He closed his eyes, his muscles rippling as a delighted shudder wracked his body. “Fuck, you feel like home.”
His words hit me in the chest, filling my heart with so much unrestrained joy I could barely contain it. He’d missed me. He’d actually, truly missed me. That meant something…meant the world to me.
Slowly, gently, he pulled out and slid in again, the force of the thrust strong and steady and filling me so much I could hardly breathe around it.
Again.
And again.
He sank into me with slow, torturous strokes, all while holding my gaze, his free hand palming my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers before working his way lower, down my ribs, and sneaking beneath my back to hoist me up slightly.
The angle had him sinking in as deep as he could possibly go, each heated thrust hitting that spot buried inside me that solely belonged to him. The one that had me digging my nails into his back and rocking upward, urging his pace harder, faster, wanting to consume this man in the same way he was consuming me.
“Fuck, Evie,” he growled, gripping me tighter, holding me where I was and unleashing himself on me. Pistoning his hips, each point of contact an awakening.
“Maxim,” I moaned, clenching around his cock as my orgasm built and built.
He leaned down, crushing his lips against mine like he wanted to drink my cries of pleasure. Pleasure that he owned every inch of as he slowed his pace, sliding in and out, his pelvic bone grinding against my clit at the same time his cock hit that spot—
“Goddamn,” I breathed, clenching around him as my body shuddered with my orgasm.
“Yes,” he whispered, still hard, still moving in agonizing strokes that drew out my orgasm to the point my thighs shook.
Maxim pulled out slightly, and I blinked the stars from my eyes as I looked up at him. There was nothing but happiness, pride, and lust shaping his features.
Me.
Us.
I put that look there.
A look so open and wonderful and one I hadn’t seen before.
I reached up, cupping his face, unable to stop the words from rolling off my tongue, “I love you.”
Something flashed in his blue eyes, but he kissed me before I could say another word.
Kissed me like his life depended on it.
Kissed me like winning the Stanley Cup depended on it.
He drew back, shifting us both off the couch, and cradling me in his arms.
“Where are we going?” I asked, my voice weak and sated.
“I promised you seven,” he said, his tone guttural. “The next one is happening in my bed.”
Four and five happened in his bed.
Six happened against the wall in his bedroom.
And only when he’d hit the seven mark did he allow himself to come with me. And by that time, I was so lust-crazed and a bliss-fueled, that I was certain I’d imagined uttering those three words to him.
13
MAXIM
The first week in May was a blur. We were the first seed in our bracket for conference playoffs, and the pressure was at a breaking point. We were expected to win, touted as the shoe-in by the media, and each fluff piece that was published only elevated those expectations. Anything less than perfection would be a disappointment and celebrated as a failure.
One thing I’d learned about professional sports? People loved their heroes, but man, they loved to see them fall, and the pedestal we’d been on was set for a hell of a tumble.
So far we’d won three of our first four games, which put us back on home turf for game five tonight.
“You feeling lucky tonight, Zolotov?” one reporter asked, thrusting a microphone in my face as I made my way to the locker room. We would clinch round one of the playoffs if we won tonight.
I thought about the way I’d kissed Evie against the kitchen counter before heading to the game. “Absolutely.” The smile on my face was genuine as I pushed past.
Was feeling even luckier because she’d said she would be here tonight.
The woman who said she loved me. Not that I was holding her to it. People said all sorts of things when they were in the middle of death-by-orgasm, but still. She’d said it.
The pregame jitters were mixed with a hint of euphoria as I walked into the locker room and took my seat, nodding at the other guys as we geared up.
Finally. Not like she hadn’t seen me play before, but she’d always come to keep Mila company. This time she was coming for me. She’d be in the stands, the family section, where I could watch her smile all day long.
For the first time, it felt like the pieces of my life I’d always kept separate were falling into place. Maybe if Evie saw that all of the other wives and girlfriends would accept her without Mila as a buffer, she’d feel more comfortable about stepping out with me for more than just a game or secretive dates.