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I forget how to breathe.
He’severywhere, making each nerve sing. I barely remember to continue moving my hips, the biological urge to feel the friction of his dick dragging inside of me overriding everything else. I grind down as hard as I can, and then my climax hits me with the force of a tsunami. My entire body quakes as I tighten around his cock. I can’t see or hear or think. I just feel, drowning in a pool of pleasure.
Aidan coming is the sexiest sight I’ve ever seen. His features tighten, the same pinched expression he wore when he was in bed icing his bruise. Except this time, his face slackens a few seconds later. He fucks me through the aftershocks shuddering through my body, a mixture of masculine grunts and swear words spilling out of his mouth. And then he slumps against the passenger seat, his eyes still hooded and his breathing as fast and rapid as mine as he runs a hand through his hair, mussing up the strands even more than I did.
Neither of us moves, staring at each other. The truck is silent aside from our breathing, the scent of sex lingering in the air.
He’s still inside of me, half-hard.
I’m not sure I can move. My entire body feels like a wrung-out sponge.
“It’s snowing,” Aidan says gruffly, glancing away.
I look out the window, remembering there’s a world outside of this truck.
Sure enough, snow is coming down from the sky steadily, backlit by the lights surrounding the parking area. It’s already coated the asphalt of the parking lot, covering the faded lines and the cracks with a fluffy sheet. Collected on the light posts that line the edge.
It’s a beautiful sight. Ethereal. Mesmerizing.
I look at him.
Aidan isn’t watching the snowfall.
He’s staring at me with a small smile curving up the corners of his mouth. When our eyes meet, he reaches forward and brushes a piece of hair away from my face, tucking it carefully behind one ear.
“We should go before the roads get too bad,” he says softly.
I nod. “Yeah. We should.”
There’s a lurch low in my stomach when his gaze stays on mine. He doesn’t look at the snow. At my naked body or the spot where we’re still connected. He just studies my face, like he doesn’t want to look away. Like he wants to stay in this special moment as much as I do.
And it feels like I’m falling as fast as the flakes around us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
AIDAN
The locker room is an eerie silent as Conor stands.
Even more quiet than during Coach’s pregame speeches, because Conor’s are a rarer occurrence. No one’s wrapping their stick or pulling on their game jersey.
We’re all seated with our attention squarely aimed at our captain.
My knee bounces, impatient energy pinballing through me.
In ten minutes, I’ll be out on the ice. In two hours, I’ll know if we’re playing in the final.
Today will either be my last hockey game—ever—or the final step before getting the chance to end my career as a champion.
No pressure.
It’s not just up to me. We’ve won every game this season as a team, the same way we lost one.
But I can feel the burning desire tofight.
Not physically, although I’m usually happy to drop gloves.
I want this win. Want it forme, not just for Conor or for Hunter or for any of the other seniors on the team. Or for Coach Keller.
