Chapter 24
The week had been busy in preparation. The team had trained hard and Camille had been in the thick of her own personal rehab. They had flown to Boston that morning.
The team hotel in Boston was quiet at ten o'clock at night, most of the players already retreating to their rooms to rest before tomorrow's game. Generic landscape paintings hung at regular intervals along the walls, their blandness somehow comforting in its anonymity.
Camille's heart was pounding so hard her ribs ached with each beat.
She'd just come from the medical assessment—the final, crucial evaluation that would determine whether her knee could handle the rigors of competitive play.
The arena's training room had been cold and clinical, the team doctor prodding and testing and measuring then watching her skate while Camille held her breath and prayed.
Three weeks of rehab. Three weeks of watching from the sideline while her team prepared for the biggest game of the season.
Three weeks of wondering if her body would betray her at the crucial moment.
And then the words: "You're cleared. Full contact. You can play tomorrow."
Camille had almost cried. Had bitten down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from falling, had thanked the doctor in a voice that only trembled slightly, had walked out of the training room on legs that suddenly felt new again.
Now she was standing outside Lou's hotel room, her hair still damp with sweat from the on-ice assessment, her body thrumming with adrenaline and relief and the desperate need to share this moment with the woman she loved.
She knocked, her knuckles rapping against the wood with quiet urgency.
The door opened almost immediately, as if Lou had been waiting. Lou stood there in soft pajama pants and a worn t-shirt, her dark hair damp, her green eyes widening at the sight of Camille's face.
"What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm cleared." Camille's voice cracked on the words. "Lou, I'm cleared. I can play tomorrow."
Lou's face transformed—the worry melting into joy, her whole body seeming to light up from within. "You're—Camille, that's amazing."
She pulled Camille into the room and into her arms in one fluid motion.
The door swung shut behind them with a soft click, and then there was nothing but warmth—Lou's body pressed against hers, Lou's arms wrapped tight around her shoulders, Lou's voice murmuring congratulations against her hair.
The scent of Lou's shampoo surrounded her, familiar and grounding.
"I was so scared," Camille whispered into Lou's neck. "The whole time they were testing me, I kept thinking—what if it's not ready? What if I have to watch from the sideline while you all fight the Wildcats without me?"
"But you don't have to." Lou pulled back enough to cup Camille's face in her hands, her thumbs brushing the tear tracks on Camille's cheeks. "You're going to be out there with us. We're going to do this together."
Camille leaned into the touch, letting Lou's steady presence ground her. The hotel room was warm and comfortable—a king bed with white sheets, a desk scattered with Lou's notes and strategy diagrams, the faint hum of the air conditioning filling the silence between words.
"I need a bath," Camille said, her voice dropping to something lower, more intimate. "I'm still sweaty from the assessment. And that tub in the bathroom looks big enough for two."
Lou's eyes darkened, her hands sliding from Camille's face to her shoulders. "Is that an invitation?"
"It's more of a request." Camille stepped back, holding Lou's gaze as her fingers found the hem of her own shirt. "Run me a bath. I want you to watch me undress."
The words landed with weight—a promise, a command, an offer all wrapped into one. Lou's breath caught audibly, her throat working as she swallowed.
"Yes ma'am."
She disappeared into the bathroom, and Camille heard the rush of water filling the tub, the clink of Lou checking the temperature, the soft sounds of preparation. The anticipation built in Camille's chest, mixing with the adrenaline of her clearance to create something heady and urgent.
When Lou returned to the doorway, her eyes slightly glazed and her cheeks flushed, Camille began.
She pulled her shirt over her head slowly, deliberately, letting the fabric drag across her skin before dropping it to the floor. Lou's gaze tracked the movement like a physical touch, tracing the lines of Camille's body with an intensity that made her nipples harden beneath her sports bra.
"You're so beautiful," Lou breathed.
Camille smiled and reached behind her back for the clasp of her bra. "Keep watching."
The bra joined the shirt on the floor. Camille's hands moved to the waistband of her leggings, her fingers hooking under the elastic, her hips swaying slightly as she began to push them down. The fabric slid over her thighs, her calves, pooling at her ankles before she stepped free.
She stood in just her underwear now—simple cotton, nothing fancy, but Lou was looking at her like she was the most exquisite thing in the world.
"The rest," Lou said, her voice rough. "Please."
Camille hooked her thumbs under the waistband and pulled her underwear down with agonizing slowness. The cool air of the hotel room kissed her heated skin, and she shivered—not from cold but from the weight of Lou's attention.
"Your turn," Camille murmured. "The bath is ready. And I want you next to me."
But Lou shook her head, her eyes still dark with desire. "Not yet. First, let me take care of you."
She led Camille to the bathroom, where steam rose from the oversized tub and the scent of hotel bath gel filled the air.
The water was the perfect temperature—hot enough to soothe, not hot enough to burn.
Camille lowered herself into the tub with a groan of pleasure, her muscles relaxing as the heat surrounded her.
Lou knelt beside the tub, her knees on the bath mat, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She dipped a washcloth into the water and began to wash Camille's shoulders with slow, deliberate strokes.
