Page 98 of The Hearts We Fumble
Zane nods toward the exit, his expression shifting, something unreadable in his gaze.
I expect him to lead me back to the sitting area near the lockers, but instead, he tugs me down a dimly lit hallway I’ve never been in before.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my pulse spiking when he stops in front of a door and wraps his fingers around the handle.
The visitor’s locker room.
“Zane—”
The door creaks open.
He grins, that wicked smirk full of trouble, eyes gleaming in the low light.
“C’mon, firecracker,” he taunts, stepping inside. “Let’s have a little fun.”
I hesitate for only a second before he pulls me in, the door clicking shut behind us.
Our skates tapping against the rubber floor echo in the empty space. USA Junior Hockey League is painted on a banner above the metal stalls, and the faint scent of sweat and ice lingers in the air.
Zane kneels in front of me, his hands already reaching for my laces.
“What are we doing?” I ask, breathless as he slowly tugs at the ties, his knuckles grazing my ankles, then my calves.
He doesn’t answer right away. He finishes with my skates, setting them aside before standing and doing the same with his own.
The second he’s on his feet, I feel how much taller he is without the skates. I tilt my head back, my pulse thrumming in anticipation.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
I nod, and his lips twitch.
“Good.” He steps closer, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “Turn around,” he orders, his fingers brushing the hair from my shoulder. “Lean forward.”
My breath catches.
There’s a delicious pause, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.
I hesitate for half a second, but Zane is patient, his hands sliding down my arms, intertwining his fingers with mine, guiding me exactly where he wants me.
The metal locker is cool beneath my palms, a contrast to the fire pulsing through me.
Zane’s touch drags up my arm, over my shoulder, his fingertips skimming my jaw before his lips ghost against my neck.
“Do you know how hard it is not to touch you whenever we’re together?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over my skin. “Do you understand how big of a temptation you’ve always been to me?”
My chest rises and falls in rapid succession, my voice barely above a whisper. “No.”
Zane hums, his fingers tightening on my hips. “It’s why I held back for so long,” he admits. “Not just because I wasn’t ready—but because I knew once I had a taste, I’d never be able to let you go.”
His lips press against my pulse point, and I exhale shakily, my fingers clenching around the metal edge of the locker.
He takes a deep breath as if committing my scent to memory.
His grip tightens.
“And now?” I whisper, my voice barely holding steady. “Now that we’ve given in… now that the school year is ending, and the NFL is knocking on your door… what happens to us then?”
Zane stills.
