CHAPTER forty-nine #4
And right now, the entire team is celebrating like we've been handed the Stanley Cup.
Everyone except me.
Because I'm upstairs, in my room, with Caroline.
My lucky charm. My good-luck kiss. My reason for every damn goal.
The adrenaline's still buzzing under my skin, but it's not the crowd I'm craving. It's her.
She's tucked against me on the edge of my bed—away from the chaos, the beer, the shouting—and honest to God, I can't imagine a better victory lap than this.
I grin against her mouth between kisses. "You know," I murmur, "they're gonna say I ditched my own party."
Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging lightly. "You did," she whispers, smiling against my lips. "For me."
"Worth it," I say, not even pretending to sound guilty. "Ten out of ten. Would ditch again."
She laughs, the sound muffled as I kiss her again, softer this time. Every time our lips meet, it hits me like muscle memory—like this is the real game I never want to stop playing.
My favorite hobby? Easy.
Kissing Caroline Pennington until the rest of the world fades into white noise.
She breaks the kiss just long enough to tease, "You realize they're gonna come looking for you, right? You disappearing after a win? They'll assume you got kidnapped."
I rest my forehead against hers, still a little breathless. "Let them look. Tell them I was busy doing charity work—feeding my soul."
Her eyebrows arch. "Feeding your soul?"
"Uh-huh," I say, grinning. "It's starving. Needs constant replenishment. Preferably through your lips."
She smacks my chest lightly, laughing. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in love with you," I counter before she can roll her eyes, which she does anyway, but she's smiling when she pulls me back in.
The music downstairs surges again—someone must've found the team playlist—but all I can think about is how her laugh vibrates against my mouth and how every kiss with her feels like winning all over again.
One second we're kissing, laughing, her hands tugging at my jersey, mine lost somewhere in her hair—and the next, it's like the world tilts. The room fades. The noise downstairs turns into distant static.
I don't even know how it happens—just that it does.
Somewhere between her laugh and my next breath, the space between us disappears completely.
And now we're here, breathless, tangled in the kind of closeness that makes every inch of my skin feel alive. My heart's pounding like it's still chasing that final goal.
She's looking at me, those gorgeous aquamarine eyes catching the dim light, and for a second I forget every word I've ever known.
She's not just my world.
She's the whole damn universe—the gravity that keeps me from spinning off the edge.
Her breath hitches, hot and fucking wet against my neck, her lips brushing my skin as if she can't decide whether to kiss me or devour me whole. Every sound she make—those soft, broken whimpers—feel like a goddamn flame licking up my spine, burning me alive.
She is sprawled beneath me, her body a fucking masterpiece of curves and heat, her thighs trembling like she is one sweet stroke away from coming undone.
"Caroline," I growl, my voice rough, gravelly, like I've been gargling whiskey and sin.
Her name tastes like honey on my tongue, and I want more—more of her, more of this, more of the way she's fucking melting under me like I am the only thing that mattered.
Her eyes—those fucking eyes—lock onto mine, wide and wild, pupils blown with need. She is staring at me like I am her fucking salvation, like she will drown if I don't keep her afloat.
And Christ, I want to drown with her. Want to sink so deep into her I forget my own goddamn name.
"Just keep looking at me like that," I whisper, my lips brushing hers, teasing, taunting. "Keep looking at me like I'm everything, baby. Feels like I could live a hundred lifetimes in your eyes and still never get enough."
Her hands claw at my shoulders, nails digging into my skin just hard enough to leave marks.
She arches her back, pressing her breasts against my chest, and holy fuck, she is soft. So soft. My cock throbs, hard and aching, trap between us, begging for release.
I could feel her heat through the thin fabric of her panties, her pussy is wet and ready, dripping for me.
"Zach," she moans, and the way she says my name—low, desperate, like a fucking prayer—sent a bolt of pure, unrelenting lust straight to my dick.
I can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but grind against her, feeling her body yield to mine like she is made for me.
Her lips part, her tongue darting out to wet them, and I fucking lost it.
I capture her mouth in a savage kiss, our tongues tangling like we are trying to claim each other, to mark each other as ours forever.
She moans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, and I swear to fucking God, I've never been so hard in my life.
I whisper against her mouth, barely holding myself together.
"You have no idea what you do to me. Every time you touch me, I forget who I was before this."
