Show Me Forever (Chicago Railers Hockey #3)

Chapter 1 Rina

Rina

Two months earlier…

The bass pounds hard enough to feel it in my bones. It’s a steady pulse beneath the music. Lights strobe across the packed club, painting the crowd in flashes of silver and blue. Bodies move in every direction, the air thick with perfume, sweat, and the sharp bite of spilled vodka.

My date leans in, shouting something about quarterly projections. Or profit margins. Or whatever it is men like him think makes them interesting. His breath smells faintly of gin. I nod, take a sip of my drink, and pretend to listen while my mind drifts elsewhere.

He’s nice enough.

Smart, successful, safe.

And utterly forgettable.

Why am I so restless?

I came here to remind myself I could still do this. I could smile, flirt, and pretend to care. But all I can think about is how empty it feels. How much of my life revolves around managing other people’s disasters while mine quietly simmers beneath the surface.

It’s a shock when my gaze catches on a familiar face.

One I’ve spent months training myself not to look at.

One that belongs to a man who is completely off-limits.

The sight of him slams into me before I can mask the reaction.

I tell myself to look away.

To remember every reason I shouldn’t want him.

But my brain refuses to listen.

Oliver Van Doren leans against the bar, looking like sin in human form, with a glass of whiskey held loosely in one hand.

His shoulders strain against the pale fabric of his shirt, every line of him carved with effortless confidence.

The top buttons are undone, a tease of skin and arrogance that feels deliberate.

His blond hair is just mussed enough to look like someone has already had their hands in it.

He doesn’t have to demand attention.

People just give it to him.

Even when I tell myself to turn back before he notices, my gaze continues to linger. There’s something about him I’m not strong enough to fight.

And that’s a problem.

The moment his eyes find mine, the noise of the club fades to nothing but the thud of bass and the electric hum between us. His smirk is slow and knowing. It’s the kind of expression that promises trouble.

Fuck.

I really need to look away and pretend I didn’t see him.

Instead, I hold his stare.

He’s on the move before I can question the decision.

Or the ramifications.

The crowd shifts around him, parting as if even the air knows better than to get in his way. He walks with a predatory ease that makes my skin heat and my better judgment unravel. Each step eats up the space between us until there’s nowhere left to hide.

By the time he reaches me, my date has already blurred into background noise.

Poor Jared.

He never stood a chance.

Oliver’s gaze flicks over the man at my side before slicing back to me. “What are you doing with this guy?”

I arch a brow, lifting my glass with practiced calm. “It’s called a date, Oliver.”

“First and last,” he growls, low enough that only I can hear.

A reckless heat curls at the bottom of my belly. It’s the only explanation for why I don’t end this right here. “Excuse me?”

“Ditch him.” His hand finds my hip, fingers pressing just enough to steal my composure. He tugs me closer until his body brushes mine, the contact sparking through me like fire catching dry tinder. Every reason I should tell him no goes up in smoke.

The laugh that slips from my lips comes out quieter than I intend, edged with nerves. “You can’t just—”

“Sure I can.” There’s a rough, taunting edge in the way he speaks. “Come dance with me.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Or the way the bass vibrates through my chest. Or maybe it’s just Oliver with that infuriating grin and the promise in his eyes that he could make every fantasy I’ve ever tried to forget a reality.

Whatever the reason, I let him pull me onto the dance floor.

The moment he does, the music swallows us whole.

He draws me against him, close enough to feel the heat radiating through the thin fabric of my dress. His hands find my hips, palms guiding me through the rhythm until every sway of his body feels like a dare I’m too far gone to refuse.

The air pulses with motion and sound until I can’t tell where the music ends and he begins. The bass thrums beneath my skin, and the steady drag of his breath against my neck syncs with it.

The crowd fades to a blur of color. Bodies grind, glasses catch the light, laughter spills and dissolves into darkness. Silver and blue lights wash over us in lazy waves, catching the sharpness of his jaw and the dark promise in his eyes.

