Page 54 of Out Of Time

“Take all the time you need,” she said, kissing his neck.

Giving himself one more second, he gained his composure and then began to move, slowly at first. Their bodies adjustedquickly to this new way of connection, this intimate exchange; sweat-slicked skin, her hands on his back, and his lips gently kissing her neck.

“You fit so perfectly,” Remi whispered, and he couldn’t agree more.

He wanted to take it this slow, to memorize the way it felt the first time he was here, with his woman, all emotions laid bare, but his body craved more of her. His need to move overcame his desire for this slow, deep connection, so he let go of the matters of the heart and began to move with the rhythm of his need.

Pushing deep inside her, his thrusts became harder than they had been mere seconds ago causing Remi to grip his shoulders as a moan escaped her. His body moved with certainty and a need for her he had been wanting to act on since the day Remi’s finger first brushed across his. Pulling her legs up, Remi made more room for him to move without restriction and his rhythm quickened. It came easily and naturally, being with her like this. It felt like he had done this a million times with this woman, it was the best first time he had experienced.

His body was on fire, his orgasm closing in on him as everything tensed and ached for his release. He felt Remi’s body doing the same, her fingers now gripping at his back, her eyes intent on him, intent on their release.

“Max,” she cried out. “There, there, there,” she moaned, and he knew he was hitting all the right places, his momentum unwavering as his body pushed into hers again and again. With the sound of their skin smacking together, their quickened breaths, and their inaudible words mixed with the distant roll of the ocean, he knew he was done for.

Remi’s body suddenly tensed under his weight, her legs wrapping around him and her eyes slamming shut as she cried out. He knew she was there, and he wanted to join her. Thrustinginto her one last time with all he had, he held her body tight against him as he came.

Before pulling away, Max leaned down and kissed the small smile on her face, and then her left dimple.

“I remember the first time I saw that dimple,” he said, lying on his back next to her as they both caught their breath.

“That dimple is for strangers,” she said, looking over at him in the bright lights of her bedroom.

“So, what did it mean when you showed me both?” he asked.

“The second dimple, that one is for friends, family, or lovers.”

“And what am I?” he asked.

Remi rolled over to face him, both dimples present. “You are all of the above, Max Miller.”

He leaned over and kissed her properly. They were in her bed, naked, and they were safe. He was safe. This was absolutely what home felt like.

Max skated out to the net. The crowd went wild as he took the ice, and he allowed himself to look up into the stands of the arena as the national anthem was sung by a local Condors fan. It was a blur. With the lights down low, the starting line standing in unison, the fans on their feet with hats removed, a sense of home, belonging, and family flooded Max.

He was going to miss this.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying his shaking body that trembled with nerves, anticipation, and guilt.

Was it wrong of him to take the start knowing there were no guarantees with him? Would his eyes work well enough to make the save? Was it wrong of him to just want one more game, until the clock ran out, until time ran out, and he was forced, prematurely, to hang up his pads and hand over his spot in front of the net to Brown?

One more season was all he needed. He needed to see as much, save as much, and celebrate as much as he could before the small lingering haze in the corners of his vision engulfed him entirely.

The lights came up.

The clock showed fifteen minutes.

Max blinked.

And blinked.

He thought of Remi at home, watching the game, watching him play, and despite the blurred lines on the ice, he managed to smile. Even if hockey seemed like a losing game for him, he found solace in the idea of her. Until now, he never had anything outside these arena lights, cool ice, and face masks designed just for him. Now he had Remi, and she said yes. Yes to everything, and to him that ultimately meant yes to letting him love her, because he was pretty fucking sure she was it for him. She gave him something to work towards, a new goal, a new forever outside the NHL, the Condors, and the Cup. For the first time in his life, his endgame had someone else in it.

The puck dropped, and it was up to the hockey gods now. One save at a time.

He blinked.

And blinked again.

His vision centered, and he watched, with only his periphery blurred, as his captain won the puck and skated towards the San Jose net. The rumble of the crowd's cheers echoed around him, and he wondered if it always sounded this loud. He wondered if it always shook the ice beneath his skates. If he could always feel the intensity of the game but just never noticed because he only ever relied on one of his senses. Now, his body, as if knowing his vision was slipping, was reminding him that there was so much more to depend on.

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