Chapter 22
AVA
Five…four…three…two…one.
From the comfort of my couch, I watch as the team celebrates on-screen. They rush Bouchard, surrounding the goalie with hugs and backslaps. It’s his first shutout of the season, and the excitement is infectious.
Heck, I’m nearly two thousand miles away, and even I can feel it.
For the first time, the Gliders actually look like a team. They played like one too. The passes were solid, there was no visible friction, and the celebrations were loud and authentic.
I’ve never been a proponent of violence, but when Kristiansen stepped up to defend McGinnis, I felt like a proud parent.
The work we did last weekend is clearly paying off. I didn’t get to watch practice this week since the team is traveling, but I held a number of productive virtual sessions. The guys are really starting to open up, and I’ve got individual coaching plans for nearly every single one of them now.
Davis and Sutter remain closed-off, but we’ll get there.
A grin splits my face, and I don’t even bother trying to fight it.
For the first time in weeks, it feels like things just might work out. If there’s any justice in the universe, my father and Banks are feeling it too.
A girl can dream…
I grab my phone and send Knox a congratulations text, even though he probably won’t see it for a while. It’s late and I’ll probably be asleep by the time he messages back, but at least he’ll know I saw the game and that I was thinking of him.
Using the remote, I shut off the TV before I stretch and shuffle to my bedroom to complete my nighttime routine.
By the time I crawl into bed, I’m exhausted. The highs and lows of the game have taken an emotional toll, and I’m ready to crash. I can only imagine how the guys feel after expending so much physical and mental energy.
Then again, they’re probably riding high on tonight’s win.
Rightfully so.
I couldn’t be prouder of Knox or the broader team. They earned it through hard work, dedication, and a willingness to trust the process. If they hadn’t been willing to get vulnerable—with me and with each other—I’m not sure they’d be celebrating a win tonight.
But they did win, and they deserve to celebrate.
It’s the perfect way to end a road series before returning home tomorrow.
I roll onto my side and curl into a ball, pulling the duvet up to my chin.
With the team traveling, things have been quiet at the training facility this past week. I missed having the guys around.
And even though I’m pretty sure it’s against the rules of our situationship, I miss Knox in particular. I miss the way he looks at me when he thinks no one is watching, miss the sound of my name on his lips, miss the way he holds me in his strong arms after we make lo—have sex.
Restless, I flop onto my back and stare up at the stark white ceiling. The duvet tickles my chin, but it’s far less distracting than thoughts of orgasms.
Great. Five minutes ago, I was beyond exhausted. Now, my mind is racing and sleep is elusive.
That’s what you get for thinking about sex right before bed.
I sigh. How is this my fault? I didn’t ask for thoughts of orgasms dancing through my head. Heck, if anyone is at fault, it’s Knox with his toe-curling pleasure and expert tongue.
If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t even know what I’m missing.
Talk about a tragedy.
Whatever. This wouldn’t even be an issue if I were curled up in his big, cozy bed.
So go curl up in his big, cozy bed. There’s nothing stopping you…
Right. Just the fact that he’s out of town.
He gave you a key, and he said you could use it any time.
I doubt he expected me to pull a Goldilocks when he made that statement.
Ugh. Why is my pillow so flat? It’s like a freaking pancake.
I roll over and give it a few good squishes, trying to get it just right.
Spoiler alert: It doesn’t work.
I lie back down and close my eyes, willing sleep to overtake me.
For an instant, the world goes black, but then my stupid brain kicks into overdrive, filling the darkness with memories of Knox and the first and only time I slept in his bed.
It was like sleeping on a cloud. A cloud with piles of soft, squishy pillows.
He’s out of town, and so is McGinnis.
There’s zero risk of getting caught.
Am I really considering this?
I turn to the clock on my nightstand, the red numbers glowing ominously in the dark.
It’s nearly one, but I can still get a solid eight hours if I go to sleep now.
Unfortunately, I can’t stop thinking about Knox’s bed. Or the way his mattress hugged and supported my body, making it easy to drift off.
Screw it.
I throw back the duvet, grab my phone, and head downstairs in search of my keys. They’re hanging by the door, as usual, and I lock up as I slip outside.
The night is chilly, raising goosebumps on my arms, and the scent of fall hangs in the crisp air.
The combination of musty leaves and damp earth is oddly satisfying, and I can’t help but grin at the skeleton wreath on Knox’s door.