"You've worked so hard these past weeks," Lou murmured, her voice soft as the cloth moved down Camille's arm. "All that rehab. All that patience. I watched you push through the pain, never complaining, never giving up."
The cloth traced circles across Camille's back, then moved to her other arm. The sensation was intimate in a way that transcended sexuality—this careful tending, this gentle worship of her body.
"I wanted to come back for you," Camille said. "For the team. But mostly for you. I couldn't stand the thought of watching from the sideline while you fought the biggest battle of the season."
Lou's hand stilled on Camille's shoulder. "I couldn't have done it without you. Even when you were injured, even when you could only watch from the bench—having you there gave me strength."
The washcloth resumed its journey, sliding down Camille's chest, circling her breasts with a touch that was still gentle but edged with something more. Camille's breath quickened, her nipples hardening beneath the wet fabric.
"Lou..."
"Let me." Lou's voice was a whisper now, her free hand sliding beneath the water to cup Camille's breast. "Let me show you how much I missed you. How much I need you."
The washcloth fell away, replaced by Lou's bare hand—warm from the water, sure in its movements. Her thumb brushed Camille's nipple, and the touch sent sparks cascading through Camille's body.
"More," Camille breathed. "Please."
Lou's hand slid lower, tracing the curve of Camille's stomach, the jut of her hip bones, the soft skin of her inner thigh. The water rippled with each movement, warm waves lapping against Camille's sensitized skin.
And then Lou's fingers found the heat between Camille's legs, and rational thought dissolved entirely.
"Oh god." Camille's head fell back against the rim of the tub, her eyes fluttering closed.
Lou's fingers were gentle at first—exploring, teasing, learning the contours of Camille's desire.
But as Camille's hips began to roll against the touch, as her breathing grew ragged and desperate, Lou's movements became more purposeful.
Two fingers slid inside, and Camille gasped. The angle was awkward with Lou kneeling beside the tub, but the intimacy of it—the steam rising around them, the warm water surrounding her, Lou's face so close to hers—made up for any physical limitations.
"Look at me," Lou commanded, her voice low and rough. "I want to see your face when you come."
Camille forced her eyes open, meeting Lou's gaze. Those green eyes were blazing with love and lust and reverence—an expression that made Camille's heart clench even as her body climbed toward release.
Lou's thumb found her clit and began to circle with devastating precision. Her fingers curled inside, finding that spot that made stars explode behind Camille's eyes. The pleasure built like a wave—cresting, gathering, about to break.
"I've got you," Lou whispered. "Let go. I've got you."
The orgasm crashed through Camille with the force of a hurricane.
She cried out Lou's name, her body arching in the water, her inner walls clenching around Lou's fingers as pulse after pulse of release shook through her.
Lou worked her through it, gentling her touch as the waves subsided, keeping her anchored as she floated back down.
"That was..." Camille couldn't find the words. Her body was liquid, her mind blissfully blank. "That was incredible."
"That was just the beginning." Lou smiled.
Camille reached out of the tub, water streaming from her arm, and grabbed the front of Lou's t-shirt. "Get in here."
"The water—"
"I don't care about the water." Camille tugged harder, and Lou laughed—a surprised, delighted sound—before standing and stripping off her clothes with efficient movements.
Lou's body was familiar now, beloved—the lean muscle of her arms, the curve of her hips, the small scars that mapped her hockey history. Camille watched her step into the tub, watched the water rise and slosh over the edge as their bodies displaced it, and didn't care about the mess at all.
"Come here. I need to hold you."
Camille slid up through the water and into Lou's arms. They lay tangled together in the warm bath, their hearts pounding in sync, their bodies pressed as close as physics would allow.
"I love you," Camille murmured against Lou's shoulder.
"I love you too." Lou's arms tightened around her. "And tomorrow, we're going to win. Together."
They stayed in the bath until the water grew cold, then dried each other off with the soft hotel towels and stumbled to the king bed.
The sheets were crisp and cool against their flushed skin, and they curled together in the center of the mattress—legs tangled, arms wrapped tight, breath mingling in the darkness.
"Do you really believe we can beat them?" Camille asked, her voice drowsy. "The Wildcats have the best record in the league."
"I believe in this team." Lou pressed a kiss to Camille's forehead. "I believe in Rowan and Frankie and Elise. I believe in Mara's strategy. And I believe in us—you and me, together on the ice, playing like we were meant to play."
Camille closed her eyes, Lou's certainty seeping into her bones like warmth from a fire.
Tomorrow would bring the biggest challenge of their season.
Tomorrow would determine whether the Phoenix Ridge Valkyries reached the PWHL or watched their dreams die on the ice.
But tonight, wrapped in Lou's arms, surrounded by warmth and love and the particular peace of belonging—tonight, everything was possible.
"We're going to win," Camille said, and for the first time, the words tasted like truth rather than hope.
Lou's breathing deepened, her body relaxing into sleep. The hotel room held them like a cocoon—quiet and warm, separate from the pressures of tomorrow. Camille followed moments later, her dreams filled with ice and victory and the woman beside her.
Tomorrow, they would fight.
Tonight, they would rest.
And in the morning, they would rise together to meet their destiny.