Page 18 of How We End
“Fucking hell,” I cried out, arching into him.I closed my eyes as he pressed deeper.Maybe I did need a few younger clients.And a few that were good at sex.Because I really did enjoy this.All the worries and stress of the day melted away under the weight of Julian.228 was a good number.
My climax slowly rolled through me, and I enjoyed it.Even the stupid hormones that flooded my body.The same hormones that made people believe it was more than sex.That it was something deeper.A low groan grumbled through Julian’s chest as he found his release.
He rolled off me, pulling me into his embrace.And I let him.Just this once, and then I’d tuck all those silly hormones back where they belonged.Because I was a professional.
“I win this round,” he whispered.
I met his gaze through the haze of orgasm.“The night’s still young.”
* * *
Julian and I lay amongst the tangled sheets and blankets.The blue neon from the Starlight Sands filled the room.My head was resting on his stomach, and it felt like we had always been this way together.There was about a half hour left of his time, and for the first time in a long time, I thought about asking if he wanted to extend.But that would cheapen this.“Did you always want to play hockey?”
“Not playing wasn’t an option.”He tucked an arm under his head.“I grew up in a hockey household.I don’t know what my father would have done if he had three girls instead of three boys.”
I could hear the sadness in his voice.“You were the only one who played professional?”
“My older brother, Hudson, played for a few seasons.Then he got hurt and never recovered.My younger brother, Beckett, never really got into it, so that left me to carry on with the Silver hockey dynasty.My father was Quinton Silver.”
He paused as if I knew that name.“Is that a name I should know?”
“God, I would pay a lot of money for you to tell him that.”
“Like how much?I got my eye on this YSL bag.”I sat up.Julian took my hand, lacing our fingers together.Everything about this was so intimate.It would almost feel normal if Jackson weren’t waiting outside the door.
“A lot.Quinton ‘Quick’ Silver is the best hockey player to ever grace the ice.If there is a record to be held, it’s held by my father.There’s a statue of him in his childhood home in Windsor, Canada.There’s a street named after him in Warroad.Everything about our life was hockey.Everything about his life is still hockey.”He sat up, moving closer to me.“I don’t really want to talk about my family.”
“What do you want to talk about?”I traced his brow.There was so much I wanted to know about him.Like how he ended up here with me.Who had broken Julian Silver.
“You.”
I scoffed.“There isn’t much to tell.I grew up in Deadwood.My parents owned a bar.And now I’m here.”That was the simplest of answers.
“Siblings?”
He had a faded bruise on his thigh.“What happened?”
“Got hit by a puck.”He ran a finger over it.“Game against Colorado.”
“And your side?”
“Cross-check into the boards.”He ducked to meet my gaze.“Is there something you’re not telling me about your family?Are you some long-lost princess being held here by an evil king?”
I laughed at how that would be easier to explain than the mess that was my family.My sister and I barely spoke, my father had no idea what I did for a living, and my mother, well, she was the lucky one.“No.I don’t want to talk about my family either.Is that okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Cass?”Jackson knocked on the door.“You’ve got twenty minutes.”
“Okay,” I called over my shoulder.
“That’s my cue.”Julian pressed a kiss to my forehead and slipped from the bed.
I stood and slipped on my robe, not sure what else to say to him.I picked up his belt and a sock.“I guess I should thank you for another amazing night.”
“Oh yeah?”He stepped closer to me as he buttoned his shirt.“You’re not saying that?—”
I pressed my finger to his mouth.“You didn’t pay me to lie to you.”
