Page 47 of Fool Me Once

“I’m going to come.”

Her hips buck harder, damn near suffocating me, and I fucking love it.

“Me too, baby,” I growl. “Right in my pants from eating this pussy.”

As her heat convulses around my tongue and her body heaves while she tries to catch her breath, I blow my load inside my pants, simply from her riding my face.

When my eyes pop back open, I look down at the mess I’ve made all over myself.

“One day, I’m going to actually taste you again,” I utter, still breathless from the fantasy of Gemma Jones. “One day, baby—I promise you that.”

Ifollow Paige, Poppy, Saylor, Maci, and Amelia down the stairs to find our seats. My heart races inside my chest because I know in a few minutes, I’m going to make my way down to the plexiglass to make it seem like Smith and I are a couple. We’ve shared a lot of memories in the past, and I don’t think I have ever been this nervous.

Before leaving the house, I told Saylor the plan. She rolled her eyes but then laughed, shrugging her shoulders before eating one of the many cake pops Kolt had delivered to our place for his wife. I think maybe she’s secretly rooting for us to get back together, but I also know she’s worried her brother is going to do something stupid. Or maybe she knows I’m not whole enough to give Smith everything he needs to have a healthy, loving relationship. Who knows?

Once the girls all sit, Paige smiles. “Your man is looking for you.”

When I lift my head, my cheeks flood with heat when I see him leisurely skating our way. On shaky legs, I head down the few stairs remaining and wait for him on the other side of the plexiglass.

I stop when he’s just a few inches from me, and he tips his chin up and grins.

Hi, he mouths, making me blush even harder.

“Hi,” I attempt to mouth but end up actually squeaking out the word.

He gives me a strange look, as if he’s asking me to trust him.

Slowly, he puts his gloved hand to the glass, flashing his eyes at my hand. Cautiously, I bring it to the glass and put it over his. Within seconds, people are cheering, and some girls are gushing over it, but everything seems like background noise. My head spins, and my soul vibrates.

For a moment, fake or not, it really is just us.

“Good luck,” I say, smiling at him and letting my hand sluggishly fall to my side.

“Thank you, babe.” His eyes are full of mischief as he blows me a kiss, sending tingles rushing over every inch of my skin.

Skating backward for a moment, he winks before turning around and heading toward his team. I shake my head in an attempt to bring myself to reality, and that’s when I see a few cameras on me.

Ready or not … everyone is going to believe I’ve moved on.

In the final seconds of this game, Tampa’s center skates flawlessly down the ice, keeping control of the puck with a winger open on his left side. If there was ever a moment to do my job, it’s right now—when we’re only up by one goal and the other team has possession of the puck. We’re all tired. This has been a tough game for us, and I don’t think anyone—besides our opponents—wants to go into overtime.

This is a block I’ve got to be prepared for, and I’m sure Tripp is behind me right now, defending his goal and ready to go to war to take home the W.

Tripp is intense and so talented. So much so that I’m not all that worried if this dude somehow does get past me.

He’s not slowing down, and I’m not giving in either.

Over a month ago, our entire team watched the toughest dude we know—Kolt—take a direct hit on the ice that gave him a fucking heart attack. In all the years I’d been playing hockey, I’d never witnessed something like that firsthand, and I can say that watching it happen to one of my best friends was one of the hardest things I’d ever seen, but not one of the Bay Sharks has played scared since then. We could never do that to Kolt, who has been stuck being benched until the cardiologist clears him to play.

Kolt Kolburne is one of the most feared players in the NHL. No one wants to see that dude skating toward you because he’s a fucking tank. And he’s scary as hell too. But in his absence, I’ve had to step up my game. I’ve taken some hits, and I’ve delivered even more. And in a few seconds, there won’t be any exception either.

Rather than waste the few seconds left on the clock passing to his teammate, their center sends it toward the goal, and even though I’m sure Tripp is behind me, ready to block, I get to it first, stopping it from going any further.

The clock runs out of time, and while the Tampa players hang their heads in defeat, the Sharks and all the New England fans erupt into cheers of happy chaos.

It’s a good day to be a Bay Shark.

Logan crashes against me, grinning ear to ear as his arms wrap around my body, and he pounds his palm on my back. “Fuck yeah, Sawyer!” he hollers.

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