She looks at me through half-lidded eyes, dazed, lips trembling between wanting to speak and not finding the words. And in that look, I see it—the same helplessness I feel. The same surrender.
"You make me feel... so alive, Zach," she manages, barely audible. "Like I could fall apart and still be safe."
Her hands slide up to my neck, fingers threading into my hair, pulling me closer, deeper. Her nails scrape against my scalp, sending shivers down my spine, and I growl into her mouth, the sound feral, possessive.
I can't get enough of her—her taste, her scent, the way her body moves against mine like she is born to be under me.
"Feel that?" I murmur against her lips, my hand sliding down to cup her pussy through her panties.
She gasps, her hips bucking into my touch, and I press harder, circling her clit with my thumb until she is whimpering, writhing, begging for more. "Feel how fucking wet you are for me?"
"Zach," she breathe, her voice trembling, breaking, "please..."
"Please what, baby?" I tease, nipping at her bottom lip, my fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her panties to find her slick, swollen folds. "Tell me what you want."
"You," she moans, her hips jerking as my fingers slide into her, hot and tight and fucking perfect. "I want you. All of you."
"You've got me," I growl, my voice thick with need, my cock throbbing like a goddamn drumbeat. "You've fucking got me, Caroline."
Her pussy clenches around my fingers, squeezing them tight, and I fucking lost it.
I rip her panties off, tossing them aside, and position myself between her legs. I grab a condom from the nightstand, tear open the packet, and roll it on. Then I position myself at her entrance.
She is so fucking wet, so ready, and when I push into her, she screams my name, her body trembling as she takes every inch of me.
I thrust into her, hard and deep, and she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper. Her nails rake down my back, and I groan, the pain only fueling the fire burning inside me.
Her pussy is tight, so fucking tight, and every time I pull out, she whimpers, like she can't stand to be empty.
"You feel that?" I growl, my thrusts rough, relentless, each one driving her closer to the edge.
"You feel how fucking deep I am inside you?"
"Yes," she moans, her head thrashing against the pillow, her breasts bouncing with every thrust. "Yes, Zach, yes..."
I move with her, guided by instinct, by the rhythm of our breathing, by the tiny, broken sounds she tries to hide. My thoughts are a blur, my heart a thunderstorm. All I can think is don't stop. Don't ever stop.
"Zach...oh my—"
"Caroline..." Her name leaves my lips in a rasp. "You have no idea what you do to me."
I rest my hand over her heart, feeling it race beneath my palm. "Right here," I whisper. "You feel that? That's me. That's what you do to me."
Her breath stutters, her hands clutching at my shoulders as though she's trying to hold on to something too big to contain. The air between us vibrates with it—this ache, this need, this unspoken truth that's always been there, waiting to break free.
"I can feel you," I whisper, voice breaking. "Every heartbeat. Every breath. You're inside me just as much as I am inside you."
And when she looks at me again—eyes shining, lips trembling—it feels like everything inside me finally gives in. Like the world's been holding its breath and just let go.
God, I'm losing myself. And I don't even care.
I fuck her harder, faster, my hips slamming into hers, our bodies slapping together in a rhythm that is primal, feral. Her moans turned to screams, her slick folds are clenching around me like a vice, and I know she is close.
So fucking close.
"Come for me, baby," I tell her, my voice rough, commanding. "Come on my cock."
And she does.
Her body arches, her pussy squeezing me so tight I thought I will fucking die, and she screams my name as she comes, her orgasm shaking her like a fucking earthquake.
I follow her over the edge, my cock pulsing, emptying inside her, filling her with everything I have.
We collapse together, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, our hearts pounding in sync. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest, and I kiss the top of her head, breathing in her scent, her essence.
"Zach," she whispers, her voice soft, sleepy, "I love you."
"I love you too, baby," I murmur, holding her close, never wanting to let go.
And in that moment, I know I will do anything—anything—to keep her safe, to keep her mine.
We're just lying in my bed, snuggling.
Caroline's wearing my hoodie, her legs tangled with mine under the blanket, and I've got one arm draped around her shoulders. Neither of us feels like moving.
She shifts a little, sliding her hand over my chest until our fingers find each other. I thread mine through hers, holding on.
"So, next week," I murmur, eyes on our joined hands, "we'll be heading back to Naples."
"You doing okay with that?"