10. CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER TEN
10
Here I am, in the lap of Judson Wells, the notorious playboy defenseman that every best friend would warn you about.
I'm not just crossing the line—I'm doing a full-on defiant dance on it. And yet, as his hands steady on my hips, I can't find it within me to care about the whispers that'll follow.
I weave my fingers into his hair, that blond, messy crown I’ve imagined so many times, longing to touch it again.
Spoiler: it’s as soft and unruly as you’d want it to be. Each twist and pull sends signals racing down my spine, lighting me up from the inside out.
He looks up at me with those eyes, green and deep enough to drown in, and all my uncertainties bubble to the surface. I’ve seen this look before—on the first night we met, at that bar where the air was charged with rivalry and attraction. He had no idea who I was then, just another girl in a crowded room. But that night, something sparked, a connection neither of us could deny despite everything that should have stopped it dead.
His reputation is well-known—a string of conquests trailing behind him like some badge of honor. But as his breath fans across my skin, I realize he's more. He's pulling me into his orbit, and the scary part?
I want to find my way in.
It's not just about my father's opposition anymore—it’s about losing myself in his gravitational pull on me and figuring out if it’ll work. It’s been there since his smirk first caught my eye since his jokes made me laugh despite the voice in my head screaming caution.
His hands move slowly up my back, careful and deliberate, as if he knows just how close I am to the edge. His touch is saying all the things we’re not voicing, all the risks we’re taking by being together in this dimly lit SUV.
"Rory," Wells breathes out, breaking the kiss for a moment, and it’s like he’s said my name for the first time. My heart feels too big for my chest, threatening to betray how deep I am in this.
This was supposed to be a one-night stand. Not a secret getaway in Chicago to come see him.
My father will kill me.
The whole Montreal Blizzard team will murder me.
I can’t find an ounce of rationality to stop me from doing this.
"We’re playing with fire, you know that?” I whisper, tracing his jawline, willing my hands to memorize every angle.
He smirks up at me, that boyish grin that's both wicked and inviting. “Best kind of game there is, Snowflake."
He’s fearless, unapologetic, and freaking exhilarating.
I like that about him.
I really like that about him.
"This is going to end badly," I mutter, a realistic voice in my head attempting to rival the pull of my heart. Images of Dad's disapproving glare flash before me.
If we ever went public, we wouldn't just rock the boat; we’d flip the damn thing.
"Maybe," he concedes with a nod, acknowledging the weight of the truth in my words. "But doesn’t something about this feel worth the risk?"
It does.
And his question hooks me in deeper. Because he's right. There's something in how he holds me, a certainty that pierces through the chaos. A hope that even though it’s wrong, we might be able to be happy.
Without another word, he leans up, bringing us face-to-face. His nose brushes against mine, and I close the gap, surrendering to the sheer need that I want him.
Plain and simple.
His hands tighten on my waist, locking me to him as if we're a single entity—and for the briefest moments, we are. The world outside, with its rules and rivalries, fades to a distant buzz. In the sanctuary of Wells' arms, I find a freedom I didn't know I was seeking.
The kiss deepens, and my fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer—if that's even possible. The urgency builds a silent crescendo that drowns out my doubts. I’m here now with him, and our collision course seems less like impending doom and more like destiny.
He slides my panties over, and his fingers brush against my wetness. I moan for him, which causes those digits to thrust into me as he begins pumping them in and out.
“Ride my hand, baby,” he muses, biting my lower lip. “And then when we get to your hotel room, I’ll show you—”
“Do it now,” I plead needily, and I feel zero shame in how it came out. “Let me ride your cock, Wells. I need it.”
“That’s what I want to hear. You ready for it?” he presses cockily, and if he were anyone else, I’d stop this shit right here. But I know he needs to hear it. I know he needs the security in me that I need in him- that we’re in this together amidst everyone else.
I fumble with his jeans in silent response, and he springs out hard and ready for me seconds later. Stroking him once, Wells responds by thrusting his tongue inside my mouth. He tastes so good.
Quickly, I position him to descend his length, and Wells removes his fingers. I’m quick to act to get what I need. His cock fills me to the hilt, and I throw my head back in pleasure because I need this like I need air.
Wells grounds his hands on my hips as I ride him. Our grunts and moans fill the small space of the SUV. The movie is still playing in the background as car doors slam shut.
I don’t care about anyone seeing us.
I have to have a moment to break apart with Wells because the attraction is that strong.
It’s that powerful.
“Fuck, Snowflake,” he growls beneath me. “You needed it bad.” I bob my head in succession to his comment, and he pushes down on my body to get deeper. “I’ll never leave you wanting again, baby. I’ll fly to you at any time if you need it.”
“I’m so gonna take you up on that,” I breathe heavily.
And I will.
There’s nothing that’s going to make me stop when he feels so damn good.
“Please do,” he mutters softly. “I want to show you that I’d give you everything. You’re worth it.”
His words are a vow, an oath that seals the bond being forged in this breathless moment. Wells doesn’t just see me as some conquest; he sees me as someone worth crossing worlds for.
I look down to see the softness in his gaze. His green eyes reflect a depth of emotion he doesn't even have to voice—the intensity there tells me I've broken through something he sets up against everyone else.
I want to ask him how we’ll do this, but it’ll ruin the moment. It will make us see the reality, and I don’t want to do that just yet.
