Page 33

Chapter 33

RYLAN

M y hands shake as I unlock my door. I don't bring people here. Ever. This space is mine alone. It's my sanctuary, my fortress against the world. But tonight, watching Jamie step through the door feels... right.

He moves through my carefully ordered space like a force of nature, all golden curls and casual grace. His presence fills up the emptiness I've never let myself acknowledge, making everything feel more alive.

"So this is Captain Collings' lair?" A hint of fond amusement colors his voice as he takes in the precise alignment of my shoes and the methodically arranged hockey memorabilia. "It's very... you."

The soft laugh that escapes him makes my chest tight. I should feel exposed and uncomfortable, having him here. Instead, for some reason, I want to show him everything.

I swallow hard, stepping closer. "Jamie." My voice comes out rough, and his eyes flicker up, a spark of heat in their blue depths.

"Yeah?" He takes the final step that closes the distance between us, and the warmth of his body sends a shiver down my spine. His fingers brush my jaw, and the gentle touch burns through all my control.

"I don't..." The words stick in my throat. I've never been good at asking for what I want. But Jamie waits, patient and steady, his thumb tracing slow circles on my skin.

"What do you want, Ry?" he whispers.

I trail my hands up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palms. "I don't want to hide anymore. Not with you."

His intake of breath is sharp. "Show me," he urges, and then his mouth is on mine.

It's different from the desperate encounters we've shared before. This is slower, deeper, like he's trying to memorize every breath, every touch. My back hits the wall, and I groan, pulling him flush against me. Every curve of his body molds to mine, and fuck, I'm already hard, already aching for him.

His lips move to my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point. "Been thinking about this all night," he murmurs. "The way you looked at the bar, like you wanted to devour me."

I can't form a coherent response, so I just tangle my hands in his hair, holding him close. His thigh slides between mine, making me buck my hips involuntarily as I seek more friction. "Bedroom," I manage. "Now."

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and Christ, the heat in his gaze steals my breath. "You sure?"

Instead of answering, I grab his hand and drag him down the hall. When we reach my bedroom, I start to reach for the light switch, part of my usual careful routine, but Jamie stops me.

"Leave it," he whispers, his lips brushing my ear. "Want to see you. All of you."

The words send a shiver down my spine, and something inside me shifts. His hands slide under my shirt, warm palms burning against my skin as he maps every muscle, every scar. When he pulls my shirt over my head, I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being naked.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathes, and his mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing down my chest. My head thunks back against the wall as his tongue finds my nipple. "Love how responsive you are. Love watching you lose control.

JAMIE

His bedroom distinctly him , sleek and minimalist, all controlled, neutral colors. Seeing him like this, in his space, the place where he feels most comfortable... It's like every fantasy about him come to life. His skin is creamy and soft, his every muscle and scar a testament to his dedication and the sacrifices he's made to the hockey gods. He's staring at me with wide eyes, his strong hands curled into fists, still fighting for control of himself even though I know how desperately he craves to let go.

So that's what I plan to make him do.

"Jamie." His voice is gravel. "I need you."

Then he closes the distance between us, his mouth slanting over mine. His kiss is desperate now, his hands mapping every inch of my body with feverish intensity.

My lungs burn, but I don't care. I can't get enough of him: of his taste, his smell, of the soft noises he's making in the back of his throat. I want to consume him, brand him, make him feel every inch of my desire.

I pull my mouth off him, only so I can find a different way to devour him. I pull him off the wall and guide us to the bed, desperate to feel his body underneath mine. I graze his neck with my teeth and trace the shell of his ear with my tongue. Every inch of his skin under my fingers, every sound he makes, all of it only brings me higher.

I push him back onto his perfectly made bed, following him down and finally, finally settling my body on top of his, both of us already starting to sweat from the heat of our desperation for each other.

"Jamie, he pants, his eyes wild as he looks up at me. The way helooks at me, his eyes bright and feverish, makes something twist deep inside me. He should be the one feeling vulnerable here—he's the one who's always kept people at a distance, who's always maintained an iron grip on his control. But in this moment, I'm the one trembling, as he allows me to see every inch of him.

"I need…" he says the words again, like they're all his brain can come up with.

I know exactly what he needs. I need it too. "I know, babe. Me too."

His hips buck up, his voice turning desperate. "I need you inside me. Now. Please, Jamie. Please…"

Something cracks inside me at those words—something delicate and precious I wasn't even aware I was holding so tightly.

He reaches over to his nightstand and pulls out lube and condoms, and my hands shake as I coat my fingers and then lean down to slide one gently inside him. I've never been so hard in my life, so desperate to feel him, to connect with him on the most basic level.

I want to take more time with him, but he's not about to let me. "I'm ready, Jamie, please, please fuck me now."

He's so desperate there's not a chance I can deny him what he needs.

When I slide inside him, he arches off the bed with a sharp cry, his eyes flying open, pupils blown wide. For a moment, he's utterly lost in the sensation, and it's fucking beautiful.

"Jamie." His voice is wrecked, overwhelmed.

I start to move, slow and steady at first, but the sight of him falling apart underneath me pushes me harder, faster, until we're both moving desperately together, seeking that exquisite release.

I don't realize I'm holding back until Jamie's hands slide over my hips, his fingers gripping me so hard I know I'm going to have bruises, and I love the idea. He cups my ass, pulling me flush against him, his breath hot against my neck as he thrusts into me. Each stroke sends electricity spiraling through my body, tightening the coil low in my stomach. I cling to him, my hands mapping the strong muscles of his back.

"Ry, look at me." Jamie's voice is a low rumble, demanding my attention.

I force my heavy-lidded eyes open, meeting his gaze. He looks equally wrecked, his eyes dark with desire, his lips kiss-swollen, his hair mussed.

"Please," I manage, not sure what I'm asking for. Everything. Anything.

Rylan." His voice is pleading now, his forehead resting against my shoulder as he moves with raw, relentless intensity.

His hands slide up my back, tangling in my hair as he pulls me into another desperate kiss.

I'm a mess of desperate hands and needy whimpers as we move almost frantically together, my body craving the completion only he can give me

I can feel his release building, sense the tension coiled in his body like a mirror of my own. "Jamie," I gasp, and then I'm falling, shattering into a million pieces of light.

He collapses on top of me, his sweaty forehead pressed to my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.

After a few moments, he pushes himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching my face.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

I smile, stroking his sweat-damp hair. "Better than okay."

He grins, that dazzling, open smile. Then he leans down and captures my mouth in a slow, lazy kiss that tastes like promises.

JAMIE

Our breathing slows, our hearts stop racing, and we just... are . Together. Entwined in a way that goes far beyond our tangled limbs.

Rylan's arms tighten around me as he shifts, pulling me even closer, his face burying in the curve of my neck. I breathe him in, that perfect combination of clean sweat, fresh laundry, and something uniquely him.

"Just so you know," I murmur against his skin, tracing idle patterns on his back, "I'm never leaving this bed."

A soft laugh vibrates through him. "Good. Because I was planning to spend the next several days educating you on what a perfectly organized sock drawer can lead to."

I laugh. "Sounds like a plan."

His lips brush my pulse point, sending shivers down my spine. "For now, though... sleep?"

The raw, open trust in his voice—the fact that he's willing to let himself be this vulnerable with me—it undoes me all over again.

I burrow closer, my arms winding around him. "Mmm. Sleep."