Since he’s out of town, I handed out Trick or Treat candy last night, but the neighborhood kids enjoyed his festive décor—which includes skeleton bones, caution tape, and foam headstones—nonetheless.
My heart hammers in my chest as I slide the key into the lock, second-guessing myself every step of the way.
You aren’t doing anything wrong. The man gave you permission.
He did, but… No, no buts. I’m doing this.
I turn the key and the lock disengages, sliding back with a quiet thwack.
The door swings open, and I step into the foyer.
I’m greeted by Knox’s lingering scent, and my chest tightens with longing.
The townhouse is dark and silent, but the layout is similar enough to my own that I can navigate without lights.
I climb the stairs to the main level, which is much brighter thanks to the moonlight slanting through the blinds.
When I reach the upper level, nervous energy coils low in my gut.
Despite having Knox’s explicit permission to co-opt his bed, it feels wrong to let myself into his place when he’s not home.
I tiptoe down the hall and there it is: the bed I’ve been fantasizing about for weeks.
It’s probably a sign it’s time to upgrade my ancient mattress, but that’s a debate for future me. Current me just wants to sink into that glorious pile of pillows and imagine Knox at my side.
I drop my phone on the nightstand, pull back the comforter, and slip into the neatly made bed.
The sheets smell like him, and my heart squeezes even as my body relaxes into the soothing scent of sandalwood and citrus that is so undeniably Knox. It’s like being enveloped in his arms, and I feel safe and comfortable as exhaustion finally comes back to claim me.
Inhaling deeply, I curl up in the pillows and drift off to sleep, feeling closer to him than I have in days.
I jolt awake to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. Without thinking, I grab it and swipe accept. Knox’s smiling face appears on-screen, and I’m immediately conscious of the fact that I’ve got a wicked case of bedhead.
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
Smoothing my hair down, I smile. “Good morning.” I glance at the window where the first rays of sunlight are creeping over the horizon. “You’re either up very late or very early. Where are you?”
“I’m in an Uber.” His easygoing grin turns feral, and his voice is a low rasp when he speaks. “Are you sleeping in my bed?”
Heat floods my cheeks. There’s nothing to do but own it. “I was having trouble falling asleep last night, and you said I could use your bed anytime… I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? Darlin’, I fucking love it.” There’s a spark of something I can’t identify—desire, yearning, a mixture of the two?—in his eyes. “Does this mean you miss me?”
God, yes.
I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth, attempting to hold the answer back, but it’s futile.
“Of course I miss you.” A wicked idea takes hold, and before I can second-guess myself, I’m racing ahead, fueled by a good night’s sleep and newfound confidence.
“I miss the feel of your hard body pressed to mine as I grind against your thigh. I miss the feel of your tongue working my clit until I come all over your face. But most of all, I miss the fullness of your cock thrusting inside me while you take me from behind.”
A frisson of exhilaration electrifies my body, every nerve standing at attention. I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth. I’ve never been bold—in the bedroom or anywhere else—but I have to admit, taking control feels good.
Better than good. It’s empowering.
“Holy fuck.” Knox’s eyes go wide, and then they cut to the driver, but my words are for him and him alone. He’s wearing a pair of expensive earbuds, and as long as he plays it cool, the driver will be none the wiser. “Darlin’.”
I flash him a sultry smile, leaning all the way into my bratty plan. “Of course, if you’re a visual learner, I’d be happy to show you how much I miss you.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches, and a thrill races up my spine. He craves this connection as much as I do, even if he’ll have to ride it out in silence, unable to touch himself.
Turnabout is fair play.
Really, it’s just friendly payback for all the times he edged me, and it’s going to be so much fun.
Finally, Knox clears his throat. “I believe a visual aid would be best.”
“I thought that might be the case.” I prop my phone up against a pillow, making sure the camera captures all the important bits.
Then I trail a finger down the front of my nightshirt and flick the top button open, revealing my breasts.
“Do you have any idea what I’d give to feel your mouth on me right now? To feel your hot breath on my flesh?”
“Whatever you’re thinking, double it,” he growls.
I sigh and run my free hand over my breasts, kneading and squeezing, imagining Knox’s large, calloused fingers in place of my own. Desire pools between my legs and my core clenches, aching to be filled.
“God, I can’t wait until you get home so you can touch me for real.”