I kiss him then, sealing our pact with all the passion, fear, and hope thundering through my veins.
I’m worth it, and so is he.
“Fuck me harder, baby,” he mutters against my lips. “I wanna get you back to the hotel room ASAP.”
“You want me to come already?” I tease, even though it’s something I wouldn’t mind doing right now. “I don’t want to stop something so good, Wells.”
“I have to get you on a bed,” he practically begs. “Or a table. We’re going several rounds tonight, Snowflake.”
Just like last time.
It's a common occurrence that I’m not negotiating at all.
“We’ll go all kinds of ways,” he continues, his voice a seductive whisper that sends shivers down my spine. "But your ass in the air is the one I'm lookin' forward to most." The imagery grips me, and I can't stop the instinctual reaction that tightens around him. He groans, a raw sound that fuels my wanton movements even further. "Would you like that?"
"You know I would." My response is breathy, loaded with anticipation and a wild craving that only he can satisfy.
"Then fuck this cock and let me take you back." His firm and desperate directive pushes me to the edge of controlled excitement.
Pressure is my enemy—it always has been—but with Wells, it's different. He doesn't constrict me; he frees me. Each word that spills from his lips, each scenario he conjures up, sparks a fire within me—one I'm eager to explore.
"Like this?" I challenge, increasing my rhythm, moving with more intent as I drive myself down, seeking to meet his deepest orgasm with my own.
The steering wheel is in the way, but I’m not going to stop. Not when I’m starving to watch Wells break apart around me.
"Just like that," he affirms between labored breaths, his fingers digging into my ass, urging me on. "You're perfect, Snowflake. This needs to work."
A smile breaks across my face, unstoppable and genuine. His use of needs touches something deep within me.
It's not just about sex—it's about connection, about finding a place and a person where you fit, where you are utterly and completely yourself.
And that’s what scares me the most because while everyone else has always seen me in the confines of predefined roles—daughter, rebel, the untouchable's prize—Wells sees me. Ever since that night at the bar when the rest of the world faded into a dim background, where the rules didn't apply to us, and we were just Rory and Wells—well, he was Wells, and I was a stranger—two people drawn together by a magnetism too powerful to ignore.
I'm claiming this time with every push and pull, even if the world outside this SUV threatens to tear it all apart.
“It’ll work,” I claim, hoping I’m not making a promise I can’t keep. “We’ll figure it out.”
Wells seems to love that answer because he meets each of my descents with a thrust of his own.
With the palm of his hand, he pushes me closer and latches onto my neck with his lips. He mauls me with his tongue and lips, adding little bites that drive me wild and closer to my impending orgasm.
“God, Wells, I love that,” I mewl, urging him on because he knows exactly what to do to get me closer.
It’s as if he’s read a book about me a million times just to learn.
He continues with what’s working for me. And it doesn’t take long.
I’m breaking apart before Wells unleashes his impatience on me. Each propel of his hips hits deeper, sending my orgasm into another flurry of uncontrollable lust.
Wells is something else altogether for me, and I’m not sure how to break it down, but it’s dangerous. Each movement he makes is with intention, and it doesn’t take long before I feel Wells let go, too. Each forceful thrust reminds me of the desire he has for me. We have a chemistry that defies reason. I can’t put my finger on it, but it's the kind of danger I'm unable to resist.
“Fuck me, Snowflake,” Wells mutters in the crook of my neck. “I need a second before I can see straight to drive.”
Laughter bursts from my throat as I thread my fingers through his soft hair. “Aren’t you supposed to be known as a playboy?”
“I haven’t fucked someone that hard in a long time,” he claims. “Since you, baby.”
A bit of doubt fills my head, but I quickly shove it away with the rest of my guilt.
This is our moment.
I won’t allow the world to ruin it and split it into two.
“Now you’re saving yourself for me,” I tease before Wells pulls his face from the safe spot he was just in and looks up at me with those lucid green eyes.
“Of course I am. I thought I made that clear.”
“For how long?” I push back. “Because I’m not—”
“I planned on not scaring you with the fine details of that question. However, I can mention them if it sets your mind at ease.” I open my mouth to ask him what they are, but he offers them anyway.
“Forever.”
Shit.
That’s a long-ass time.
And I do want these moments. More than anything, I’ve wished for in a long time. However, I just stumbled back into reality, and the aftermath of our fucking didn’t last that long for some reason.
Maybe it’s because of all the noises outside of the SUV.
Or that I’m coming to my senses.
Regardless, I’m not appreciating the unease I suddenly feel at the realization that I’m getting too deep, too fast.
“See,” he muses with a slight smirk, generating a twinkle in his eyes. “I told you it’d scare you off.”
I lift my chin proudly because I refuse to show that off. “I’m not scared.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No.”
Wells stares at me briefly before dipping his head in acknowledgment. “Okay then. Are you ready to head back to the hotel?”
I am.
I want to spend as much time with him as possible in Chicago, but I’ll need to leave tomorrow night.
“What time do you have practice?”
“I’m feeling a headache comin’ on,” he claims with a smile. “I might not make it.”
I roll my eyes; he can’t miss it. Practice is just as important as a real game. “You need to go.”
“I don’t need to go,” he retorts lightly. “Have you seen me play?”
I laugh.
“You expect me to be a Wolverines fan now?”
“I expect you to be my fan now.” He reaches out again and cups my face. “And I can’t wait to see you in my jersey.”