Page 143 of Slapshot Bride

I leave my cock buried in her, allowing her to milk me dry, and we stay in this position for a few minutes before I roll over, taking her with me.

She’s boneless in my arms, and I love it.

“Can I stay the night? My flight is for tomorrow morning,” she whispers.

I kiss her head.

“You can stay for however long you desire, baby.”

She smiles. It’s only a few minutes later when she drifts into sleep. And that further solidifies the conviction in my heart.

I can’t let her go. Mason’s going to have to see it. I’d cut my own heart out before I hurt her.

I drift into sleep an hour later, after carefully plotting my mission as soon as I return to LA.

Morning comes faster than I like.

By the time I’m awake, Riley is fully dressed and ready to catch her flight.

She leans over me on the bed and plants a soft, chaste kiss on my lips.

“I gotta run, baby. I’ll see you at home?”

Home. Our home. Our house.

“I’ll see you at home, my love.”

I watch her walk out the door and sit up in bed.

The next match is in Detroit. Flight is later that evening. Game’s the next evening. I’ll need all of my focus. The faster I get this over with, the faster I can have that talk with Mason and claim my woman forever.

30

RILEY

Blackmail

The house is quiet when I let myself in.

Easton’s flight lands in three hours. I’ve already planned the evening around it. Dinner, the good wine, and the conversation we’ve been ignoring all week since Mason.

Watching him get on that bus to Chicago was all I needed to know that I had to come out with the truth. Not just to him, but to my brother.

And whatever it is that he’s hiding, or that they’ve talked about behind me, he needs to come out with all of it too, because this thing between us…

It stopped being fake a while ago.

And then, seeing him on the ice, the way his eyes lit up the moment he recognized me with his jersey… the kiss…

I’m smiling from the thoughts alone.

Lord… I want this man.

I start humming a familiar tune, and put my keys in the dish by the entryway. I’m smiling, and halfway to the kitchen before I see him.

Preston is sitting on the couch.

He’s in a gray suit with no tie, one leg crossed over the other, both hands resting on his knee, comfortable, like the room belongs to him.