Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
JUST US
TULLY
I’m sprawled on my bed, laptop balanced on my thighs, scrolling through hotel listings on some overpriced vacation site.
The one I’ve got pulled up is in Duluth.
It has a beautiful view of the water and a massive bed.
Best part about it: no roommates. Lola’s birthday is next month, but I want to surprise her with this earlier.
She’s been grinding through midterms and got an internship with a tattoo artist she hit it off with in Minneapolis, so she’s keeping crazy hours and working really hard.
We’ve been missing each other so bad and have planned to spend this weekend together.
I want to make it extra special and spoil her.
A place where it’s just us and the quiet.
My phone buzzes on the pillow. Daniel. I hit the speaker button.
“Tully,” he says before I can even say hello. “You sitting down?”
“I’m lying down. Close enough.”
He laughs. “Good. Because the interest in you is huge. They want you bad. All the teams we’ve wanted.
The scouts aren’t just watching anymore—they’re calling.
Boston wants to meet to talk about you. Detroit too.
And listen to this—Minnesota. This is it, Tully.
This is the wave we’ve been waiting for. ”
My heart does a stupid, happy flip. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a little kid. But hearing it out loud from Daniel, who doesn’t bullshit, makes it real. I grin so wide my cheeks hurt.
Minnesota! They’re the team I’ve wanted to play for all along. My home team—I can’t believe it.
“That’s…that’s insane,” I say. “What’s next?”
“Well, they’re throwing out a few options, but I’m thinking we strike while the iron is hot and do a little introduction with Minnesota this weekend.
They want to chat face-to-face. Informal, but not really.
You know how it is. Show up at the restaurant I’m meeting them in, shake hands.
Let them see the guy who gave us over forty wins last season and is about to do so this season as well. ”
This weekend.
My grin falters. I glance back at the laptop screen. I just booked the room—the nonrefundable deposit is already charged to my card. I can picture Lola’s face when I tell her, the way her eyes go soft and surprised, the way she’ll probably punch my arm and call me crazy before kissing me stupid.
“I’m so excited about this, but…I can’t do this weekend,” I say.
Silence. Then Daniel’s voice, flatter. “Come again?”
“I’ve got plans. With Lola. It’s…it’s important.”
“You’re telling me you’re turning down an introductory meeting with an NHL franchise because you’ve got a date?”
“It’s not just a date. It’s a weekend away. She’s been killing herself with school and work, and we promised we’d spend this weekend together.”
Daniel exhales through his nose, the sound crackling over the line.
“Tully. Listen to me. I get it. You’re twenty-one, you’re in love, the world is at your fingertips.
But this is your career we’re talking about.
You decided you wanted to finish college instead of going pro right away.
The window doesn’t stay open forever. You gotta be ready in the spring, when the offers start pouring in.
You want to be the guy who peaked in college because he couldn’t miss a romantic getaway? ”
I sit up straighter, laptop sliding. “I’m not peaking in college. I’m just…prioritizing. You said they were throwing out a few options, right? When was the next one?”
“I’ll have to take a look. I didn’t expect you to bail on me.” He snorts. “You gonna be able to do this, Tully? Have a career when your head’s full of her?” He’s saying it in a teasing tone, but I know he wants to be sure that I can focus when I need to.
“I proved myself with over forty wins last season and am about to do it again, remember?” I tease back. “I’ve got this.”
Lola has been so supportive of my passion for hockey.
I don’t think she ever saw herself as someone who’d be frequenting hockey games, but she shows up, wearing my jersey and cheering me on.
She’s never given me a hard time for how much I have to practice.
Last week, she fell asleep on my chest watching game tape, when she could’ve been doing anything else.
“She makes me better, and when I’m on the ice, it’s just me and the puck. No noise. I’m all in.”
He’s quiet for a beat and then chuckles. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that? Who knew the best center the hockey world has seen in years would be such a romantic?”
“Yeah. I’m your pain in the ass who’s about to sign something big. This is gonna pay off, right? For both of us. Just…give me this weekend. I’ll go wherever you want me to go after that.”
Another exhale. “Fine. But you’re buying me dinner when you ink the deal. And a couple bottles of good wine.”
“Deal.”
I unlock the door to the hotel room, and Lola tugs me close when we step inside.
“That was the best dinner.” Lola sighs. “I loved that restaurant.”
“Me too.”
The restaurant was candlelit, with windows fogged from the warmth inside. We sat in a corner booth, knees touching under the table, talking and laughing about nothing and everything.
“Thanks for this getaway,” she says softly. “This place is beautiful. And I didn’t even know how badly I needed to get away from campus.” Her hands lock behind my neck. “But the best part is having forty-eight whole hours with you.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking—I couldn’t wait to just be together.”
“Hi,” she murmurs.
“Hi.” I press my mouth to the side of her neck, right where her pulse beats steadily. She sighs, tilts her head to give me more room.
