Chapter 39 #3
When I crawl back up her body, I kiss her deeply, letting her taste herself on my lips. She wraps her legs around my waist, her heels digging into my ass.
“I need you inside me,” she whispers against my mouth. “Now.”
My hand reaches for the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer for a condom. The foil rips open between my teeth as I roll it on. I’m hard again, aching for her.
Settling between her thighs, I line myself up and look down at her, really seeing her. Her hair fans across the pillow like a dark halo. Her eyes are wide, filled with trust and desire.
“I love you,” I say, the words coming out rough and raw. “I fucking love you.”
“I know,” she says, reaching up to stroke my cheek. “I love you too.”
Slowly, I push forward, sinking into her inch by inch. She’s tight, hot, and wet, hugging me like a glove. A groan tears out of me as I bury my face in her neck, fighting the urge to just slam into her.
"Move," she demands, her nails digging into my back. "Gio, move."
I pull back and thrust in, deep and hard. We both moan.
I set a rhythm, fast and desperate, fueled by the adrenaline and the love and the sheer fucking miracle of being here, together.
"You feel so good," I grit out, pounding into her. "So fucking good."
"Harder," she gasps. "Give me everything."
I let go. I stop holding back.
I fuck her like I'm starving, like this is the last time, the first time, the only time. The bed slams against the wall, the headboard rattling, but I don't care. Let the whole hotel hear.
I grab her legs, hooking them over my shoulders, changing the angle. I go deeper, hitting that spot inside her that makes her gasp.
"Yes!" she cries out. "Right there!"
I can feel myself getting close again, the pressure building. I reach between us, finding her clit, and rub it in tight circles.
"Come with me," I command. "Do it now."
She tightens around me, her pussy clamping down like a vice, and she screams my name as she comes. The sensation pushes me over the edge.
I drive into her one last time and explode, my whole body shuddering as I fill the condom.
I collapse on top of her, burying my face in her neck, gasping for air. My heart is beating so hard I can feel it against my ribs.
She wraps her arms around me, holding me close, her fingers stroking my sweat-slicked back.
We stay like that for a long time, tangled together, the only sound our breathing slowly returning to normal.
The adrenaline fades, replaced by a deep, bone-deep contentment. This is it. This is everything.
I roll off her, disposing of the condom in the trash can beside the bed. I pull her into my arms, tucking her head under my chin. She fits perfectly, like she was made to be here.
"Hey," I say, my voice rough.
"Hey," she whispers back.
I press a kiss to the top of her head. "We did it."
"We did," she says, her hand resting on my chest, right over my heart. "You're going to the Championship, Gio."
"I'm going to the show," I correct her. "I'm going pro."
I feel her smile against my skin. "I know. You're going to be amazing."
"Only because you're there."
She lifts her head, looking me in the eye. "I'm always going to be there, Gio. You're stuck with me."
"Good," I say, tightening my hold on her. "Because I'm never letting you go."
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, shattering the quiet. I ignore it at first, but it buzzes again, insistent.
I reach over, squinting at the screen. Unknown Number.
I frown, swiping to answer.
"Hello?"
"Gio! It's Marcus."
My agent. The sound of his voice—high, excited—brings me back to reality instantly.
"Marcus? What's up?"
"Don't ask me how I got this number, just listen to me." He's talking fast, words tumbling over each other. "I just got off the phone with the scouts. The GMs. Everyone. That game tonight? It changed everything. You're a lock."
My heart stumbles. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying the Blackhawks are interested. The Devils. The fucking Kings, Gio. They're projecting you as a first-rounder. A guaranteed first-rounder. You're going to the show."
I stare at the ceiling, the words washing over me. First-rounder. Guaranteed. The show.
It's what I've dreamed of since I was six years old, lacing up skates that were too big for my feet. It's what my father wanted. It's what I fought for.
But the only thing I can think about is the woman lying next to me.
"Gio? You there?"
"Yeah," I say, my voice steady. "I'm here."
"Say it. Tell me you hear me."
"I hear you, Marcus. I'm going pro."
"Damn right you are. Get some rest, kid. We've got a lot of work to do."
He hangs up.
I lower the phone, staring at the black screen.
"What is it?" Zoe asks, propping herself up on her elbow.
I look at her, really look at her. Her hair is messy, her lips are swollen, and she's never looked more beautiful.
I toss the phone onto the floor. "It was my agent."
"And?"
"He says I'm a lock. First round. The show."
A slow smile spreads across her face, bright and proud. "I told you."
"You did."
"So?" She leans down, kissing me softly. "How does it feel?"
I pull her back on top of me, settling her hips against mine. I look up at her, seeing my future in her eyes.
"It feels like I won," I say. "But I'm just getting started."
I flip us over, hovering over her, bracing myself on my elbows. The adrenaline is back, a low hum in my blood. The celebration isn't over yet.
"I'm going pro, Zoe," I whisper against her lips. "And I'm keeping you."
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me down. "You already have me, Rossi."
"Good," I say, kissing her deep and hard. "Then let's celebrate."