Page 17 of The Pucks We Freeze
He eased a third finger inside me, and the sharp sound that escaped me was half sob, half moan. The room filled with slick, desperate sounds, but I didn’t care. My focus was locked on the way his eyes burned with hunger, like he needed to watch me fall apart for him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, “look at you. Gripping me so tight like you never want to let go. Come for me, Willow, and I swear I’ll give you everything.”
He pressed his thumb to my clit and circled with maddening precision. That did it for me. My body seized, then splintered under the pressure, releasing harder and deeper than before. The pleasure hit me all at once, wild and consuming, tearing me apart from the inside out.
By the time I blinked my eyes open, Kade stood in front of me, fully naked now. The towel was long gone. His fist was wrapped around his cock, the tip flushed and slick as he rolled the condom on.
“Hold your legs up for me,” he said, voice lower now, strained with control.
I obeyed, lifting my knees and curling them toward my chest. He guided the head of his cock through my folds, dragging it through the mess he’d made of me. And then, with one deep thrust, he slid inside.
I cried out, my hands flying to his shoulders as he filled me to the hilt, burying himself completely.
He paused, hovering over me, then gently shifted my legs over his shoulders and leaned down until our mouths brushed.
“I promise I’ll take it slow next time,” he whispered, the words ghosting over my lips. “But right now… I need you.”
I nodded, breath catching. And then he moved.
And as the waves of it started to ease, I knew with absolute certainty that when this week ended, nothing between us would ever return to the way it was before.
Chapter Six
Willow
The hum of the industrial dryer filled the lodge’s laundry room. I leaned against the counter, flipping between two text threads. One was from Everly, checking in with an all-capsSTILL ALIVE OUT THERE, ROOMIE?The other was from Lynette, Kade’s mom, offering a softer update.
Lynette: Your dad’s doing well, sweetheart. He was resting when I left the hospital, but the doctors are optimistic. Tomorrow’s looking good for discharge.
I exhaled slowly, tension draining from my shoulders. Relief settled in, like the first deep breath after holding it in for too long. He was okay.
But in the back of my mind, that familiar voice echoedfor now.
I dug through the pile of laundry, separating out what needed to go in the wash. My hand landed on something thick. Kade’s hoodie. Gray, oversized, wrinkled, and still faintly scented with cedarwood and whatever cologne he used. The familiar mix hit me hard. It felt like safety and trouble wrapped into one.
I held it for a beat too long before shaking it out to toss it in the wash. Something crinkled dropped onto the floor. Frowning, I reached down and picked up a single folded sheet, soft from wear.
I glanced around the empty laundry room, heart ticking a little faster, then slowly unfolded it.
It wasn’t just a random list.
Jersey numbers filled the page in uneven rows. Some were underlined, while others were dotted in blue, red, and yellowhighlighters. Beside each number were shorthand notes. Things like:
12 – shift drop 2nd.
5 – NC call x3.
89 – N/A.
At first glance, it appeared to be gibberish.
But the longer I stared, the more it made sense. These weren’t just notes on plays. They were patterns. Logged observations.Shift dropmight’ve meant someone missing time on the ice.NCcould have beenno contactornot cleared.And 89, Rowdy’s number, stood alone with nothing beside it.
My fingers tightened around the sheet.
Kade was tracking something or someone. By the looks of it, maybe his entire team.
I sat on the edge of the laundry bench, heart beating faster. I had already told Kade the night before about what I saw. The photos of Gavin hesitating, the moment he collapsed, and how I thought the injury was faked. He hadn’t denied it.
