Page 161 of Shattered Souls
The entire scene is erotic.
“Fuck, I’m going to come,” Grayson grunts. His face is scrunched as if he’s fighting to delay the inevitable. I can’t fucking blame him; I’ve been attempting to recall old hockey stats just to keep myself from coming. I’m not ready for this to end yet.
“You going to come, Riley?” Royce asks. He’s now fucking her face relentlessly. Tears streaming down her cheeks as he holds her hair out of the way.
She mumbles what I seriously hope is a yes, and wedging a hand between us, I rub at her clit.
She tights around me a moment later. Royce’s thrusts stutter, and Grayson curses vividly while colors I’ve never seen before dance across my vision before my balls draw up, and I come.
Panting and breathless, we collapse in a sweaty heap on the bed.
When I finally catch my breath, I say aloud, “Please tell me we can fit one more round in before Aurora wakes up.”
47
RILEY
Aurora is practically bouncing on my lap, her tiny body buzzing with excitement as she watches the Huskies Championship game with wide, sparkling eyes. The arena is electric, filled with the deafening roar of fans, but all I can focus on is her joy and absolute awe at finally seeing Logan play live again. She’s been talking nonstop since we left the house this morning, her excitement growing with each mile we drove closer to the arena.
“Look, it’s Lo! That’s him, right, Mommy?” she asks for what must be the hundredth time, pointing eagerly toward the ice. Her voice is shrill with anticipation, making me smile every time.
“That’s him, sweetie,” I say, my heart swelling as I watch Logan skate across the rink. He looks so focused, so determined, every muscle in his body taut with concentration. The game is tied, and there’s less than a minute on the clock. It’s been a grueling match, with each team fighting with everything they have, but the Huskies have held their ground. They always do.
Beside me, Grayson is leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes locked on the game. He’s as tense as I’ve ever seen him, his fingers curled into tight fists. Royce, on the otherhand, sits back in his seat, exuding a calm confidence, but I can see the flicker of nerves in his eyes, the way he clenches his jaw every time the puck changes hands.
Logan secured tickets for Ava, Isabella, and Tara to join us. I’m pretty sure Tara’s just here for the hot hockey men—and quite possibly the violence—but Isabella has become as avid a hockey fan as Aurora.
“The Huskie’s goalie,” Ava muses, leaning over to talk in my ear. “Who is he?”
“I think his name is Nico.” I glance her way. “Why?”
She shakes her head. “Just asking.”
“He’s hot.”
She scoffs. “Don’t go getting any ideas, I’ve sworn off all men. I was only asking because he’s doing an incredible job of stopping the pucks.”
“Uh-huh,” is my only response. I’ll let her hold tight to that belief for now.
“Go, Lo! Go!” Aurora yells, drowning out any further conversation. Her little fists pump the air, her voice shrill as she cheers Logan on. She’s been waiting for this moment for weeks. All those nights spent watching him play on TV, her tiny voice cheering him on even when he couldn’t hear it. And now she’s here, in the thick of it, watching her newfound hero in action. My heart aches with love for her, for how much she adores him.
How much she adores all of them.
And how much they dote on her.
Logan lit up like a firework on the Fourth of July when he skated onto the ice. His gaze instantly found us and zeroed in on the matching jerseys Aurora and I are wearing, the number seven standing loud and proud on our backs. Even Gray and Royce are wearing Huskie beanies in support.
The seconds tick down, and the tension in the arena is palpable. I can feel it in the way Grayson’s fist clenches and Royce’s foot taps restlessly against the concrete floor.
And then, like a dream unfolding in slow motion, Logan takes the puck, weaving through defenders with a grace and agility that leaves the crowd breathless. Aurora is on her feet now, standing on my thighs as she grips the railing in front of us, her eyes glued to him.
“Go, Lo! Go, Lo!” she chants, her voice nearly drowned out by the thunderous roar of the crowd.
Logan moves in, his stick a blur as he dekes past the last defender. The goalie lunges, but it’s too late. The puck sails past him and into the net with a satisfying thwack. The arena explodes with noise, the cheers so loud they rattle the seats. Aurora screams with pure, unfiltered joy, her little body bouncing up and down as she throws her arms around my neck.
I’m not even sure she fully understands what’s happening; she’s just caught up in the excitement.
“Did he do it, Mommy? Did he do it?”
