Page 113 of Holding The Reins

I squeeze my legs around his waist and my pussy clenches around his cock, tightening to a painful grip around him as my orgasm begins to surface.

“Yes, baby, all yours,” I say breathlessly, knowing what he needs—to claim me, to convince him that I’m his and I’m never leaving.

Nash’s hand grips my throat even tighter, my breathing turns shallow as he squeezes it, but I never once fear. I know I’m safe. I struggle for my breath as he holds me up fucking into me with a violent desperation.

“Fucking Christ, Rae. I love you,” he breathes as I begin to come, my vision blackens as my breath turns even more shallow. I let go, I give in as his hand around my throat heightens the pleasure to the most intense level I’ve ever felt.

“I fucking love you, Nash, and all of you is mine, baby,” I whisper as my vision goes white and a primal groan erupts from his chest.

I’m pulling every last drop from him as we fall apart together and I swear I can feel it. I can feel his release. Everywhere.

Nash Carter isn’t just in my heart; he’s taken over my entire being and I’m never, ever letting him go.

“Why am I so nervous?” I ask Mama. “This is all in good fun.”

“Because, baby, he’s your man and you want him to win, even if it is for charity.”

I nod. She’s right, I do want to see him win. Three minutes to go in the third period of our charity game at the Sundown Festival, and the Pros and Townies are tied.

Nash looks so incredible out there. I’ve always watched him play, ever since I was young but now, it’s different. He’s an enigma on the ice. So fast, so much finesse, it’s easy to see why he was nicknamed The Rocket by his fans. The Pros have really taken it easy on the Townies. They have allowed some real photo-worthy goals in, just to keep the hometown crowd happy, even though it’s obvious to everyone that they could wipe the ice with them.

Nash has scored three out of the eight goals for his team on former Chicago Blackhawks goalie, Damien Smith, who’s in net for the Townies.

Cole and Wade are reliving their childhood core memories and have had some good hearty races for the puck with Nash. Everything Nash does on the ice is effortless, even letting the other team score a few and he looks so damn happy doing it, it’s contagious.

“I’m just gonna be the one to say it, he’s fucking hot,” Olivia whispers, so Mabel doesn’t hear.

I look at him through her eyes, navy blue jersey and matching equipment, the tiniest bit of his dark hair poking out from his helmet, sweaty and sinister looking out there. Yeah, he’s really fucking hot.

Harry didn’t even argue when Nash told him he had rush ordered custom jerseys for both teams. And as I sit in the stands in Nash’s own jersey from the year he won the cup with the Stars, he looks up at me, winks then taps his heart with his thumb and points as he skates to the corner ice to take the face off. I smile back.

His name and number are on my back, matching his, and it feels damn good. We’re a team. Now that Nash has admitted his feelings for me, it’s like Pandora’s box has opened. I feel lavished upon all day, every day, worshiped the way I now know I deserve, and I’ve never been happier.

The puck drops and Nash wins the face off passing to his old teammate, Cory Kane. The two of them take off down the ice, Cory sending the puck across to Nash who picks it up immediately, but the whistle blows as the ref calls offside, when it clearly wasn’t.

Before I can stop myself, I’m standing and hollering profanities at Roger Booth, my old science teacher, for making a bad call.

Ginger grabs my arm, she’s doubled over laughing. “Good thing you weren’t with this man when he played in the NHL, you would’ve been kicked out of the rink,” she snorts.

“It was a bad call,” I say defensively, while I sit back down as all the women in my life laugh at me.

They faceoff again as the clock continues to wind down. Finally, Nash and his old teammate, Jackson Reynolds, have a two on one against Angus Brewer, a big construction worker from town who plays recreational hockey. Nash passes to Jackson, and I’m sure Jackson is going to take the shot on Damien but at the very last second, he sends it back over to Nash who tips it in right over the shoulder of Damien and the whole arena goes absolutely crazy—including me.

I’m jumping up and down, high fiving Mabel and my mom. I’m a proud puck bunny up in the stands for the man that has my heart and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The day has been incredible, I swear everyone in the surrounding counties came out. The weather has been perfect, and it even felt like a bit of fall was in the air. I’ve never been so proud to be a part of something in my life, seeing all the smiling faces from our town and surrounding areas, happy vendors, happy local business owners, watching my man in his element.

As I say goodbye to my family and take the time to visit with many of the vendors that showed up, I allow the feeling that this was the first of many things Nash and I will do together that will go this smoothly. My pride to work with him extends well beyond the fact that I am immensely in love with him. It comes from our shared love for this community and the huge heart that he has for it. It’s that he wants to give back and really put down his roots in Laurel Creek. Nash says it’s his second phase in life, his phase with me. His forever, and as long as he keeps looking at me the way he is now coming towards me, freshly showered from the dressing room, I’m in for whatever he suggests and probably always will be. Because where Nash Carter is concerned, I’m pretty much at his mercy.

“Pants off, leave the jersey,” Nash growls as he presses me up against the wall in his front entryway.

“You’re not even going to let me get in the door? Take my boots off?”

Nash groans as his hands move swiftly over my body, like I’m his lifeline and he’s at rough sea without me. “Oh, I’m going to let you in the door alright. I got the game winning goal today,” he rasps into my ear. “I’ve been so good, baby. I deserve a reward.”

“Is that so?” I ask, chuckling at his excuse to have me submit to whatever it is he wants to do to me.

“And what exactly would that be?”

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