Page 37
The thought makes me desperate, more aggressive. I slide two fingers inside her, curling them just right while I suck hard on her clit. She cries out, her thighs trembling around my head, her fingers tugging painfully at my hair.
"Oh, Logan!"
"That's it. Come for me," I demand against her slick flesh. "Come on my tongue, baby."
She shakes apart with a muffled scream, her body clenching around my fingers as she rides out the waves. I don't let up, licking her through the aftershocks until she's pulling me up by my hair.
"Inside me," she pants, already reaching for my belt. "Need you inside me."
I free my cock, already hard and aching, and lift her legs around my waist. She's so wet I slide in easily, both of us groaning at the feeling of connection.
"Fuck, you feel good," I rasp, burying my face in her neck. "So perfect. You're always so perfect, my beautiful sweetheart."
I set a hard, desperate rhythm, the boxes creaking under her weight as I pound into her. This isn't gentle lovemaking. This is raw, primal, full of all the emotions I can't bring myself to voice.
"Yes," she moans, meeting every thrust. "God, Logan, don't stop."
I won't. I can't.
This might be our last time in this arena, this building that's become so important to both of us.
Her pussy clenches around me, and I know she's close again. I reach between us, finding her clit with my thumb, rubbing it fast until she's sobbing my name.
"Come with me," she gasps. "Please."
I'm right there with her, my orgasm building at the base of my spine. When she falls apart again, her walls milking my cock, I follow her over the edge with a grunt that's half pleasure, half pain.
We stay locked together for a long moment, breathing hard, sweat cooling on our skin. Eventually, I set her down gently, both of us scrambling to make ourselves presentable.
"That was..." she starts, then just shakes her head, smiling.
"Yeah," I agree, tucking my shirt back in. "That was."
She reaches up to fix my hair, her touch gentle, loving. "You sure you're okay? You seemed... intense."
I catch her hand, pressing it flat against my chest. "Just wanted to celebrate you properly."
It's not the whole truth. It's not even close. But it's all I can give her right now.
"We should get back," she says, but makes no move toward the door.
"Emma, I—"
"I know."
Her eyes search mine, deep and knowing, and for a moment, I wonder if she really does know everything I'm not saying. If somehow those warm eyes can see straight through my carefully constructed walls to all the fear and uncertainty churning inside me.
The rumors, the meeting, the possibility that in a few short weeks, I might be wearing another team's jersey in another city, far from this bookstore, this town... far from her.
I've gotten good at hiding my emotions. Hell, in my field, it's practically a professional requirement. But Emma has always had this unsettling ability to read me like one of her damn books.
She cups my cheek and smiles gently. "I know, Logan. Tomorrow we'll figure out what comes next. Together."
Together.
Fuck, I hope so.
We slip back into the lounge separately, Emma first, me following a few minutes later. The party's winding down, people gathering their things, making plans for after the exhibition game tomorrow.
I grab another beer and position myself back by the windows, but Emma's already been pulled into another conversation with Sophia about media interviews and publicity photos following the announcement tomorrow.
I'm watching her laugh at something Grandpa Walt says when nature calls. The guys' restroom is just down the hall from the lounge, and I slip out quietly, nodding to a few maintenance guys heading the opposite direction.
I'm just finishing up when I hear voices from the other side of the wall in the bathroom. They're not familiar voices though, probably some leftover guests from the tour earlier.
"—shame if they trade Kane," one voice says. "Guy's the backbone of that defense."
I shake my head. Seems like I can't fucking escape the chatter anywhere.
"Heard it's pretty much a done deal," the second voice responds. "Management wants to get younger, capitalize on the Stanley Cup victory and make room for that rookie they signed from college."
"Fucking stupid if you ask me. Kane's got at least three good years left. And the team chemistry... without him, the whole dynamic's screwed."
"Tell me about it. My kid had his picture taken with Kane today. Kid's been talking nonstop about playing defense for the Icehawks when he grows up. Dreams crushed, man."
They laugh, but it's bitter.
"Well, shit happens. Business is business, right?"
Their voices fade as they leave, but their words echo in my head like a death sentence.
Pretty much a done deal.
I lean against the sink, gripping the porcelain edge until my knuckles go white. Everything I suspected, everything I've been trying not to think about, laid out by two random fans who probably know more about my future than I do.
The door opens and Connor walks in. He takes one look at my face, and whistles low.
"Shit man. You look like crap."
"Thanks," I grunt.
He shrugs, moving to the sink beside me. "Rumors, man. Always fucking rumors."
I open my mouth to say something, but… nothing comes out.
"Until it's official, it's just noise." Connor slaps me on the back and meets my eyes in the mirror. "For what it's worth, we're all pulling for you to stay."
I want to believe him. I want to believe that talent and loyalty and being the heart of the team's defense means something.
But I've been in this league long enough to know that none of that matters when management makes up their mind.
I stare at my reflection, looking for answers I don't have. Connor's silent beside me, clearly struggling for the right words too. He just claps me on the shoulder again and heads for the door.
He pauses just as he steps out. "For the record, Kane? If they do trade you, they're fucking idiots. This team needs you. She needs you."
He leaves me alone with my thoughts and the sound of running water.
In the mirror, I look like a man who's already lost everything that matters.
And tomorrow morning, I might find out if that's true.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
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- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
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- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37 (Reading here)
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44