Chapter Twenty-Five
Moskins
I watch Winter sleep peacefully on her couch, using my lap as her pillow.
I shouldn’t have come in, especially when I saw the photographers camping out across the street.
They know they can’t be kicked out for trespassing if they’re on public property, so they use their cameras to get what they need from there.
Since the story already broke, I walked into the apartment building with my middle finger up in their direction. They can plaster that on the tabloids next, for all I care. They’d been lucky I didn’t flash them my ass and tell them to kiss it while I was at it.
I brush my fingers through Winter’s hair as her chest rises and falls slowly. She hadn’t told me to go home. Hadn’t said goodbye. Hadn’t told me to fuck off like I deserved. So, here I am. Watching her sleep and being here with her for as long as I can.
It’s nothing like the last time we were on this couch together. The emotions aren’t as high or deadly. Not in the same way. She’s not whipping insults or demanding anything. She’s not using me or expecting anything.
She just…is.
Soaking up the moment.
Getting a moment’s peace, if only in her dreams. When she wakes up, we’ll have to face this mess together. Because whether she likes it or not, I’m going to be there for her.
My phone buzzes with an unsaved number, so I ignore it. Then it buzzes again with another unsaved number. I almost turn it off when it goes off for a third time, and I see Ashton’s name.
Winter stirs, and I try to hush her back to sleep when she murmurs, “You can answer it if you need to.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
The phone keeps ringing.
Ashton. Again.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and answer it, putting the cell to my ear. “I thought you said this could wait until tomorrow.”
“It is tomorrow,” he states, making me look at my watch.
12:06 a.m.
I roll my eyes. “What do you want?”
“You clearly haven’t been online yet,” he mutters, sighing. When he speaks next, there’s a hardness in his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth? All of these years you’ve been lying to me.”
What the hell is he going off about? “Ash, I already saw the headlines earlier. You of all people should know I’m not going to go online to see what people are—”
“Not about you and Winter.” He curses, sounding impatient. “Look at your goddamn phone, asshole.”
I shake my head and put my phone on speaker, shooting Winter an apologetic look. Then I open up my browser and see the first article in the trending news section.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Care to fucking explain?”
Winter is sitting up, eyes alert. “What?” she asks, frowning. Her hand goes to my leg, as if to comfort me. “What is it?”
I can’t look at her though.
All I can focus on is the headline.
Emaly Moskins-Yokav, wife of Fairbanks Fireflies right-winger Thomas Moskins, comes out amidst her husband’s latest cheating scandal.
The 34-year-old makes a big announcement only hours after news broke of her husband’s newest affair.
Moskins-Yokav, who has never commented on the press surrounding her husband of thirteen years, has chosen to speak out to clear his name.
“I think it’s time to be honest with the world about what’s really going on, because my husband doesn’t deserve the backlash he’s continually gotten over the past decade.
The world knows Thomas Moskins not only as a skilled hockey player who’s helped his team win three Stanley Cups, but as an unfaithful husband.
And I’m here to tell you that isn’t the truth.
My husband has always been the most loyal person I know, who would sacrifice his happiness for the sake of everybody else.
And I’ve selfishly allowed him to do that for too long. So, it’s time you knew the truth.
“My name is Emaly, and I’m in love with the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.
I met her after I married Thomas and have been with her for the majority of my marriage.
If anybody is the cheater, it’s me. I love Thomas and the relationship we have, but it’s time for him to be happy as well.
So I’m asking you all to respect our privacy instead of using the photographs online to create a false narrative.
Thomas isn’t cheating on me. He’s free to do what he wants with whom he wants, same as me. Thank you.”
I gape at the article until I hear, “…you even listening to me right now?”
Shit. Ashton. “I’m here.” My throat is dry. “I didn’t know that she was going to do this.”
It’s time to end this, she’d said to me. I didn’t know what she meant—I hadn’t asked her because all I could think about was Winter.
“Looks like I wasn’t the only one with secrets,” my agent bemuses. “This makes a hell of a lot more sense now.”
But I don’t feel like having this conversation with him. “I’ll call you—”
“Tomorrow,” he finishes for me. “Go figure. Fine. But we’re having a meeting because I’m getting a lot of calls from a lot of people who want to hear your side of things.”
That’s too fucking bad, because they’re not getting it.
When I hang up, I look at Winter. She looks wary, nervous. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her, believing it for the first time. I bring my hand to cup her face and run the pad of my thumb along her bottom lip, tracing the shape.
I take a deep breath and watch her, my eyes roaming over her face. Her eyes are glassy still, whether from exhaustion or the tears she shed earlier, I’m not sure. They’re red-rimmed and sullen but beautiful all the same.
She wets her lips. “What?”
“You’re beautiful,” is all I say, letting my thumb move to her jaw and caress the skin.
She blushes. “We should probably talk about what comes next. Because there’s—”
“In the morning,” I urge, my eyes locking on her mouth. I’ve been wanting to kiss her all night, but I knew it wasn’t the right time. But things are different now. “I can tell you everything in the morning. Right now, I want…”
My tongue drags across my bottom lip, and she tracks the movement carefully. “What?” she asks, looking as though she also wants one night where we don’t have to face the people outside of these walls.
I slide off the couch and kneel in front of her, my lips curling into a sly grin. “Do you remember when I got on my knees for you, Winter? At the animal shelter?”
I see her eyes widen a fraction and her throat bob with a swallow. Is she thinking about that day? About the things we’d done? God, I fucking hoped so.
“Do you remember what I told you?” I ask, running my hands up her thighs.
She’s in a pair of sleep shorts that she changed into when we got here.
Gone are her dress, heels, and makeup, and in their place a freshly washed face, a tiny pair of shorts, and a shirt that looks like it used to have a logo on the front that’s long since faded.
