Page 109 of Shift Change

“Goddammit!” I yelled. “Fuck,oh fuck, yes!”

I shoved myself as deep as I could and let go. The first spurt was hot, and I kept thrusting, kept coming, chasing the heat until I had nothing left. Nate was still coming too, and I tightened my grip to keep us both upright.

When we were spent, I got lightheaded. I eased us onto the bed, still joined, still clutching him to me. He landed in his own mess, but judging from his low moans and half-formed words, he couldn’t have cared less.

I nestled my face against his neck, letting the heat of him anchor me. “Can you breathe?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He let out a dazed chuckle. “Love this.”

My cock was still inside him, softening now, but he clenched around me like he didn’t want to let go.

I kissed his neck. “Be right back.”

His only response was a groan. In the bathroom, I wet a washcloth and wiped myself off, then rinsed it and grabbed a towel.

When I returned, Nate had rolled onto his back, boneless and grinning.

“That was the best yet,” he said. “Kiss me.”

I leaned in and brushed my lips over his. He moaned quietly, and while he lay there, pliant and blissed out, I cleaned him, wiping the warm cloth over his cock and stomach.

“Legs up,” I said.

He obeyed without a word, and I took my time cleaning him there too. When I was done, I dried him, then tossed the towel and washcloth to the floor. I curled up beside him, and he reached for the one visible corner of the sheet and dragged it over us.

With his head resting on my shoulder, he draped his strong arm across my chest, claiming me all over again. “I love you, Chuck. That was incredible.”

“It was for me too.” I kissed the top of his head, heart full to bursting. “I love you so fucking much.”

Damn the tears that slid down my cheeks, but I didn’t try to stop them. I was in bed with the one person who made my life real, and we’d come so fucking close to losing it all.

He shifted beside me, leaned on an elbow, and wiped my tears away with his fingers. “It’s okay, babe. You saved us. We’re going to be okay.”

I swallowed hard and met his eyes. “Wesaved us.”

“You were the one who didn’t give up.”

“Neither did you,” I said. “If you had, we wouldn’t be here right now. Starting now, we work on this every day. The hard shit. The good stuff. All of it. One day, we’ll look around and realize we’ve built something better than we ever thought we could have.”

He nodded, hand still on my cheek. “We will.”

There we were. We were bruised and still figuring things out, but we weren’t broken.

We were together. For good.

39

holky

Blades carveddeep into the ice as Montreal swarmed our zone, cycling the puck like demons on a powerplay though we were at even strength. Their passes were crisp, sharp, and relentless. My lungs burned as I tracked them, shoulder to shoulder with Logan, Riley, Abby, and Packy, sticks down, eyes snapping from man to puck to crease and back again.

Two shots had already come in hot, both smothered by Gabe, but if we didn’t break their rhythm soon, it would only be a matter of time before they scored. The Lynx were wearing us down, and the crowd’s tension thrummed in my ears, louder every second.

Then—crack!—Logan read a pass, jumped the lane, and intercepted it clean. Like a rocket, he shot up the left side, and I exploded into motion, flying up the center. Our skates tore up the ice, the sound behind us building as men closed in—some Warriors, some Lynx, all of them hungry.

Logan veered toward the middle, homing in for a shot. I adjusted to give him the lane and be an option if he needed me. We were nearly in the slot when a blue jersey screamed past me. Wind slapped my face as goddamn Ramirez—the Lynx’s star winger—caught up to Logan and lunged. His stick hooked Logan’s, and the puck skittered loose.

The ref’s whistle split the air. Hooking—two minutes for Ramirez. I glanced at our bench, but Criswell didn’t move. No line change, no rest for the wicked.

---