I feel him everywhere from the slide of his hands tracing my hips, the rough scrape of stubble when his mouth finds the curve of my jaw, and the faint brush of lips that doesn’t quite become a kiss but steals my composure anyway.

Every shift of his body against mine sends another shiver racing through me. The scent of him wraps around me until I’m dizzy with it.

“This is insane,” I whisper, my words nearly lost to the bass.

“More like inevitable,” he murmurs against my ear.

The heat between us intensifies, coiling tight until I can’t stand another second of restraint. I spin in his arms, hands finding his shoulders, fingers sinking into the hard muscle beneath them. His gaze drops to my lips, and the look in his eyes turns molten.

The lights fade, the music dulls, and it’s just him with his forehead pressed to mine, his breath unsteady, as if he’s fighting the same impossible pull.

He whispers my name right before his lips find mine.

His mouth is hard and hungry, tasting of whiskey and want, like he’s been waiting years to do this.

The world dissolves.

My date.

The crowd.

The pounding music.

All gone.

There’s only him, the press of his lips, and the grip of his hands.

We keep dancing long after the song changes.

Long after sweat beads my skin and the room tilts with motion.

The music slows, the crowd thickens, but he doesn’t release me.

His hands roam my waist, then trace the bare skin along my arms before drifting down my thighs.

Each touch is a silent promise. Each brush of his fingers stokes a fire I didn’t know could burn this hot.

Beneath it all, a thought flickers through me.

It’s one that should be terrifying.

If I do this, it’ll change everything.

But it’s not enough to stop me.

The cool wind hits my feverish skin when we finally spill into the night, and I’m not sure if the dizziness spinning through me is from the alcohol or him.

In the back seat of the cab, his hand finds my thigh, fingers caressing skin as they inch higher. Before we even jumped into the vehicle, I knew exactly where this was headed.

And I didn’t stop it.

It wasn’t even a consideration.

I don’t care about lines or rules or the fact that he’s the one man I can’t afford to want.

He’s the player whose messes I spend my days cleaning up.

And tonight, I’m about to become one of them.

We barely make it inside my apartment before he kicks the door shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the darkness. His hands are already on me. Every movement is fueled by urgency as he lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bedroom. Every step is a collision of mouths and desire.

Clothing falls in a scattered trail behind us. My dress slips off my shoulders as his belt clinks against the floor. By the time we reach the bed, there’s nothing left between us but skin and heat.

He lowers me onto the mattress, his solid weight pressing me into the sheets. There’s no hesitation, no space for questions.

Only need.

He thrusts into me with one smooth, deliberate stroke that steals the oxygen from my lungs. The sound that escapes me is a gasp smothered in surrender. And I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything more devastatingly perfect.

“God, Rina,” he groans, his thick cock buried to the hilt. “I’ve wanted this longer than you know.”

Something shifts in his tone. The arrogance fades into more of an ache.

I arch, my nails digging into his back. “Oliver…”

His mouth finds mine again. The kiss is as consuming as it is desperate. Like he’s trying to memorize everything about this moment. Every movement between us builds, becoming faster, deeper, and harder until the pace turns frantic.

Until I can’t think.

Every thrust feels like a mistake I can’t stop making.

There’s only the slide of his body, the sound of our need, and the helpless way we’re chasing the same release.

When I come apart, it’s with his name on my lips, my body tightening around him as the world shatters and reforms in his arms. He follows with a rough, guttural sound, thrusting deep before going still, buried inside me like he never intends to leave.

For one reckless, perfect night, I don’t care about rules or consequences.

I just want this.

Want him.

And when silence settles, his arm still draped over me, I stare into the dark and let the truth bloom like a bruise.

We didn’t use anything.

Tomorrow, I’ll have to face what I’ve done.

But right now, in the quiet after the best sex of my life, all I can think is that I’ve crossed a line there’s no coming back from.

The scariest part is that I’m not sure I even want to.