Goose bumps pebble her skin as my hands make their way up her thighs. She parts them, whether voluntarily or not, and her eyelids flutter closed for a moment as her head tips back.
I stop at the apex, kneading the muscles there. “Do you remember, sweetheart?” I prod, my grin stretching as she exhales a shaky breath.
She nods. “Yes,” she breathes, finally opening her eyes to look at me. “You told me the next time you were on your knees, you’d…”
I flash her my teeth when she’s at a loss for words. “I said the next time I get on my knees, it’d be to taste you. And I’m a man of my word.”
My fingertips dip into her shorts, tracing the skin beneath it.
“No underwear?” I ask in curiosity, feeling my cock harden at how close I am to her.
Slowly, she shakes her head.
“And your period…?” My eyes flick up to her, finding her cheeks redden. “Not that it would matter to me.”
She gapes, not believing me.
But one day, I’d show her I mean it.
“I’m done with it,” she whispers.
All I say is “good” before my hands peel off her shorts and toss them somewhere behind me. “If you don’t want this, now is a good time to stop me,” I warn, looking at her through my lashes.
I wait for the word.
The “stop.”
The “no.”
But she doesn’t speak at all.
Thank whatever God exists in the world.
I grab ahold of her hips and pull them toward me, getting a surprised yelp from Winter. I graze my knuckles up and down her inner thigh, pleased when I see her shiver.
“So pretty,” I compliment, nose grazing her core. I can feel the heat coming from her and smell the desire. She’s turned on. The anticipation building in her as much as it is me.
When I close the gap, her hand instantly comes to my head. Her fingers weave in my hair and pull as my tongue drags across the seam of her lips. A noise escapes her, and her thighs try to close, but can’t, thanks to my body.
I move her legs to rest on my shoulders, before my hands go to her ass and knead and massage the plump skin. She tastes incredible. She tastes exactly as I imagined. Sweet and sultry and mine.
Her fingers remain in my hair as I lap and suck and lick until her legs begin to shake.
Her spine arches, pushing her pretty pussy into my face and giving me better access.
She needs the release, and I want nothing more than to give it to her—to let her body finally let go of all the bad feelings from today.
The pressure.
The negativity.
I use my mouth and fingers to bring her closer and closer to that edge that she needs to jump from. Her thighs cage my head in, and I love it.
I love every moan. Every shaky breath. And when she says my name like that, like she’s claiming me. I nearly come in my goddamn jeans.
“Thomas,” she moans, both hands in my hair and holding me against her.
“Let it go,” I tell her, tongue moving upward to the nerves that are firing on all cylinders. I suck her clit into my mouth, and that’s all it takes.
Winter detonates, arching off the couch with a silent orgasm taking over her. I wait it out, pressing kisses along her inner thighs as they quiver from the comedown until she’s sated and still on the couch.
“Oh my God,” she whispers.
I chuckle against her before pulling away to look at her. Her body is sunken into the cushions, her eyes closed as she catches her breath.
Then she yelps again when I pull her up, tossing her over my shoulder and walking us toward her bedroom.
“What are you doing?” she asks, holding onto my shirt.
I kick open the door and deposit her onto the bed, her half-naked body draped along the mattress. I watch her, licking my lips and still tasting her on them. “We should sleep,” I say, still watching as she squirms.
She bites into her bottom lip. “Or…” Her words fade as she looks up at me.
“Or…?” I repeat slowly.
Winter stares up at me, her bottom lip still tucked in by her front teeth. Then she sits up, grabs the hem of her shirt, and peels it off her body until she’s completely naked.
She’s fucking gorgeous spread out before me.
“In the morning,” she begins, “we’ll figure everything out. But I need this. I need…you.”
Her voice is so quiet, I almost don’t hear her at all. But the statement hits me as if she screamed it aloud. It soaks into my body the way her secrets did, wrapping around my heart and squeezing it.
Winter has never admitted to needing anybody, but she needs me.
Slowly, I crawl over her onto the bed. I’m still fully clothed, hardly on an even playing field. But all in due time.
“Say it again,” I tell her.
Her lips brush against mine as she says, “I need you.”
Three words.
But not the ones that most people’s hearts will hold on to like their lives depend on it. No. These ones mean more to me.
She knows it too.
Because she says it again as she unbuttons my shirt. And again, when she takes off my pants and discards them onto the floor with our other clothes. And once more, when her fingers slowly peel the boxer briefs down my thighs.
I need you becomes my favorite phrase, and I want to hear it for the rest of my life. Because being wanted is one thing—a lot of people want me. But being needed by someone like Winter is a whole different game.
She can take care of herself. She has.
But at this moment, she’s choosing me to take care of her.
And my heart reacts to that.
It thumps hard in my chest, beating in sync with hers when I press my body against her and guide my cock to her entrance.
All my thoughts wash away when I enter her, like nothing around us matters. Like the world stops for us.
Every single day, it’s non fucking stop.
The noise. The demons. The past.
I don’t catch a break.
I busy myself to drown it all out.
I refuse to acknowledge it so it can’t touch me.
But not with her. With her, I allow it to surround me rather than hide from it.
I don’t pretend the past doesn’t exist. I don’t let it suffocate me.
Around Winter, I can breathe. I can be the foster kid with shitty parents and the hockey player with a top scoring average.
I can share my secrets like their currency and not worry about them being used against me.
I’ve always allowed Emaly and my career to bury the things I don’t want to deal with. I let one version of myself out at a time.
Winter gets it all.
Every one.
I whisper four words back to her on the brink of my orgasm. “I need you too.”
And apparently, it’s her undoing too.
Because she breaks apart for a second time around me.