Page 44 of Playing for Keeps

“Oh shit, look at your pussy taking my cock, Emerson. God that’s so fucking hot. You’re taking me so good, baby.”

“Gunnar!” She drops her hands to my ass, pulling me further into her body. I’m fully seated, pubic bone resting against hers, and I kiss her, reveling in the feel of our bodies connected.

Her tongue slides into my mouth, and she starts to move, so I join her, rolling my hips. I can already tell which movements make her squeak and which ones make her groan deeply. I feel the small muscle contractions when she draws in a sharp breath, and I take note when her eyes fly wide at the press of my fingers against her nipples.

“Gunnar, I feel so full! This is amazing. Is it always like this?” She’s gulping in air now, sweating as she moves with me.

I laugh, holding still as she rocks and glides beneath me, finding what feels good for herself. “Gunnar, I’m going to come again. Touch me, please.” And I do, balancing myself on just one arm now as I reach for her clit and press down while I hammer into her faster and harder, deeper and longer until I feel that fantastic rippling pulse of her orgasm.

“Emerson, holy shit this feels incredible. Baby, nothing has ever felt so good. God damn!” I grunt and seize above her, balls tightening as a huge blast of release spurts into her body again and again. I’m panting, kissing her with all that I have, sinking into her arms. This is perfection. This is us.

And then I remember why I was so worked up on the trip home. I remember the headlines. I remember what the tabloidsare saying about me and Ashley, as if I’d ever dream of being unprofessional with another hockey player. As if I’d ever, ever treat my wife with such disrespect. “Emerson.” I’m still panting, still inside her amazing body. “Emerson, I have to tell you something.”

CHAPTER 29

EMERSON

The world narrowsto just Gunnar and me in this moment - our bodies still joined, his weight a delicious anchor. I've never felt so complete, so utterly safe. My fingers trace the muscles of his back, memorizing every dip and curve. For once in my life, I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.

Which is why I notice immediately when his body tenses.

"Emerson." His voice is rough, strained. "I have to tell you something."

My heart skips. He brushes my hair away from my face, his blue eyes serious. The tenderness of his touch somehow makes whatever is coming worse. "What's wrong?"

"There's something in the press... about me and Ashley."

“The women’s team goalie?” He nods. The warmth drains from my body despite our connection, what we just shared. I think of seeing them together - their easy rapport and shared understanding of the game. But I know Gunnar. He sees her as a peer, a colleague. “Wait.” I try to sit up, and he rolls to the side to let me. “They’re implying that you …” I trail off, unable to finish the sentence. But he catches my meaning.

"It's completely false," he rushes to add. "Complete bullshit. They're saying we've been... that we've been meeting up. That it's affecting her husband's game."

I try to process this while he explains the tabloid article about Thompson's slump, and the league's concerns. Part of me wants to pull away and cover myself, but Gunnar pulls me closer as if he can protect me from this with just his body alone. Like always, his touch centers me. However, the revelation is upsetting.

"I think Brian is thinking..." Gunnar hesitates, and I feel his heart pounding against my side. "Brian believes your father might be feeding this to the press."

"My father?" The words come out hollow. Of course, he would. Of course, he'd try to destroy this, too. This beautiful thing I've found, this man who makes me feel safe and valued - my father would never let me keep it. He sees me as a threat to his work, so he’s trying to take away my Gunnar.

"Hey, look at me." Gunnar cups my face, and I feel the wetness of his palms. I’m crying. "Brian is already working on it. We can fight this."

I shake my head, finally shifting away from him. This is why I can't have nice things. I can’t choose my instrument. I never chose my college major or my occupation. The things I choose bring about destruction. I look into my husband’s eyes, so steady and intense, focused on me. “Your career, your endorsements... this is exactly what my father wants. To prove that I ruin everything I touch."

"Salty, please." I back away from him and climb out of the bed. He reaches for me, but I'm already wrapping myself in the sheet. "Don't do this. Don't let him win."

"I'm toxic to your career, Gunnar. The hospital deal, the milk campaign - everything you've worked for..." My voice breaks as I think of how my presence threatens all of it.

"Then we'll figure something else out. Please, just... talk to my mom first." He stands up, his eyes pleading. "She's been through this - when she and Dad were dating, the press tried to say all kinds of crap about their relationship. She knows how to handle it. She's a lawyer, Em. She can help."

I think of Juniper's warmth and her quiet strength. The way she brought me soup and sat with me through movies. But I also think of the headlines and how Gunnar's reputation is being torn apart because of me, as well as my father's ruthless determination to control every aspect of my life. Gunnar has a large, supportive family, and he’s bringing me into it while I drag scandal behind me like a virus.

"I can't let you lose everything because of me." I gather my clothes, hands shaking.

"The only thing I'd lose is you." His voice cracks. "And that would destroy me more than any scandal."

I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him. But I can already see tomorrow's headlines and imagine the whispers in the locker room. My father won't stop until he wins - he never has. He'll keep coming for Gunnar, keep trying to destroy him until I give in.

"I need some time to think," I whisper, clutching my clothes to my chest. "I need..."

"Emerson." He sounds desperate now. "At least talk to my mom. Please. Let me call her."

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