Page 106 of All Your Pucking Secrets

“Perfect,” I reply, and begin riding him again, rolling my hips to prolong each movement.

With a growl, he grabs my hips and—after making eye contact to seek silent approval—takes control of our pace, driving faster, his breath becoming shallow. When he comes, jerking inside me, his mouth open in a silent shout, he holds my gaze for the entire time.

I feel raw, vulnerable, and completely worshiped, because in that moment, his soul is bare to me. He doesn’t even try to hide. He wants me to look. To see my name carved on the deepest, most private parts of him.

I kiss him because no words could possibly capture the maelstrom of emotions raging inside me, and then I snuggle against his chest.

Eventually, we separate for long enough to clean up, but immediately return to the sofa. He pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms around me.

“It’s the final championship game next week,” he says. “In Portland. Will you come?”

I’ve been to all of his home playoff games but haven’t attended any of the away games yet.

I relax into the warmth of his embrace. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

27

TYLER

I don’t open my eyes after I wake up. Even now, I sometimes wonder if our reconciliation was a wonderful dream and one day I’ll wake up alone in my childhood bedroom while Dad yells at me for being lazy.

“Ty.” She sounds amused. “I know you’re awake.”

I crack one eye open and blow her a kiss. “You caught me.”

She laughs and lifts herself up on her elbow, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like liquid silk. “How does it feel to be a champion?”

I pull her against my body and rest my hand on her hip, taking comfort from her presence and the scent of strawberries that lingers in the air.

“It’s nothing compared to being the champion of your heart.”

She rolls her eyes. “Uh-huh.”

She thinks I’m being cheesy. If only she had any idea how much it means to me to have her. Winning the championship yesterday was a blast, and I know it’ll look good as I enter the draft, but she matters more to me than hockey.

“Hopefully Matthews is okay,” I say.

The defenseman hurt his ankle when he was knocked on his ass during a desperate play by the opposition in the last few minutes of the game. I know he intends to enter the draft too, but if he has rehab to do on an injured ankle, it could hurt his chances.

“We could check in with him later,” she suggests. “You could call him during the drive.”

We all traveled back to Newbury after the game yesterday and had a celebration at Coach’s house, but Matthews didn’t turn up.

“Good idea.” The drive to Charlesville is far enough for me to have plenty of time to talk to him.

“What about your bruises?” She pushes the bedspread down and scans my body, then winces. “That one on your hip is nasty.”

I chuckle. “That’s what happens when someone hip checks you into a wall.”

She doesn’t laugh back, just narrows her eyes. “We should have iced it yesterday.”

“It’s just a bruise.” I draw her down for a kiss. “It’ll be fine in a few days.”

She grumbles but doesn’t say anything else about it. I have to admit, it’s nice to have someone worry about me. Soraya has always been supportive, but she doesn’t fuss the way Echo does. I kind of like her clucking over me like a mother hen.

Ugh. Speaking of mothers…

“I’m worried about meeting your mom today,” I admit. “She doesn’t have a very good impression of me from the past.”

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