Page 83 of Defensive Desire

"You know I love you too, right?" she whispers.

I gasp for air. "You do?"

She shakes her head, smiles and grabs me by the collar. "Of course I do."

Her lips crash into mine, hungry and desperate.

She kisses me like she's breathing me back to life, like I'm oxygen and she's been drowning. My arms wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against me as I back her toward the bed.

We fall together onto the mattress, a tangle of limbs and half-shed clothing. My hands shake as I peel her shirt over her head, revealing the soft skin I've memorized over these past weeks.

But this is different.

This is us. Us finally broken open, raw, and a real fucking mess.

"You're mine," I growl against her throat, tracing a path down to her breasts with my mouth. "You're it for me. I'm not going anywhere so long as you're around."

Emma arches beneath me, her fingers threading through my hair. Her skin tastes like salt and sweetness, and I can't get enough.

I strip away the last barriers between us, positioning my cock at her warm, silky entrance, watching her face as I push inside.

"Logan," she gasps, her fingers tracing my jaw, brushing away tears I didn't realize had slipped out. "I need you. All of you."

Her legs lift, wrapping around my waist, allowing me deeper.

I thrust into her, slow at first, then building to a rhythm that has her crying out beneath me. Her pussy clamps around my cock, her walls fluttering as she climbs toward release.

"Yes, baby. Come for me," I whisper, angling my hips to hit that spot right at the back of her wet cunt. "Let me feel you."

She shatters, pulling me over the edge with her. We collapse together, breathing hard, sweat-slicked and trembling.

After, we lie tangled in the sheets, my arm curved protectively around her. I press a kiss to her hair, inhaling the scent of her. All of her.

"No matter what happens... I'm choosing you. It always you, baby."

Emma rests her head against my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns over my heart.

For the first time since my mother died, I feel like I've finally forgiven myself for the past.

Because now, I'm building something that lasts. Something beyond hockey. Something that won't just chew me up and spit me out when I'm too old.

Emma runs her hands through my messy hair, whispering "I love you" like it's a secret meant only for me. Soon, she falls asleep with my hoodie pulled tight around her slender frame, her breathing soft and even.

I watch her, memorizing every freckle, every curve.

If this is what love feels like… no game, no title, no ten-year contract could ever compare.

Not when she’s the only thing I want waiting for me at the final buzzer.

Chapter Nineteen

Emma

The morning light slants through the cabin windows as Logan and I toss our weekend bags into the back of his truck. The mountains look softer in the early sun, like a watercolor painting that hasn't quite dried.

"You sure you got everything?" Cole calls from the porch, nursing what has to be his fifth cup of coffee after way too many beers yesterday. "Logan's not known for his attention to detail."

"Says the guy who once forgot his skates for practice," Logan mutters, checking the truck bed one more time.

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