Page 61 of The Hockey Pact

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire, but there was something else there too—a question, a hesitation.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough. "This changes things."

"I'm sure," I whispered, standing and offering him my hand. "No audience, no performance. Just us."

"So," he said, his voice rumbling beneath my ear where my head rested on his chest. "Definitely not in the original contract."

I laughed, playfully pinching his side. "Definitely not. Though I'm pretty sure we just violated no intimacy clause."

"I think we threw that out somewhere around Christmas." He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

I looked up, my gaze locking with his. "What happens now? The contract has an end date, but this—" I gestured between us, "—feels like a beginning."

His expression grew serious. "I don't want an end date with you, Riley. Contract or no contract." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch infinitely gentle. "But I need you to be sure. Your restaurant is finally thriving, and if you want to walk away when the year is up, I won't hold you to anything."

I shook my head. "I don't want to walk away," I whispered. "I think I've been falling in love with you for months."

His smile then was like sunrise—slow, beautiful, inevitable. "Thank God," he murmured. "Because I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you too."

As his lips found mine again, I marveled at the strange journey that had brought us here—from a desperate business arrangement to something neither of us had expected to find.

Caleb broke the kiss only to gaze into my eyes, his own shining with a fierce, protective tenderness. His hands framed my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones.

He swept me into his arms. I gasped, my body surprisingly light against his strong frame. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my lips finding his again as he carried me from the cool night air of the balcony, through the silent penthouse, directly to the bedroom. Our eyes remained locked whenever our mouths parted for breath.

The moment we crossed the threshold of the bedroom, the carefully maintained composure of our public lives, andeven our private, carefully navigated domesticity, shattered completely. Clothes were discarded hastily. Each garment hit the floor with a soft thud that echoed the frantic, joyous beating of our hearts.

We fumbled with buttons and zippers, laughing breathlessly, our hands eager, urgent. We fell onto the vast bed together, a tangle of limbs and seeking mouths, our bodies pressing close in an embrace that spoke of an almost painful need, a hunger to merge, to become one after being two separate entities for so long. The air in the room grew thick with the scent of our arousal, with the sounds of our ragged breaths and soft, yearning moans.

He positioned himself above me, propped on his elbows, his gaze devouring every inch of me. I met it with an openness, a vulnerability that I would have once found terrifying, but now felt like the most natural thing in the world. This was Caleb. My husband. He lowered his head and kissed me, slowly, deeply.

He pushed his cock into me then. My body arched to meet him, to take his dick deeper. I gasped as his thick cock filled and stretched my pussy. It was a perfect fit, a feeling of coming home, of completion. For a moment, we were still, just savoring the profound sensation of being truly united.

Then, with a shared sigh, the rhythm began.

His thrusts were tender at first, yet powerfully charged. I met his fervor with my own, my hips rising to match his pace, my nails lightly scoring the hard muscles of his back as the pleasure began to build, wave upon relentless wave.

“Riley,” he groaned, his forehead resting against mine, his breath hot and sweet. “You feel amazing.”

“You too,” I whispered, my voice choked with rising sensation.

He whispered my name over and over, told me how beautiful I was, his voice thick with an emotion that resonated deep within me. I responded with broken murmurs of my own, my body alive with sensations I’d never dreamed possible, each touch, each kiss, each deep push an affirmation.

We transitioned through positions seamlessly, our bodies moving in a dance as old as time. When I was beneath him, in the classic intimacy of missionary, our eyes never broke contact, our lips frequently meeting in deep, soul-searing kisses. His strength was a comforting, enveloping presence, and my active participation, my hips meeting his every thrust, was a sign of my complete trust and unbridled desire.

Then, with a playful grin that made my heart soar, I urged him onto his back, rising above him, taking control. My hair cascaded around my shoulders. I looked down at him, his eyes heavy-lidded with passion as he watched me, and I felt a surge of power, of pure joy.

I rode him then, setting a pace that was both teasing and demanding, watching his reactions, listening to the way his breath hitched, the way his hands gripped my ass, guiding me, supporting me. He was mesmerized, I could see it, and I reveled in his gaze.

The shared orgasm, when it came, was a cataclysmic explosion of sensation and emotion. It built with an unbearable intensity, a tightening coil of pleasure that finally, gloriously, snapped, sending us both over the edge into a state of blissful, star-dusted oblivion. Cries were torn from our throats, our names mingled in the air, our bodies convulsing together in perfect, shuddering synchrony.

Afterwards, we lay entangled, limbs heavy, skin slick with sweat, our breathing slowly returning to normal. Our heartsbeat in a steady, comforting unison against each other. Caleb held me close, his lips pressed to my hair, and I felt a peace, a rightness, I’d never known.

Chapter 20: Caleb

The notification pinged during morning skate. My phone was in my jacket pocket at the bench, but I knew from the cascade of buzzing that followed that something significant had happened. It wasn't until Coach called a five-minute water break that I had a chance to look.

My stomach dropped as I saw the notifications—a headline alert from a sports news app: "Boston Blizzard captain's marriage a business deal?" Beneath it was a grainy but unmistakable image of Riley and me seated at my dining table, reviewing paperwork clearly labeled "Marriage Terms."

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