shit—look. I’ve always wanted to be a meme! Listen to this caption: ‘When your girlfriend goes to hockey jail to tell you she loves you—peak romance.’ ”

“I mean—they’re not wrong.” I put my hand on her bare thigh and stroke it beneath the sheets. “Girlfriend. Fucking love that.”

“Mm,” she hums absentmindedly, still reading things out loud to me. “This one says ‘Babineaux and the Baddie: The Power Couple We Didn’t Know We Needed.’”

“Babineaux and the Baddie?” I toss my head back, laughing. “ That can be the same of our podcast. We can give relationship advice.”

“Or not.” She rolls her eyes. Her smile softens a little. “You’re okay with this? It’s so crazy.”

I glance over at her—damp hair, phone vibrating in her palm. She’s wearing one of my old, gray T-shirts and I want to slide my hand underneath and palm one of her tits.

My eyes go to her hard nipples as she continues to ignore me.

My cock tingles.

“Babe.” I move my palm higher on her thigh, sliding it between her legs. It inches closer to the hem of my shirt. “You’ve been glued to that phone for at least three minutes.

She spares me a glance. “Are you pouting?”

“I’m hard ,” I deadpan. “Help me.”

Her eyes drop automatically to the crisp, white sheet covering my lap, then back up—cheeks pinking. “Whose fault is that?”

I shrug. “Yours? Look at your nipples.”

Nova glances down at her chest. “Oh lord—calm down.”

Maneuvering myself, I shift on the bed so I can get my lips on her neck; kiss the pulse fluttering there.

I drag my lips higher, grazing her jaw. “I’m a man, Nova. I’m weak. Please.”

So weak.

So horny.

Her thumb keeps scrolling—absently, like she doesn’t realize she’s slowly destroying me. I slide my hand up her thigh, fingers brushing warm skin beneath my shirt, but her attention doesn’t waver.

“Starshine,” I murmur, lips brushing her ear now, trying to coax a reaction. “I’m literally begging for you.”

Nothing.

Just a hum as she grins at something on her screen. And when I reach to tug the phone out of her hand—playfully, sort of desperately—my eyes flick down for just a second .

Just a second.

And there it is, nestled between her social media apps…

The dating app.

My stomach drops, a quiet sucker punch beneath the arousal.

Fuck.

“What’s this I see?” I ask, trying to keep the mood light. I point to the familiar logo on her screen.

“The dating app,” Nova says matter-of-factly. “I haven’t deleted it yet.” She looks at me again. “Have you? ”

Actually, no. Come to think of it, I probably haven’t. Hasn’t crossed my mind since before our first date.

We both stare at each other for a second, processing that. Then?—

“Are we the worst?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, holding out her phone. “But we’re cute, so people forgive us.”

I pick up my phone and we each hold our cells; an unspoken challenge has just been issued.

“Same time?” I ask.

“Obviously.” Nova gives me a grin, nose scrunching as she finds the app.

“Say goodbye,” she sings, holding her finger over the pink icon, poised to tap on it.

“Goodbye long, self-entitled bios and weird gym selfies.”

She snorts. “Goodbye to men who think asking what are you wearing is flirty and not just code for ‘send nudes.’”

I wince. “Apologies on behalf of my entire gender. We’re still evolving.”

Nova’s finger lingers dramatically. Then—tap.

Delete.

I follow suit.

She tosses her phone onto the mattress like a mic drop. “And just like that, we’re off the market.”

I lean in, brushing a kiss to her cheek. “Guess I better make it worth your while. ”

“Oh, you better,” she teases, eyes locking with mine. “Because I’ve seen what’s out there.”

I kiss her, sealing the deal.

Hand wandering as she eases herself down on the pillow, phone dropping to the carpet with a soft thud.

Her legs shift, one knee hitching up as I slide my palm along the curve of her thigh.

“You know,” I murmur against her lips, “if this is what deleting dating apps gets us, we should’ve done it weeks ago.”

“Weeks ago we were only on our first date.” She laughs, tipping her head back and giving me full access to her neck.

“Tragic,” I whisper, brushing my lips against her skin. “All that wasted time.”

I kiss along the curve of her throat, slow and deliberate, while my hand eases up her stomach. She arches slightly beneath me, hips shifting, breath catching as my palm finds the softness of her boobs.

She’s warm everywhere.

I push her shirt higher, pausing to glance up—her eyes are half-lidded, mouth parted. That look alone has me getting harder, still…

Gently suck her throat while my hand eases up her stomach.

Tits.

They’re full in my hands, fingers plucking at her hard nipples; I want her wet again so I can fuck her again.

I could stay here forever.

“I can’t stop touching you,” I murmur into her skin. “The fact you thought you could keep me at arm’s length…”

Hilarious.

“I know. I’m an idiot.” Her hands are in my hair, tugging me.

“You said you loved me in front of thousands of people. And if I have anything to say about it—you’re never getting rid of me now.”

Her mouth curves into the softest smile. “Good.”