"Say what?"
"That you're mine."
My breath caught. His hips stilled beneath me, buried deep, and the sudden lack of movement was worse than everything else.
"Joel—"
"Say it and I'll let you come."
I could lie. I could say the words and not mean them, give him what he wanted just to get what I needed. He'd probably know, but he might let me have it anyway.
I didn't want to lie.
"I'm yours," I said. "I've been yours since you showed up at my truck after that first game."
His hand released my wrist and wrapped around my cock instead, stroking hard and fast while his hips started moving again.
“Then prove it.”
I came so hard my balls hurt, spilling over his fist and onto his chest, my whole body seizing up around him. He worked me through it, his hand relentless, his hips still thrusting, until I was shaking and oversensitive and making sounds that weren't words.
He buried himself deep and followed me over, a groan tearing out of him that he couldn't hold back. His whole body went rigid beneath me and I clenched around him, milking every pulse, watching his face as he fell apart.
I collapsed onto his chest. His arms came around me and held me there, his heart pounding against my cheek.
"Jesus Christ," I said when I could form words again.
"Mm." He pressed his face into my hair. "Worth the wait?"
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
His hand found mine on the mattress, fingers lacing through. For a few seconds it was just that. His weight half under me, our hands tangled together, his mouth pressing a kiss to my temple that had nothing to do with sex.
Then he stiffened.
I tracked the shift the way I'd track a defenseman telegraphing a check. His fingers loosened around mine. His mouth pulled back from my skin. He started to roll away.
"Hey." I caught his wrist before he could put distance between us. "That thing you were just doing."
"What thing?"
"The soft thing. With your hand." I tugged until he looked at me. "I liked it."
His jaw tightened. A long moment passed where neither of us spoke.
"You hungry?" he asked.
I didn't let go of his wrist. He didn't pull away.
After a while, I pulled him back down beside me, and he let me.
We lay there long enough that my breathing slowed and the sweat cooled on my skin. Joel reached for the phone on the nightstand and ordered room service without asking what I wanted, then took the medal off and set it beside the lamp like it was just jewelry.
"We've never had time like this," I said. "Where we weren't fucking or fighting."
His mouth twitched. "There was the race. First week."
