Preorder Bonus Scene
Tessa – One Year Later
The sound of my heels echoes down the hallway of Kolmont’s athletics center.
Championship banners line the walls, framed photos from past hockey seasons filling the spaces between them—including the year Clay won his first NCAA championship.
Someone strung lights along the doorframes for the holidays, and a small tree glows at the end of the hall, its ornaments in blue, black, and silver.
Even after a year, it still feels surreal walking these halls knowing Clay’s office is at the end.
I stop outside his door and smooth down my blouse, trying to ignore the way my pulse kicks up before I push the door open.
I catch him mid-call. His office looks exactly like I’d expect—organized chaos.
A whiteboard filled with plays, stat sheets stacked on one side of his desk, and a nearly empty coffee mug that’s probably gone cold by now.
Through the window behind him, the rink is visible below, a few players still running drills.
He glances up, finally noticing me, and the serious expression he’s wearing shifts in an instant. That quiet look of his—the one that’s half relief, half something softer—still makes my heart seize.
He holds up a finger, signaling for a second. “Yeah, send me the updated schedule, and I’ll sign off on it tonight,” he says into the phone.
I set my purse on the couch and shrug off my coat, pretending not to notice the way his eyes follow me.
“Don’t let me interrupt, Coach,” I tease, propping a hand on the edge of his desk.
“You already did,” he says, his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile.
He finishes the call a moment later, setting the phone down with a quiet click, his gaze finding me again.
“You’re early,” he says, voice low.
“I couldn’t wait.”
He shifts back in his chair, that small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t even knock.”
“Didn’t need to,” I counter, circling his desk slowly. “Besides, I figured you wouldn’t mind the interruption.”
“Depends on the reason.”
I stop in front of him, resting a hand on the desk. “You always assume I’ve got one.”
His eyes flick up, amused. “Because you usually do.”
“You’re not wrong.” I lower myself onto the edge of the desk, close enough that our legs touch.
He grins, tracing his thumb along the line of my jaw. “How was work?”
“Good,” I say, the smile tugging at my lips. “Actually, I came to tell you something.”
“Oh yeah?” His head tilts slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
“The first time I showed up after practice,” I start, gliding my fingertip across the surface beside me, “when I found out you were coaching here. You remember that day?”
He laughs quietly, that deep, low sound that rumbles in his chest. “You showed up here ticked off, looking for a fight.”
“I did not.”
“Pretty sure you called me an arrogant jerk.”
“Technically true.” I smirk. “But to be fair, you were being one.”
He leans forward slightly, his knees brushing mine. His hand slides along my hip before trailing lower, his fingers settling possessively against the curve of my thigh.
“And now?”
“Now,” I whisper, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “I want you to think about this every time you sit here.”
I toe off my heels and lower myself to the floor, thankful for the carpet beneath my knees. Sliding my hand up his thigh, I cup his hard length over the front of his pants.
God, I love sweatpants, especially on him. Girls, I know you can appreciate all the reasons. But we also have to take a moment to appreciate how damn good our men look in dress slacks. It’s a public service, really.
“Sug—” he growls. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I flick my gaze over to the window overlooking the practice arena.
“Do you think anyone knows I’m in here?”
He slides his hand along my jaw, pulling me toward him. He leans forward and presses a kiss against my lips. “What’s gotten into you? What happened to my sweet Tessa?”
“You have,” I smirk. “Your sweet Tessa was long gone after the night you fucked me with a candy cane.” I tug his pants down enough to release his cock.
His nostrils flare, his eyes burning into me. I flick my tongue out, swiping it over the tip, and he moans.
“Goddamn, do you really think I’m going to be able to focus after this?”
I smirk. “Now shh, baby. I have my own candy cane to suck on.”
I lean forward and take him in my mouth, deep enough that he hits the back of my throat. I swallow, and he slides his fingers into my hair roughly, releasing a stream of curse words.
“Is this what you wanted?” he mutters. “You want to make me lose control. What if someone walked in here right now? Would you hide under my desk like a good girl and suck my dick like you’re not even here?”
I hum, and he thrusts his hips up, forcing me to take him deeper.
“You would, wouldn’t you? You naughty little girl.”
I pull off him, a string of saliva hanging from my mouth, and grin. “I’ve learned from the best.”
This time, when I take him deeper, I let him hear me gagging on him. Tears leak from my eyes as he grips the arms of his chair, struggling to compose himself.
I dig my nails into his thighs, using my other hand to work his length, twisting as I bob up and down.
When he finishes, I lean back on my haunches and stare up at him with a satisfied smile, licking up every last drop.
He grins, voice low. “You realize I’m never going to look at this desk the same again.”
“Good,” I say, leaning in close and brushing a kiss against his lips. “That was kind of the point.”
He chuckles, resting his forehead against mine. “Next time, I’m locking the door first.”
“Next time?” I tease.
His grin widens. “Oh, there’s definitely going to be a next time.”