"Here?" he asks, his voice rough with desire.
"Yes. Now."
“I don’t have a condom in here.”
“It’s safe. I just finished my period two days ago.” We had already talked about STI testing and we’d shared our clean reports.
He shifts beneath me, positioning himself at my entrance. Our eyes lock as I sink down onto him, taking him fully inside me.
"Fuck," he breathes, his hands tightening on my hips. "I’m not going to last long."
I begin to move, finding a rhythm that has water lapping at the tub's edge. His hands guide me, lifting me and bringing me down onto him with increasing intensity. Each stroke hits exactly where I need it.
"I love watching you like this," he says, his eyes never leaving mine. "Taking all of me."
His words push me closer to the edge. One of his hands moves between us, his thumb circling my clit as I ride him. The dual sensation is too much. I shatter around him.
"That's it," he groans, continuing to move inside me as I pulse around him. "Fuck, yes."
As my climax subsides, he stands suddenly, lifting me with him. Water cascades off our bodies as he steps out of the tub, still inside me, my legs wrapped around his waist.
"Bed," he grunts, carrying me dripping wet into the bedroom.
He lays me on the bed, following me down, never breaking our connection. He begins to move again, deeper now, more forceful. I cling to his back, loving the feeling of his muscles working as he drives into me.
"Elena," he gasps, his rhythm faltering as he nears his own release. "I love you. So much."
"I love you too," I whisper against his ear.
His body tenses above me, and he cries out my name as he comes. I hold him through it, my hands stroking his back, my lips pressed to his shoulder.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, skin drying in the cool air. He pulls the blankets over us, tucking me against his side. I nuzzle into him.
"That was certainly one way to warm up," I say, pressing a kiss to his skin.
He laughs, the sound rumbling through him. "More effective than the bath, actually."
"I don't know. The combination was pretty spectacular."
His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back. "We should probably go back and drain the tub."
"In a minute," I murmur, too content to move.
He kisses the top of my head.
I smile against his him, my eyes drifting closed. In this moment, everything feels perfect—my body satisfied, my heart full, my future suddenly clear. This man who holds me like I'm precious, who looks at me like I'm everything he's ever wanted, who's worked so hard to become someone worthy of love—he's mine.
He was the one I was never supposed to touch. The one I couldn't resist. And the one I'll never let go.
Epilogue
One Year Later
The horn blares as the clock hits zero. The roar of eighteen thousand fans crashes over me like a wave as I throw my gloves into the air, my teammates slamming into me from all sides. McCoy grabs my helmet, screaming something I can't hear over the crowd.
I scan the stands, looking for Elena. She's there in her usual spot, fifteen rows up from our bench, wearing my away jersey and jumping up and down. Our eyes lock across the distance, and she blows me a kiss. One year together, and she still makes my heart stop.
We form the handshake line, a blur of sweaty, exhausted men congratulating each other through gritted teeth. The Minnesota players look shell-shocked. I would too if I'd just blown a three-goal lead in the third period.
