Page 81 of Sin Bin Daddies
But I hold on, waiting until she collapses beneath me, utterly spent, before finally letting myself go. I thrust deep one last time, my release hitting me like a freight train, my whole body shaking from the force of it.
For a moment, all I can do is breathe, my forehead pressed to hers, our hearts pounding in sync. Then I shift, easing out of her carefully, not missing the way she shudders at the loss.
Asher immediately moves to gather her in his arms, pulling her against his chest. I sit up, reaching for a towel, gently cleaning her up before wiping myself down.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Asher asks, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face.
She hums sleepily, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. “More than okay.”
I press a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Perfect.”
Asher grins, squeezing her closer. “Damn right she is.”
We settle into the sheets, wrapping her between us, warm and safe. And as she drifts off, completely spent, I know one thing for certain.
This is only the beginning.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Madeline
I grabthe mascot uniform from the back seat, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it. I swear the damn thing weighs a ton.
Ford’s car key is cool in my palm as I juggle everything, still flushed from the way he and Asher kissed me breathless in the parking lot. My lips tingle, my body humming with lingering heat.
They were relentless, teasing and stealing touches, like they wanted to brand themselves onto me before practice.
“You sure you don’t wanna stick around and watch?” Ford murmured, thumb tracing my bottom lip.
Asher smirked. “Or better yet, sneak into the locker room for a repeat of last night?”
I laughed, pushing them both away. “You two focus on practice. I’ll see you after.”
Now, as I step onto the sidewalk, my smile lingers—until I see him.
Leo.
Standing by the entrance. Arms crossed. Watching me.
I freeze mid-step, heat crawling up my neck. He saw. He must’ve seen. My lips are still swollen, my hair a mess from where Asher’s hands were tangled in it.
Shit. I force myself to keep walking, eyes straight ahead.
Just ignore him.
I hold the costume tighter and pass him, pulse hammering. “Hello, Coach,” I mumble, barely sparing him a glance.
His silence is deafening.
The air crackles between us, thick with unspoken things, but I don’t stop. I keep moving, heart pounding, my body betraying me with the way it reacts to his presence.
The equipment manager takes the mascot costume off my hands, barely glancing up from his clipboard. I thank him quickly, eager to get out before my nerves completely unravel.
But when I step back outside, Leo is still there.
Waiting.
He’s in his black team polo, sleeves stretched over his biceps, the Miami Icemen logo embroidered over his heart.
