Page 103 of Game Misconduct
I nod.
“We’re careful, Sloane. I mean it.”
“I know how to be careful.” My voice dips. “I’ve been careful my whole damn life.”
He lifts my chin, eyes burning into mine. “Not with me.”
No. Not with him.
And I don’t want to be.
We don’t say it’s us against the world, but it’s there—in the space between us, in the slow slide of his fingers down my arm, in the kiss he presses to my temple like a vow he doesn’t have to speak.
When I glance down, I see his tie crumpled on the floor beside the island.
I bend to pick it up. “This is mine now.”
He smirks, leaning his forehead against mine. “You already took my breath. You might as well take that too.”
“Stay,” I say softly.
He pulls back slightly. “You sure?”
“I’m positive. Besides, it’s Sunday,” I murmur. “Let the rest of the world wait one more day.”
He runs his knuckles over my cheek. “Yeah,” he says. “I could use one more day.”
I loop the tie around his neck and pull him to me, where his mouth crashes into mine.
It’s more than just a kiss. It’s a possession.
And I’m here for it.
He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling the weight of his hardness in my center.
When we get to bed, we rip at each other’s clothes, frantic to feel skin on skin again.
And when he finds my entrance wet and ready for him, he slides home, stretching and filling me like it’s the first time all over again.
That’s where we stay the rest of the day, exploring each other again and again, using our hands, tongues, and bodies to talk.
Reality will come knocking tomorrow.
But today—today, we stay right here.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Maddox
The puck slamsoff my pad with a satisfyingthud, but I don’t flinch.
Drop. React. Reset.
I track the next shot out of the corner of my eye, already moving before the rookie’s blade makes contact. Low and left.
I smother it with my glove and fire it back to center with a flick of my wrist.
Coach Holt blows the whistle, but I don’t stand. Just stay crouched, watching the ice like it owes me something.
