Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
OLLIE
Chloe’s still trembling when I carry her through the flat, arms tight around my neck like she thinks I’ll vanish if she lets go. She’s light in my arms, but the weight of what she told me earlier, about her dad, about the threats, about the way Murphy hates her, sits heavy between us.
I don’t set her down right away. I hold her close, breathing her in, steadying myself with the faint scent of her shampoo and the feel of her heart hammering against mine.
“You’re safe,” I whisper into her hair. “I’ve got you.”
Her grip loosens just enough that I can ease her onto the sofa. She’s flushed from crying, cheeks blotchy, eyes red. Beautiful, even like this. Especially like this.
“Sorry,” she mutters, swiping at her face like she’s embarrassed.
I crouch in front of her, take her wrists gently, lower her hands. “Don’t you dare apologise. Not to me.”
For a second, she just looks at me, like she’s waiting for me to flinch, to second-guess, to back away now that I know the full story. But I don’t. I can’t. My chest feels too tight, too full.
“Chlo,” I say softly, “I’m in this. All of it. I don’t care how difficult it gets. I’ve told you already, I’m not going anywhere.”
Something flickers in her eyes then, fear, hope, maybe both, and when she leans forward, lips trembling against mine, I know she’s testing me. Asking if I’ll keep pulling her close, even when she tries to push me away with all her baggage.
I answer with my mouth, kissing her like she’s the only thing keeping me alive.
The kiss turns desperate fast, all teeth and tongue and breathless little gasps. She climbs into my lap without hesitation, straddling me, fingers fisting in my hoodie like she’s holding on for dear life.
“Bedroom,” she pants against my mouth.
I shake my head, palms sliding up under her shirt to the warm skin of her back. “Here. Now. I need you to feel it, Chlo. Need you to know I’m not going anywhere.”
Her groan is low, needy, and it makes my cock throb painfully against my jeans. She grinds down instinctively, and my head falls back against the sofa, eyes squeezing shut.
“Christ,” I rasp. “You’re killing me.”
She smirks, though it’s shaky. “Not the worst way to go.”
I laugh, then cut myself off with another kiss, hands already tugging her shirt over her head. She’s bare beneath, nipples pebbled and aching. I suck one into my mouth, rolling my tongue over the sensitive peak until she gasps, arching into me.
“Ollie,”
“Shhh,” I murmur against her skin. “Let me take care of you.”
She shudders, hips rocking helplessly. I yank my hoodie off, then my shirt, desperate for her touch. When her nails scrape down my chest, it sends sparks straight to my groin.
We fumble with jeans, hers first, sliding them down over her hips until she’s wriggling free in nothing but tiny lace underwear. I groan, cupping her through the fabric, feeling the heat and slickness already soaking through.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I whisper, kissing her again, slower this time. Pouring everything I can’t say into the press of my lips.
She moans into my mouth, then tugs my fly open, shoving my jeans down clumsily. My cock springs free, hard and aching, and her hand wraps around me. I nearly lose it right there.
“Chlo, wait,” My voice breaks as her thumb brushes the head. “I want this to last.”
She smirks again, teasing. “Then stop talking and screw me.”
I groan at the command, flipping us so she’s on her back on the sofa. Her hair fans out against the cushions, eyes dark and wide with need. I tear her underwear aside, rub myself against her slick folds, and she gasps, arching up.
“Please,” she whispers, voice cracking. “Please, Ollie.”
I sink into her with one slow, steady thrust, and it feels like home. Like nothing else matters, not the rink, not the team, not her dad. Just us.
Her moan tears through me as I bottom out. She clutches at my shoulders, nails digging in. “God, you feel…”
“Yeah,” I rasp, hips pulling back, then slamming forward again. “So do you.”
The rhythm builds, urgent but not rushed. Every thrust is deliberate, every kiss softer than the last. I want her to feel it, not just the sex, but the truth underneath. That she’s mine, that I’m hers, that nobody can tear this away from us.
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Don’t stop,” she begs, voice breaking. “Don’t you dare stop.”
“Never,” I vow, kissing her hard. “Not with you.”
We move together like we’ve been doing this forever, like our bodies already know the rhythm. And when she shatters beneath me, gasping my name, I follow her instantly, spilling inside her with a groan that leaves me trembling.
After, I stay inside her, forehead pressed to hers, both of us panting, sweaty, tangled.
“See?” I whisper against her lips. “Not running. Never running.”
Her answering kiss is softer, wet with tears. But at least now, they’re not from pain.
The comedown is quiet, tender. I clean her up, pull the blanket from the sofa over us, and let her curl into my chest. My hand strokes lazily up and down her back until her breathing evens out, until she drifts against me with a little sigh that makes my chest ache in the best way.
I don’t sleep. Can’t. My mind’s too full, spinning with everything. Her dad, my contract, the way Murphy looked at me in the locker room.
And yet, when I look down at Chloe’s face pressed into my chest, I know I’d risk it all again without hesitation.
The rink is empty when I arrive the next evening. Everyone else cleared out hours ago after practice, leaving only the faint hum of the refrigeration system and the ghostly echo of skates long gone.
I sit in the locker room for a while, staring at the taped sticks lined neatly on the rack, the jerseys hanging silent. Then I lace up my skates, tug my hoodie tighter, and step out onto the ice.
The first glide is always the same. Cool air rushing my face, the sharp slice of blades carving through silence. Out here, the noise fades. The doubts, the whispers, the look on Coach’s face when he found out about Chloe.
But the fears creep in anyway.
What if her dad makes good on his threats? What if I’m not worth the risk, hip shot to hell, reputation dragging me down? What if this - her, us - isn’t enough to outweigh the trouble I’ve caused?
I push harder, skating full tilt down the length of the rink, stopping with a sharp spray of ice. My lungs burn, but I welcome it. It drowns out the ache in my chest.
I don’t know if I’ll still have a contract at the end of the season. I don’t know if the team will forgive me for dragging Chloe into their space. But I do know this; she’s worth the fight.
Even if it costs me everything else.
I circle the rink again, faster this time, until my muscles scream and my vision blurs. Only then do I let myself collapse at centre ice, staring up at the rafters, chest heaving.
The silence presses in, heavy, but not empty. For the first time in weeks, it feels like clarity.
I whisper it to the empty arena, just to make it real.
“She’s worth it.”
The words echo back, steady and sure. And for tonight, that’s enough to keep me grounded.