This thing between us is scary as fuck. Because Rylan might never be ready to acknowledge uspublicly. And I'm never going to want to hide, that's just not who I am. But fuck, when he looks at me like that...
The team starts breaking upnaturallyas midnight approaches. I hang back, letting the others file out first. Rylan does the same, maintaining careful distance. But I feel Nathan watching from his corner, that calculating look still on his face.
Outside, everyone splits up, some guys order Ubers while others head toward their cars. I start toward my building, but Rylan catches my arm. His touch is casual, nothing anyone would notice, but it burns through my jacket.
"My place,"he saysquietly, not quite meeting my eyes."It's closer."
Holy shit.My heart slams against my ribs. I've never been to Rylan's apartment. He treats it like his fortress of solitude, never inviting anyone over, as far as I know, and I wasn't sure he was ever going to let me get behind that wall.
"You sure?"I ask, giving him an out.
Hefinallylooks at mefully, and holy fuck the rawwantin his eyes makes me forget about Nathan Leblanc, about being careful, about everything except getting somewhere private.Right. Fucking. Now.
"Yeah," he says roughly. "I'm sure."
Chapter 33
RYLAN
My hands shake as I unlock my door. I don't bring people here. Ever. This space is mine alone. It's my sanctuary, my fortress against the world. But tonight, watching Jamie step through the door feels... right.
He moves through my carefully ordered space like a force of nature, all golden curls and casual grace. His presence fills up the emptiness I've never let myself acknowledge, making everything feel more alive.
"So this is Captain Collings' lair?" A hint of fond amusement colors his voice as he takes in the precise alignment of my shoes and the methodically arranged hockey memorabilia. "It's very... you."
The soft laugh that escapes him makes my chest tight. I should feel exposed and uncomfortable, having him here. Instead, for some reason, I want to show him everything.
I swallow hard, stepping closer. "Jamie." My voice comes out rough, and his eyes flicker up, a spark of heat in their blue depths.
"Yeah?" He takes the final step that closes the distance between us, and the warmth of his body sends a shiver down my spine. His fingers brush my jaw, and the gentle touch burns through all my control.
"I don't..." The words stick in my throat. I've never been good at asking for what I want. But Jamie waits, patient and steady, his thumb tracing slow circles on my skin.
"What do you want, Ry?" he whispers.
I trail my hands up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palms. "I don't want to hide anymore. Not with you."
His intake of breath is sharp. "Show me," he urges, and then his mouth is on mine.
It's different from the desperate encounters we've shared before. This is slower, deeper, like he's trying to memorize every breath, every touch. My back hits the wall, and I groan, pulling him flush against me. Every curve of his body molds to mine, and fuck, I'm already hard, already aching for him.
His lips move to my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point. "Been thinking about this all night," he murmurs. "The way you looked at the bar, like you wanted to devour me."
I can't form a coherent response, so I just tangle my hands in his hair, holding him close. His thigh slides between mine, making me buck my hips involuntarily as I seek more friction. "Bedroom," I manage. "Now."
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and Christ, the heat in his gaze steals my breath. "You sure?"
Instead of answering, I grab his hand and drag him down the hall. When we reach my bedroom, I start to reach for the light switch, part of my usual careful routine, but Jamie stops me.
"Leave it," he whispers, his lips brushing my ear. "Want to see you. All of you."
The words send a shiver down my spine, and something inside me shifts. His hands slide under my shirt, warm palms burning against my skin as he maps every muscle, every scar. When he pulls my shirt over my head, I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being naked.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathes, and his mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing down my chest. My head thunks back against the wall as his tongue finds my nipple. "Love how responsive you are. Love watching you lose control.
JAMIE
His bedroom distinctlyhim, sleek and minimalist, all controlled, neutral colors. Seeing him like this, in his space, the place where he feels most comfortable... It's like every fantasy about him come to life. His skin is creamy and soft, his every muscle and scar a testament to his dedication and the sacrifices he's made to the hockey gods. He's staring at me with wide eyes, his strong hands curled into fists, still fighting for control of himself even though I know how desperately he craves to let go.