We don’t rush. Tonight feels different—like every touch is deliberate, like we’re memorizing each other all over again. I kiss her slow and deep, tasting the last sip of wine on her tongue. Her hands slide under my sweater, cool fingers against my skin, and I shiver, even though I’m burning up.
Clothes come off piece by piece, scattered across the rug like we couldn’t be bothered to fold them.
She laughs softly when my belt buckle clinks against the floor, and then she pushes me backward toward the bed, eyes dark and bright at the same time.
The quilt is thick and soft under us. I roll her beneath me, kiss her collarbone, her ribs, the dip of her waist, until she’s arching and whispering my name like a plea.
When I slide inside her, it’s so good it almost hurts—hot, tight, perfect.
She wraps her legs around me, nails digging into my shoulders, and we find that rhythm we’ve always had, the one that feels like coming home.
Her breath catches every time I hit just right; mine stutters when she clenches around me.
She starts to come, and I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in, moving slow, then faster, deeper, until we’re both trembling.
My orgasm starts barreling through me. And that’s when it hits me. No condom.
“Lola—” My voice is wrecked as I pull out. “Fuck. I didn’t—”
Her eyes snap open. “Shit,” she breathes.
I finish across her stomach instead, hot pulses that leave me shaking, forehead pressed to hers while I try to catch my breath. She’s breathing hard too, one hand in my hair, the other resting on my chest like she’s steadying us both.
For a second, we just lie there, sticky and stunned.
Then she starts laughing—quiet, breathless, the sound bubbling up like both relief and panic.
“What were we thinking?” she says.
I kiss her temple, then her mouth, soft. “I’m sorry. I got…lost in you.”
“Me too.” She traces my jaw with her fingertips. “But you pulled out. We’re fine…right?”
“Probably,” I echo, but my stomach twists anyway.
We’re twenty-one. We’re not ready for accidents. Not even close.
We clean up with a warm washcloth from the bathroom.
“You look shaken,” she says, her eyes wide in the mirror.
“That was a close call. I can’t believe I got so carried away that I forgot the most basic thing.”
We crawl back under the covers, her head on my chest, my arm around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I won’t be forgetting again. That was a good wake-up call.” I laugh in her hair.
She presses a kiss to my collarbone, smiling against my skin. “Tonight was still perfect.”
I tighten my arm around her. “Yeah. It was.”
“And I should get on the pill.”
“Yeah? You sure?”
“Positive.”
“It did feel really incredible.”
We start laughing again, our fingers threaded together. She falls asleep first, her breath evening out against my skin. I lie awake a little longer, listening to the wind rattle the windows, and feeling the steady rise and fall of her ribs under my hand.
Sometime in the night or early morning, I wake up to Lola’s hair spilling over my stomach and her lips wrapped around my dick. Her tongue slides up the underside, her lips tight, taking me deeper on the next pass. A low groan rips out of my throat.
“Oh, Lola, you’re the best kind of trouble,” I tell her.
She hums around me in answer, the vibration shooting straight up my spine. My hips jerk without permission, pushing deeper into her perfect mouth. She takes it, one hand curling around the base where her mouth can’t reach, stroking in time with the slow bob of her head.
Fuck.
I thread my fingers into her hair, holding on like she’s the only thing keeping me tethered. She looks up at me through her lashes—eyes dark, sleepy, mischievous—and that nearly does me in.
She picks up the pace, just enough. She sucks harder and swirls her tongue around the head, then sinks down again until I hit the back of her throat.
My abs clench, breath punching out in short, ragged bursts.
I can see the curve of her back, the dip of her waist, the way her hips shift like she’s feeling this as much as I am.
“Lola—mmm, shit—” My voice cracks. “You’re gonna make me—”
She doesn’t stop. Just moans again, low and needy, and that sound—God, that sound—tips me over.
Heat coils tight in my gut, then snaps. I come hard, hips bucking, spilling down her throat while white sparks explode behind my eyes.
Actual fucking stars. My whole body locks up, every muscle strung tight, then melts all at once as she works me through it, gentle now, swallowing everything until I’m shuddering.
When she releases me, she presses one last kiss to the tip that makes me twitch. Then she crawls back up my body, slow and smug, lips swollen and shiny, cheeks flushed. She settles on my chest, chin propped on her folded arms, and grins.
“Morning,” she says, voice hoarse.
I can barely breathe. My heart’s still hammering like I just finished drills on the ice. I cup her face with both hands, thumbs brushing her cheekbones, and pull her down to kiss her—deep, messy, tasting myself on her tongue and not caring one bit.
“You’re evil,” I mutter against her mouth when I finally let her up for air.
“You love it.”
“Yeah.” I flip us so she’s under me, laughing as the comforter tangles around our legs. “I really fucking do. I really fucking love you.”
“I love you, Tully. I really fucking love you too.”
Her hands slide up my back, nails dragging lightly, and I’m already stirring again. I kiss her neck, her collarbone, and keep going, determined to make her see stars too.