She rakes her fingers down my abdomen and smiles against my mouth. “Need you.”
“I’m yours.” I lean back, allowing her to take control.
Her gaze roams over me like she’s soaking in those words.
They’ve always been true. I’ve been Adeline’s for as long as I’ve known that life outside of hockey exists. Since the first night we lay down in this bed all those years ago and she offered me comfort in my darkest moment. I think I fell in love with her right then and there. I had a crush before that, but when my head hit that pillow, I was a goner.
She pushes my shirt over my head, and I tug hers off too. We undress quickly, silently knowing exactly what we both need. I’m already hard, and the second she straddles me I feel how wet she is forme. With a firm hand, she pumps me once, twice, and I hiss out her name. “Adeline, please.”
A wicked smile plays at her lips. “Love when you beg for me.”
“Then you’ll be a very happy woman for a long, long time, because I’ll be begging for you for the rest of my life.” I hold her hips, guiding her up to her knees.
When she shifts down, taking me completely, my whole world shifts. Everything is right.
“Fuck, Addie baby.”
“Yes, Jonathan?”
God. When she says my name like that—the sexy rasp of her voice, the teasing—I feel whole but also undone. She rewires my insides. Fixes it all.
“I love you so goddamn much.” I squeeze her soft hips.
In response, she rolls them over me, stealing my breath.
Then she leans down and presses her mouth to mine, her breasts settling against my chest. “I love you too. Now fuck me. Help me forget everything else.”
Arms looped around her, I hold her to me as we make love.
She puts on a good front most of the time. And she really is fucking strong. But that small admission that she’s not okay is everything to me. Because Adeline isn’t hiding from me anymore. And the two of us aren’t hiding from the world.
By some miracle, Adeline fell asleep in my arms relatively quickly. But my mind is still spinning. It only takes one minute of contemplation before I send the text.
Me: I need a favor.
Uncle Frank: Anything.
I slip out of bed and tap his contact, then bring the phone to my ear. This conversation can’t be in writing. I’m Jonathan Francis for a reason. I wasn’t lying when I said Dirk should have looked into my family. Had he done just a little digging, he’d know about my family’s connection to the Irish Mafia. And I know without a doubt that my uncle will handle Dirk in the only way the man deserves.
FORTY-EIGHT
ADDIE
Savannah: Hi, hello. Um, what the hell is this?
Josie: That looks like a picture of our sweet Addie holding hands with JJ Hanson. Addie, dear, do you have something to tell us?
Sutton: Oh my god. I’m missing out on everything! Addie! JJ?!
I groanand take in the man lying next to me, snoring. It’s oddly endearing, really, that this beautiful, always put-together man does something so totally annoying. He never snored when we were kids sharing a bed. Then again, he always snuck out of my room before I woke up, so maybe he did and I slept through it.
Unsure of how to respond to my friends, I click on the link. I should probably figure out what they’re talking about before commenting anyway. While JJ and I walked out hand in hand last night, ready for the world to know, I’m not sure what’s being said or what images they captured.
When the page loads, I groan again, this time dropping my head back against my pillow. Shit. That is such a bad picture of me. Sure, I’m smiling at him, but my eyes are bloodshot from crying and my hair’s a mess.
It’s on ESPN, though. Not a gossip rag.
The headline readsAdeline Langfield and JJ Hanson: More Than Teammates?
