Page 71 of Cold Front
Niall’s eyes fluttered for a second, like he was imagining it—reallyimagining it.
“And Iloved,” I murmured, shifting just a little closer, enough that our lips were almost touching, “watching you come apart under me.”
A sharp breath left him, his hand twitching where it rested at his side, like he wanted to reach for me but wasn’t sure if he should. I almost laughed, becausefuck, the way he looked right now—flushed and wanting, wide-eyed and still just a little hesitant—was unfair. Unfair in the best fucking way.
“Eli…” he breathed, like he wasn’t sure if he was asking for something or just saying my name for the hell of it.
“Yeah, baby?” I whispered, my lips barely brushing his. “What doyoulike?”
Niall blinked, his brows pulling together slightly, like he hadn’t expected the question. Like he wasn’t even sure he had an answer. Then, after a beat, he added, “I like everything we’ve done.”
That hit me somewhere deep. Warm.
I smiled, my hand finally settling on his hip, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles. “That’s a good start,” I murmured. “We’ve got time to figure out the rest.”
His lips parted, his breath coming a little quicker, and I could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself so still, like he was waiting for me to make the next move.
And Icould. Fuck, Iwantedto. Wanted to keep going, to push him just a little further, to see how much he could handle before he fell apart in my hands.
But I also knew that this moment—this quiet, post-sex haze where he was soft and open andlettingme see him—was just as important as anything else we could do.
So instead, I leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his jaw. “Let me clean us up,” I murmured against his skin, letting my fingers trace gentle patterns on his chest. Then I rose to my feet, went to the bathroom to clean up and then dampened a washcloth with warm water and headed back to my bedroom to clean up my boyfriend.
CHAPTER26
NIALL
Sweat trickled down my back, soaking into my jersey, but I barely noticed as it dripped along my spine. My body moved on autopilot, stick-handling through the drill with precision, pushing hard toward the net, but my mind was elsewhere—consumed with thoughts of Eli. For the past week, Eli and I had explored each other in ways I hadn’t expected. The image of him, flushed and breathless from last night, clung to me like the dampness of my shirt. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d been craving this—this heat, this connection—until Eli. His soft skin, the way his lips had tasted so sweet against mine, the way he responded to me, like he wanted more, needed more. And I wanted to give it to him. All of it. From his breathless moans to the way he’d melted beneath me to those sharp little gasps when I’d touched him in ways I never thought I would touch another person. My body heated up at the thought, my pulse quickening, and the ache between my legs became unbearable. I should’ve been locked in, focused, dialing in on practice the way I always did, but with every breath, I was pulled back to Eli. Back to the way he felt in my arms, the softness of his skin, the taste of his lips—how he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world.
Coach AJ’s voice cracked through the fog of my mind like a whip. “Caldwell! What the hell was that?”
I snapped back to reality just in time to see the puck ricochet off my stick and slide past the goal like it had no direction at all.
Shit.
I tried to shake it off, skating back into position, my jaw tight with frustration. The thing was, no one had ever had this effect on me. I’d spent my whole life keeping people at arm’s length, guarding my heart like it was fragile, like if I let anyone in, they’d leave me the way my parents had been taken from me. But Eli was different. The warmth of him in my arms, the way he fit against me—it made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t expected. And that scared the hell out of me. What if I gave him everything, let him see all the parts of me I’d hidden for so long, and he walked away?
I shook the thought away. I couldn’t let fear control me—not when Eli made me feel this way. Not when he made me feel like I was something more than the walls I’d spent years building around myself.
Roman skated by, slapping my helmet. “Hey, Cap, you sure you’re okay? You look a little... distracted.”
I scowled at him, my irritation flaring. “Shut up and skate.”
He just laughed, not taking offense. That was Roman for you—always quick with a joke, but never pushing too hard. Logan was quieter, but I could feel his eyes on me. It was hard to ignore the way the whole team seemed to be watching, noticing the shift in me. It wasn’t just Roman. It wasn’t just today. Something had changed, and they could all feel it.
I could see it in their faces—Logan’s smirk, Nico’s sideways glance. Hell, even Micah had stopped bitching about the drills long enough to give me a knowing look. They weren’t openly calling me out, but it was clear they’d picked up on the fact that I wasn’t all there. That I wasn’t as sharp as I usually was.
I couldn’t even blame them. This was the first practice in—I didn’t even know how long—where I wasn’t locked in like my life depended on it. But I couldn’t help it. Every time I tried to snap back, my brain fed me another image of Eli—his grin, his voice, the way he tucked his face against my neck when he was half-asleep, warm and trusting in my arms. Since that first night in Eli’s bed, it’s there I’ve slept, and it’s the best sleep I’ve had… well, after we’re finished getting nasty with each other.
Goddamn it.
Another drill. Another mistake. This time, I overskated the puck, catching an edge as I tried to recover.
Hunter let out a low whistle. “Shit, Cap. You sick or something? Or is it?—”
“A girl?” Logan finished, pulling his mask up and resting his forearm on top of his stick. “Gotta be a girl. Nothing else makes a man that stupid.”
A few of the guys laughed. Nico grinned at me like he knew something I didn’t. I forced my expression blank, but my stomach turned over. It was instinct, that sharp flicker of worry. What if they knew? What if they found out it wasn’t a girl making me act like this? What if?—
