With one final thrust, he broke apart beneath me. His body tensed before shuddering violently as he came hard inside me. He tore his mouth from mine to let out a strangled moan of pure ecstasy that echoed through the room.
I watched as waves of pleasure washed over him, his face contorted in blissful agony. It was a sight that left me breathless.
As he slowly came down from his high, he loosened his grip on my hips but kept me close—our bodies still joined intimately. His breaths came in heavy pants against my neck as we clung to each other like lifelines.
"Kennedy," he whispered hoarsely after a moment, pressing soft kisses along my jawline. "You have no idea how perfect you are."
I smiled against his shoulder, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment settle over me. For now—for this moment—we were exactly where we belonged: together.
Chapter 24
Nick
I woke to the soft haze of morning light slipping through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the room. Kennedy’s body was curled into mine, her breath steady, warm against my skin. Her hair spread over my chest like silk, and I didn’t move. Not right away.
There was something sacred about moments like this—quiet, real. My arm rested heavy over her waist, like my body already knew what my mind hadn’t fully admitted: I wasn’t letting her go. Not now. Not ever.
But the world didn’t give a damn about quiet or sacred. And eventually, reality came knocking.
I slid out from under the sheets carefully, untangling from her like it physically hurt to pull away. Even the rumpled fabric clinging to my legs felt like a reminder of everything we shared last night—heat, tension, connection. I wanted to stay in that bed, buried in her, shut off the noise.
Instead, I padded to the kitchen and grabbed my phone.
Big mistake.
The moment the screen lit up, I saw them—notifications stacked like bricks in a wall I already knew I’d have to punch through.
Tabloid alerts. Gossip blogs. Headlines that made my stomach twist.
“Kennedy Hathaway: From NHL Scandal to Maddox’s Bed?”
“Nick Maddox’s Girl: Rebound or Real Deal?”
My jaw locked.
Scrolling was a bad idea, but I couldn’t stop. There we were—photos from last night. Us dancing, laughing, her body tucked against mine like she belonged there. Because she fucking did. And now those moments were plastered across screens for vultures to pick apart like meat off bone.
Comments bled in under the photos like rot:
“Didn’t she date Gary Delgado? Guess she’s quick to bounce.”
“Nick’s just her next upgrade.”
“Can’t believe he’s falling for that.”
I clenched my phone so hard my knuckles cracked.
These people didn’t know her. Didn’t know us. They didn’t see the way she looked at me when she thought no one was watching, or how she calmed the chaos in my head just by being close. They weren’t there for the quiet talks. The breakdowns. The truth.
Kennedy had already been dragged through enough shit—public betrayal, ridicule, whispers behind her back. She didn’t need this. Not again. Not because of me.
I exhaled through my nose, trying to calm the fire building in my chest. I wasn’t going to let them get to her. Not like last time.
My eyes drifted back to the bedroom.
She was still asleep, wrapped in our sheets, her face soft in sleep. Peaceful. Untouched by the noise I now carried in my hands.
I hated that I had to be the one to tell her.
