Was I too long? Does she have to go?
“Big game tomorrow.” Her voice is already shifting back toward reality.
The ache is instant and sharp. I pull my arms from under her legs and sit up.
But she continues, her gaze locked onto mine. “After I get back Thursday night, win or lose, I want you here. The entire weekend.”
“The… entire weekend?”
Am I imagining this or did she just say she wants to spendmoretime with me?
She nods once. “Stretch. Exfoliate. Be ready.”
“Okay,” I breathe, the word trembling.
“Remember everything you checked on that contract?"
I swallow the lump in my throat, trying and failing to picture even my name on that contract. But I nod anyway.
"I’m going to do as many of those as I can in three days.” Her eyes hold a promise that steals my breath. “And I need you to be prepared.”
Then, she kisses me. Deep and claiming with the taste of her on my own tongue.
The pulsing between my thighs tightens as I wrap around her, already counting down the seconds until Thursday.
Chapter Sixteen
Skye
The buzzer is still ringing in my ears.
Quarterfinals, won.
I shake hands and nod at the media. I say all the right things: “proud of the team,” “short memory,” “one game at a time.”Captain answers that let me remain in control with that many cameras on me.
Inside, I’m vibrating. Not because we won, but because we have four days until the semifinals.
I peel off my gear in the locker room, listening to the hum of my team around me. Everyone is loud and riding high from the win. I let them, they’ve earned it.
I keep my voice steady when I talk. Keep my face neutral.
Broody, they call it. Good. Captains aren’t supposed to look giddy. At least that’s what I was always told by everyone around me.
The second I high-five my team and step into the hallway, something shifts.
Three days before we refocus. Three days before film sessions, structured, skates, and media obligations swallow me whole again.
Three days with Violet.
I shouldn’t be distracted. I know that. The semifinals are four days away, and everything we’ve trained for is sitting right there, waiting.
And still, I can’t wait to see her.
I love the way she looks at me when I’m off the ice. Not like the captain, or like I’m carrying a country on my back. Just… me. Sweaty, bruised, and breathing hard.
She doesn’t flinch at intensity; she steps into it. I guess that comes with being a surgeon. She has to take on hard cases with a clear head, and that’s exactly how I feel Violet handles things. At least outside the bedroom.
Getting to watch her go down on me last night was one of the best things I’ve ever experienced, aside from my hockey career. But they’re like comparing apples and oranges.
