Page 25 of Slap Shot
She was standing closer to him than she'd intended, drawn by the combination of vulnerability and strength he projected in this space that was so clearly his domain. "I'm so sorry. Not just for suspecting you, but for not trusting you enough to ask for an explanation. You deserved better than that."
"Yeah, I did." The blunt honesty of his response made her wince, but then his expression softened. "But I also understand why you couldn't give it to me. Trust isn't something either of us does easily."
"No, it's not." She reached out without thinking, her fingers brushing against his hand. "But I want to try. If you still want me."
The contact sent electricity up her arm, and from the way Oliver's breathing changed, she knew he felt it too. Charlie, apparently sensing the shift in emotional temperature, sauntered out of the room with a soft whuff, leaving them alone among the glowing monitors.
"Wanting you was never in question.”
"I know we said this was complicated. I know there are a hundred reasons why we shouldn't, but I can't stop thinking about last night. About how it felt when you made love to me."
"How did it feel?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Like I'd been holding my breath for years and finally remembered how to breathe."
"I've been thinking about it too. About how you tasted, about the way you pulled me closer like you couldn't get enough."
"I couldn't. I can't. I know this is insane, but—"
"But what?" Oliver's voice was strained.
"But I need you," she whispered. "Right now. I need to show you how sorry I am. I need to feel you inside me, so I know we're okay."
“We’re okay,” he said. “You have nothing to prove to me.”
"But I do." She stepped in close until their bodies were flush against each other. "I can't stand the thought that I hurt you. That I almost lost you because I was too scared to trust what we have."
"You didn't lose me." His hands slid down her sides with barely restrained urgency. "But fuck, when you looked at me like I was a stranger, like everything we'd shared meant nothing—"
"It meant everything," she interrupted, her voice breaking. "You mean everything to me. Let me show you. Please."
Oliver's restraint shattered completely. He backed her against the nearest workstation and his mouth crashed down on hers like he was drowning, and she was air. This kiss was not gentle reconciliation. It was all teeth and tongue and barely controlled desperation, fueled by the fight they'd just had and the terror of almost losing each other.
"I couldn't breathe when you looked at me like that," he growled against her lips, his hands frantically pulling at her clothes. "Like I was nothing to you. Like I was just another suspect."
"Never," she gasped, her own hands tearing away his clothes. "God, Oliver, never. I was scared and I'm so fucking sorry."
"Show me," he demanded, lifting her onto the desk and stepping between her thighs. "Show me you're mine. Show me this is real."
His frantic touches were infectious, making her own hands shake as she worked his belt open. When she freed him, he was already hard and leaking, and the sight made her mouth water.
"I need you," she whispered, wrapping her hand around his length and stroking him slowly.
"Fuck," Oliver groaned, his hips jerking into her touch. "Don't stop. I need your hands on me."
But even as he said it, he was pushing her hand away, his own fingers hooking into her panties and tearing them aside with impatient force. The sound of fabric ripping made them both freeze for a moment, staring at each other with wild eyes.
"I'll buy you new ones," he said.
"I don't care about the panties. I care about you. Only you."
Computer monitors glowed around them, casting blue light across their desperate faces as Oliver positioned himself at her entrance. The servers hummed in the background, but all Heather could focus on was the way he looked at her, like she was everything he'd ever wanted, and he'd almost lost her.
"I need you to know," he said, his voice shaking with emotion and restraint, "that what we have is real. That I would never hurt you or betray you. That you can trust me with everything you are."
"I know," she whispered, reaching up to cup his face. "I know, and I'm so sorry I forgot. I'm sorry I let fear make me stupid."
He pushed inside her in one desperate thrust, both of them crying out at the intensity. There was no gentleness this time, no careful buildup, just raw need and the desperate desire to reconnect after almost losing each other.
