The week had been busy in preparation. The team had trained hard and Camille had been in the thick of her own personal rehab. They had flown to Boston that morning.
The team hotel in Boston was quiet at ten o'clock at night, most of the players already retreating to their rooms to rest before tomorrow's game. Generic landscape paintings hung at regular intervals along the walls, their blandness somehow comforting in its anonymity.
Camille's heart was pounding so hard her ribs ached with each beat.
She'd just come from the medical assessment—the final, crucial evaluation that would determine whether her knee could handle the rigors of competitive play. The arena's training room had been cold and clinical, the team doctor prodding and testing and measuring then watching her skate while Camille held her breath and prayed. Three weeks of rehab. Three weeks of watching from the sideline while her team prepared for the biggest game of the season.Three weeks of wondering if her body would betray her at the crucial moment.
And then the words: "You're cleared. Full contact. You can play tomorrow."
Camille had almost cried. Had bitten down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from falling, had thanked the doctor in a voice that only trembled slightly, had walked out of the training room on legs that suddenly felt new again.
Now she was standing outside Lou's hotel room, her hair still damp with sweat from the on-ice assessment, her body thrumming with adrenaline and relief and the desperate need to share this moment with the woman she loved.
She knocked, her knuckles rapping against the wood with quiet urgency.
The door opened almost immediately, as if Lou had been waiting. Lou stood there in soft pajama pants and a worn t-shirt, her dark hair damp, her green eyes widening at the sight of Camille's face.
"What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm cleared." Camille's voice cracked on the words. "Lou, I'm cleared. I can play tomorrow."
Lou's face transformed—the worry melting into joy, her whole body seeming to light up from within. "You're—Camille, that's amazing."
She pulled Camille into the room and into her arms in one fluid motion. The door swung shut behind them with a soft click, and then there was nothing but warmth—Lou's body pressed against hers, Lou's arms wrapped tight around her shoulders, Lou's voice murmuring congratulations against her hair. The scent of Lou's shampoo surrounded her, familiar and grounding.
"I was so scared," Camille whispered into Lou's neck. "The whole time they were testing me, I kept thinking—what if it's not ready? What if I have to watch from the sideline while you all fight the Wildcats without me?"
"But you don't have to." Lou pulled back enough to cup Camille's face in her hands, her thumbs brushing the tear tracks on Camille's cheeks. "You're going to be out there with us. We're going to do this together."
Camille leaned into the touch, letting Lou's steady presence ground her. The hotel room was warm and comfortable—a king bed with white sheets, a desk scattered with Lou's notes and strategy diagrams, the faint hum of the air conditioning filling the silence between words.
"I need a bath," Camille said, her voice dropping to something lower, more intimate. "I'm still sweaty from the assessment. And that tub in the bathroom looks big enough for two."
Lou's eyes darkened, her hands sliding from Camille's face to her shoulders. "Is that an invitation?"
"It's more of a request." Camille stepped back, holding Lou's gaze as her fingers found the hem of her own shirt. "Run me a bath. I want you to watch me undress."
The words landed with weight—a promise, a command, an offer all wrapped into one. Lou's breath caught audibly, her throat working as she swallowed.
"Yes ma'am."
She disappeared into the bathroom, and Camille heard the rush of water filling the tub, the clink of Lou checking the temperature, the soft sounds of preparation. The anticipation built in Camille's chest, mixing with the adrenaline of her clearance to create something heady and urgent.
When Lou returned to the doorway, her eyes slightly glazed and her cheeks flushed, Camille began.
She pulled her shirt over her head slowly, deliberately,letting the fabric drag across her skin before dropping it to the floor. Lou's gaze tracked the movement like a physical touch, tracing the lines of Camille's body with an intensity that made her nipples harden beneath her sports bra.
"You're so beautiful," Lou breathed.
Camille smiled and reached behind her back for the clasp of her bra. "Keep watching."
The bra joined the shirt on the floor. Camille's hands moved to the waistband of her leggings, her fingers hooking under the elastic, her hips swaying slightly as she began to push them down. The fabric slid over her thighs, her calves, pooling at her ankles before she stepped free.
She stood in just her underwear now—simple cotton, nothing fancy, but Lou was looking at her like she was the most exquisite thing in the world.
"The rest," Lou said, her voice rough. "Please."
Camille hooked her thumbs under the waistband and pulled her underwear down with agonizing slowness. The cool air of the hotel room kissed her heated skin, and she shivered—not from cold but from the weight of Lou's attention.
