His mouth hitches. “There we go.”
“You’re the evil one,” I gasp as a wave of heat sweeps through me.
Rory’s moves me faster, biceps flexing. I never stood a chance. The flutters start, and his eyes flare hot like he feels them.
“Let go,” he rasps, eyes bright. “Let go for me and let me win.”
The noise that slips out of me is half-frustration, half-defeat because I’m already tightening up. The pressure rises and I bite my lip to hold in the moan, but the way he’s hitting my G-spot is too good, the way he’s rubbing my clit with his body is too perfect. I can’t hold off.
“Oh god.” I pitch forward, shaking and tensing on Rory as my release hits me. I’m mindless as stark pleasure hurtles through me, nails digging into his muscles. Wave after wave radiates through me and my teeth sink into his shoulder while I hold on tight.
“I need to come,” he grits out and I nod feverishly.
“Come with me,” I beg.
Inside me, he swells, and his hips jerk upward, pounding into me, before he groans my name and stiffens. Through the last tremors of my orgasm, I memorize how his lips part, how he looks at me with desperation and love, how he holds me tight like he’ll never let me go.
We drift back down to earth with our hearts pounding, me pressing kisses to his neck, his cheeks, his lips.
“Told you,” he murmurs, and I laugh against his mouth.
“I guess we both won.”
He sighs happily before he takes a deep breath and sits up. “Okay, Hartley. No more lazing around. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
I roll onto my back and kick him away when he tries to pull me out of bed. “You don’t have practice today.”
He tilts a grin down at me. “We need to move you in.”
“Today?”
He nods. “Today, Hartley. I finally got you to say yes, and I’m not waiting a second longer.”
My heart explodes with love, and I shriek with laughter as he lifts me out of bed, hauls me over his shoulder, and carries me to the shower.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“Never.”
I’m still laughing, still squirming over his shoulder as he turns the water on. He sets me on my feet and I loop my arms around his neck, gazing up at my handsome, unhinged hockey player.
“I’m keeping you, Rory Miller.”
EPILOGUE
RORY
One month later “This studio will be used for dance classes,” Hazel says, leading the party into the second room.
Hazel got possession of her studio yesterday, and today we’re having a party in the space to celebrate. The sign isn’t finished yet but her website and social media is up, and gaining momentum and interest.
Ember Studios. Spark your love of movement.
Everyone is here—her family, my family, the Storm players, the team staff, and her yoga students. Someone turns the music up, champagne is popped, and people wander over to the big windows overlooking the North Shore Mountains, talking and laughing.
At my side, Hazel smiles with a wistful look, like she can’t believe it’s real.
I know exactly how she feels. I’m still pinching myself that Hazel Hartley fell for me.
“I’m so proud of you, Hartley.” I press one, two, three kisses against her mouth. “So proud.”
“Thanks.” Her palms flatten on my chest and she gazes up at me, biting her lip. “I love you.”
I would have thought the thrill of hearing it so often would wear off, but no. Every fucking time Hazel Hartley tells me she loves me is the best moment of my life. “I love you, too. So fucking much, Hazel. You have no idea.”
Her smile turns teasing. “I have some idea.”
The grin I give her is pure arrogance. This morning, we played the how many times can Hazel come before begging for mercy game, and I’ve been thinking about it all day. Especially the part where she got on her knees and sucked my cock so well I’m pretty sure my soul left my body.
“You sure?” My lips brush her neck, and she shudders. “Because just say the word and I’ll remind you.”
“Cocky.” She smiles. “So fucking cocky.”
I press another kiss to her neck, addicted to her. “You know it.”
My parents appear in front of us, and we straighten up.
“Congratulations, honey,” my mom says, wrapping Hazel in a big hug, and when she pulls away, my dad gives Hazel a firm handshake.
“Great job, Hazel.”
She grins. “Thanks, Rick.”
He steps back beside my mom and takes her hand, holding on like she might get away again. My mom meets my eye before smiling down at their joined hands.
Seeing my parents holding hands is still a little weird. They never did it before, but they never went to couples’ therapy either, or went on date nights or smiled at each other the way they do now.
I’ve gone a few times with them to therapy. Slowly, we’re putting our family back together in a better way than before.
“Hazel said you’re a dancer,” my mom says to Hazel’s mom. They all met last night when Hazel and I took our families out for dinner.
“Oh.” She blanches but recovers, laughing a little. “I’m not the dancer I used to be.” Her throat works and Hazel gives her an encouraging smile. “But it’s just for fun, even if I don’t look like I used to.”
Hazel beams, eyes shining bright. “Exactly.”
Our moms make plans to have lunch later in the week while Ken and my dad pull Streicher into a conversation and Pippa and Owens wander over from the group of players.
“Look at this place!” Pippa practically jumps on Hazel, hugging her. “It looks so good.”
Hazel sighs as they pull apart, looking around the space with that sparkling, wistful expression again. Over the past month, she’s put every spare moment into her studio plans.
“Thanks.” Her mouth twists and she glances at me and Owens. “I’m glad I made the decision to stay on with the team part time, though, even if it’s busy.”
When Hazel put in her resignation so she could start studio renovations, Ward must have seen her reluctance to leave a position she loved, so he made her an offer. Part time, as many or as few players to work with as she wants, and flexible hours. Streicher, Owens, and Volkov all volunteered to come to her studio for physio sessions, which made her decision easy.
“Aw.” Owens gives her a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. “We’re going to miss you at the arena.”
She chuckles. “You’ll see me at games. I’ll be the one wearing Miller’s jersey.”
We smile at each other, and my heart beats with pride and affection.
Owens’s phone rings and he pulls it out, frowning. “Darce?” He steps away, still frowning as he listens, and when he returns, worry is written all over his face.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” He blinks, shell-shocked. “Darcy and Kit broke up.”
Hazel, Pippa, and I fall silent. Owens stares at the floor, distracted, before he shakes himself.
“I need to go,” he tells Hazel. “Congrats on the studio.”