Page 101 of Sweet Thing

We kissed, the connection between us suddenly deeper and more compelling than ever. I’d unburdened myself tonight, shared the hurts inflicted on me, the doubts I had about my potential to be a good dad. She had listened, defended, supported. She had stood in my corner, cheering me on. No one had ever given this to me.

“Thank you,” I whispered as I applied another lingering kiss. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ll always be here for Mabel.”

I drew back. “Not thanking you for Mabel—well, I am, always—but for being you. For being my rock, but also for being my angel. For lifting me up. For offering your strength, your body, your wit. Everything about you is so damn perfect.”

Her eyes welled. I thought she might say something, but words appeared to fail her. She kissed me instead.

Breathless, we separated, again gazing upon each other like we were seeing for the first time. I didn’t want to impute too much significance to this, but it felt big. Real. Terrifying.

She clasped my hand and led me upstairs. I loved seeing her take the lead; I was a slave to her and would happily follow her anywhere.

In the bedroom, we stripped each other slowly, taking our time. Recognizing that this thing between us had entered a new phase.

I kissed down her body, spending a few heady seconds on those perfect breasts, the flare of her hip, the curve of her ass. Those soft inner thighs were perfect against my lips, and when I tasted her, the tang of her arousal sent blood rushing to my cock.

After the slow strip, I tried to keep what followed on the same speed setting. But I wasn’t getting any younger and waiting had never been my strong point. Suited up, I entered her in a single thrust. She bracketed my body with her thighs, pulled me deeper, whispered sweet words of desire and need in my ear. Rocking into her, I let myself fall into pleasure and push away the trouble rearing its head.

And when she cried out, I captured that pleasure with my mouth, holding it, dragging it inside me, until I could no longer keep it behind the gates. Mindless, I let go with a final stroke inside her, loving how she held me tight. Loving her.

Knowing this was likely the end of one important relationship, but recognizing in my heart that it was the start of another.

A family of my own.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

Rebel sources tell us Theo Kershaw has been placed on IR with a lower body injury ahead of tonight’s game against Tampa. Given the Rebels’ poor results after Nyquist’s unfortunate suspension, Coach Graham will be hard-pressed to adequately stock the lines on a team with such a shallow defensive bench. Will he put the terrible twosome, MacFarlane and Nyquist, on the same line? Maybe these two can work out their differences in a more productive manner on the ice. Then again there’s that saying about pigs and their ability to transcend the usual laws of physics.

- @RebelsInsider

Lars

I had to tell Kershaw.

Last night with Adeline, I’d felt so close to her. Like I was finally where I belonged, with the right person in the right moment. I couldn’t imagine my life without her, which meant I had to take action to make it happen. It would be rough for a while. Theo would probably pummel me to a pulp, Hatch would join in, and Elle would stop speaking to me. (I suspected I might have Aurora and Tilly on my side.) Most of all, the team dynamics would suffer. But it was early in the season—we might recover.

Ahead of the home game against Tampa, the press was loving this new angle of me forced to play with my sworn enemy, almost daring me to lash out at Coach or make some crack about how much I hated MacFarlane. Stuck on IR, Theo was watching up in the box and God help us, Dex O’Malley had been given the captain’s band.

Me and MacFarlane as partners? O’Malley in charge on the ice? The end times had arrived, it seemed.

It didn’t start well. Your own teammates weren’t supposed to be chirping away but this dick had decided getting under my skin would somehow contribute to our on-ice partnership.

“Aw, you miss your bestie?”

“Screw you.”

He grinned behind his mouthguard and skated off.

Ten seconds later: “So sad.”

“Get fucked.”

Boden called out from goal: “Aren’t you guys on the same team?”

Tell that to my so-called partner on the defensive line.

At the end of the first period, as I accepted the skate guards from the assistant, MacFarlane bumped shoulders with me. We were one goal down, owing to some miscommunication between me and my new buddy.

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