“The championship is theirs.” He nodded at the team. “But the foundation? That was you.” He extended his hand. “You built something here, Novikov. I just kept it going.”
I shook his hand, surprised by the firmness of his grip, the respect in his eyes.
“Boston’s lucky to get you,” he continued. “You’re a good coach—a great one.” He glanced at Eva, Cole, and Tristan, kissing and laughing and celebrating together. “When you’re not distracted by pussy. Or cock, as the case may be.”
I huffed a laugh.
He clapped my shoulder once, hard. “Take care of them. All of them. And Novikov?”
“Yeah?”
“Come back and visit sometimes. These boys miss you, even if they won’t say it.”
I looked at the team—at Tristan being mobbed by his teammates, at Massi lifting the trophy, at Rami and Haruto jumping on the ice together.
“I will,” I promised.
Caruso nodded once then turned back to his team, already shouting for them to gather for photos.
I watched for a moment longer—watched what I’d built continue without me, watched them succeed, watched them celebrate—and found I wasn’t sad about it.
I’d left this behind to be with the people I loved, to be the person they needed me to be.
It was the right choice.
Hours later,after drinks with the team and celebrations and press, we made it back to the hotel room. We were barely in the door before Tristan pressed Eva against it, his mouth on hers, his hands pulling up her skirt.
“Fuck, you’re not wearing—” He groaned when he found her bare. “Jesus, kitten, you’re soaked.”
“Told you,” Cole said, locking the door behind us and leaning against it with a satisfied smirk. “Been keeping her ready for you all night.”
“Good boy,” Tristan breathed, and fuck, the way Cole’s eyes darkened at the praise made my cock hard.
Tristan lifted Eva up and wrapped her legs around his waist, still fully dressed in his suit from the press conference. “Fuck, kitten. I’m gonna fuck you right here. Can’t wait—I need you too much.”
“Yes,” she gasped, pulling him closer. “Please, Tris, I need you.”
He freed his cock with one hand and thrust into her. The sound she made was desperate and raw. My eyes flicked to Cole, who palmed himself through his pants.
Tristan fucked her against the door—hard, fast, and frantic, working off weeks of playoff stress, hours of restraint and the sweet victory of winning it all. Her head fell back against the door, her mouth open in a silent scream as he pounded into her.
“That’s it, sparrow,” Cole cooed. “Take his cock. Show him how much you missed him today. Show him what a good girl you can be for our champion.”
“Our champion,” she repeated, breathless, and Tristan groaned at the words.
“Fuck, say that again.”
“Our champion,” Eva moaned. “You won, Tristan. You fucking won.”
He came with a shout, burying himself deep inside her, then reaching down to tease her clit until she did the same, her cries muffled against his shoulder.
For a moment, they stayed there, breathing hard, Tristan holding her up against the door, their faces buried in each other’s necks, holding each other.
He carried her to the bed, still inside her, and laid her down gently. When he pulled out, his cum leaked out of her, and fuck, if that wasn’t the prettiest thing I’d seen all day.
“Look at that,” Cole breathed, moving closer. “Our girl marked up and dripping.”
Eva smiled lazily up at us, boneless and satisfied. “Someone’s gotta clean that up.”
