Chapter 29
Oakley Kate
For once, the house doesn’t creak with footsteps or laughter. Just early-morning stillness and the faint hum of the coffee pot. Silas is at practice and Aubrey is with Hannah for another slumber party.
I test my foot against the floor—tentative, careful. It’s not perfect. There’s still that strange tug where the incision healed, the dull ache where the pin lives.
But I can stand.
And that’s enough.
The first steps are slow, uneven. But when I make it to the kitchen on my own, I can’t help whispering, “Who’s a badass? This chick.”
I’ll never understand how Aubrey’s little school-and-craft room that’s literally a ten-by-six hole in the wall can get so messy so fast. I just cleaned it two days ago, and already there are four bottles of water, two empty cups, and a random spoon.
Once I drop those in the kitchen, I head for the master bath. If you’ve ever smelled day-old base layers worn by a hockey player, I truly feel for you. Your nose may never be the same.
My earbuds thump to a low bass song as I move through the house, completely missing the sound of the shower running.
I don’t know when Silas snuck in from practice, but hot damn.
He was never one of the bulkiest guys on the ice, but the muscles he did pack on were always drool-worthy.
Still are. As the water cascades over every ridge and crevice, I let my eyes roam what I’ve been missing.
The birthmark below his left shoulder blade.
The dimples above his ass that somehow still exist with twelve percent body fat.
The forearm flexing in rhythm with his hips.
Oh shit.
OH SHIT.
The tiny gasp that escapes me is enough. He turns, his head angling over his shoulder. For a heartbeat, I swear the tension rolling off him isn’t just surprise. It’s something predatory.
It hits me then: whatever happened at practice didn’t stay on the ice.
“Is it laundry day already, Kates?” His voice is rougher than usual, the rumble almost covered by the shower.
It’s enough of a jolt to kick my ass into gear. I hightail it out of there, day-old dirty clothes all but forgotten. As quickly as I can with one crutch, I disappear into the guest room down the hall, locking the door and pressing my forehead against it.
“It’s okay,” I tell myself. “Don’t freak out. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”
Yeah, except he’s definitely grown up. And now there’s a thigh tattoo? Connecting to that calf sleeve he got in college.
A soft knock makes me jump. I hear his sigh, can picture him rubbing the back of his neck, that face pinched in exhaustion.
“Kates, you okay?” he asks.
I stay silent, too mortified to answer.
“Can you open the door so we can talk? Promise I’m decent.”
The chuckle that follows sounds tired rather than teasing. The kind that feels like someone trying to hold themselves together.
Maybe that’s why my mouth runs away with my thoughts without consulting my brain.
“Maybe I don’t want you decent,” I whisper.
I should crank my music. Tell him to leave me alone. Literally anything but open the door. Instead, I turn the knob.
He’s standing there in gym shorts, nothing else. Water droplets trace the curve of his throat and down the cut of his chest, but it’s the look in his eyes that steals my breath. Want, yes, but it’s more than that.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Oakley Kate. Pure trouble,” he murmurs, voice low and frayed.
“The good kind or the bad?” Damn, my mouth is going to get me in trouble.
“Always only the good, Kates.”
“Show me.”
Before I can think through what those two words might cause, Silas lifts me off my feet. My back hits the mattress, and I scramble toward the headboard, but he’s already there, stalking me like prey. He grabs my calf and drags me closer.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
“You.”
“Gonna need more than that.” His fingers skim my knee, up…up…to my inner thigh. He stops just shy of where I want him most then slides back down, his knuckles grazing my core.
I groan, arching into the touch, but he catches my chin, forcing eye contact.
“Damn it, Silas. I want you. What’s so hard to grasp?”
He shakes his head, something raw flashing in his eyes. “You know that’s not what I’m asking. This won’t be a one-time trip down memory lane for me. Are we doing this? Us?”
Every emotion he’s ever felt for me burns in his gaze. Desire. Love. But it’s the hope that undoes me. He wants this.
Do I? Yes. Can we make it work? Who the hell knows.
I hesitate a beat too long. His expression shutters, and he starts to pull back. I grab his hand before he can move away.
“I love you, Thirty-Two. I never stopped.” My voice shakes, and tears sting my eyes, but I don’t care. I trail my fingers up his arm, over his collarbone, brushing the stubble on his jaw before pressing soft kisses along the path I traced. “I love you, Silas. I want you.”
He holds my gaze, breathing hard. “No take backs, Kates.”
“No take backs.”
His mouth crashes into mine. The frantic edge fades, but the passion never does. His hand frames my face, thumb grazing my jaw.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs against my skin, teeth nipping below my ear. Each nip and lick scrambles my thoughts until I’m nothing but need.
He makes quick work of my tank and sleep shorts, careful with my booted foot. Before I can scold him, he pulls me to the edge of the bed, resting his chin on my stomach.
“Tell me, Kates. Tell me you’re mine.” His mouth moves over my hips, open-mouthed kisses that make my pulse trip. When I only nod, he bites lightly, making me gasp. “Use your words.”
“I’m yours,” I pant. “And you’re mine. We’ll figure the rest out together.”
“Swear it.”
“I swear.”
That’s all he needs. His restraint breaks. He dips his head between my thighs, tongue circling slow, teasing. Then he licks the length of me, sucking my clit into his mouth as he slides a finger inside.
And holy highway to hell.
My body bows tight as pleasure tears through me, heat sparking down every nerve.
It’s been years since anyone touched me like this. Years of pretending that toys and memories were enough.
“I need you. Now.”
He grins as he crawls up my body. “As much as I hate ruining that desperate little face, I don’t have any condoms, baby.”
My skin flames as I admit to one of my most recent impulsive decisions. “There’s a box in the nightstand.”
His brow arches, smirk devilish. “Planning for something like this?”
“More like I couldn’t stop myself from hoping.”
He snorts, pulling the box free and setting it beside me. “You planning on me dying here? That’s a lot of condoms.”
I swat his chest. “It’s all they had. You know I’m picky.”
He kisses me hard, teeth clashing, voice low and serious when he breaks away. “If we’re really doing this, maybe I’ll get snipped in the off-season. Then we can ditch them forever.”
Emotion surges, but I shove it down. “Just put a dick in me already, hotshot.”
That damn eyebrow lifts again as he lines up, running the tip along my slit.
“Please,” I breathe.
“That’s my girl.”
He thrusts deep in one stroke. We both groan as he fills me, and I never want him to stop. He peppers kisses across my face, tender where everything else is rough.
“My perfect girl,” he murmurs. “Missed you.”
“Never again,” I whisper, voice trembling. My hands slide down his sides, settling on his waist. “Remind me what I’ve been missing.”