Page 69 of Face Off
Ollie’s thumb traces along my jaw, and the intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch.
We’ve said the words. Made the promises. But the space between us is still heavy, electric, thrumming with everything we almost lost.
He brushes his lips across mine, it’s tentative, like he’s asking a question.
I answer by kissing him back, softer than before. No hunger, no rush. Just the slow press of lips that saysI’m here.I’m not going anywhere.
His hand slides up into my hair, cupping the back of my head. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. “Let me take you to bed,” he murmurs, and it’s not a line. It’s a request.
My chest tightens. “Okay.”
We move slowly down the hall, fingers twined, every step heavy with unspoken things. In my bedroom, the lamplight throws everything in gold. It feels different tonight, like the walls themselves are softer, quieter, holding us in.
Ollie doesn’t touch me right away. He just looks, studying me like he’s trying to memorise every freckle, every flicker of expression.
“You’re sure?” he asks, voice low, rough around the edges.
“Yes.” My throat is tight, but the word comes out steady. “I want this. I want you.”
The way his jaw relaxes, just barely, makes me ache.
When he finally kisses me again, it’s slower than any kiss we’ve shared. His mouth moves gently against mine, coaxing, lingering. My fingers fist in his shirt to anchor myself.
He undresses me piece by piece, unhurried. No tugging or fumbling, just the slow slide of fabric, his knuckles brushing bare skin like he’s savouring the discovery. I shiver under the tenderness of it, goosebumps rising along my arms.
When his shirt comes off, I let my palms roam over the hard planes of his chest, the warmth of his skin under my hands. He shudders, not from lust but something deeper, almost fragile.
The bed dips under our weight as he eases me down, hovering over me but not pressing close. His eyes catch the light, dark with emotion.
“Chloe,” he whispers, as if my name is the only thing tethering him. “I need you to know… this isn’t just about tonight. It’s never been about that with you.”
Tears prick, unbidden, at the corners of my eyes. I reach up, brushing a thumb across his cheekbone. “I know. And it’s not for me either.”
The truth hangs between us, raw and delicate.
When he finally lowers himself to me, his body is warm and solid, the weight of him grounding. He kisses me again until I melt into the mattress beneath him.
Everything after that is patient. His hands map my skin with a kind of awe, not possession. Every touch feels like a promise, every kiss like an apology, every sigh like relief.
I lose myself in it, not the urgency of wanting, but the quiet miracle of being seen. Every insecurity, every scar, every hidden truth laid bare and still met with his steady tenderness.
When we come together, it’s unhurried. His forehead pressed to mine, our breaths tangled, our eyes open. It feels less like combustion and more like homecoming. Like fitting two jagged pieces of glass together and finding, somehow, they match.
And when it’s over, when we’re both trembling and quiet in the soft aftermath, Ollie gathers me against his chest. His arms wrap around me with a fierce protectiveness that makes my heart ache.
“Don’t ever doubt this,” he murmurs into my hair. “No matter what anyone says. You and me, yeah?”
My throat burns, but I manage a nod against his chest. “You and me.”
The last thing I feel before sleep pulls me under is the steady beat of his heart under my ear, strong, certain, and unrelenting.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
OLLIE
The rink’s always cold at this time of the morning, the kind of chill that seeps straight through your hoodie no matter how many layers you wear. I tug mine tighter around me as I limp toward the physio room, hip throbbing from yesterday’s drills. It’s manageable, hell, it’salwaysmanageable, but Coach and Mia keep drilling into me that “manageable” isn’t the same as “healthy.”
Mia’s waiting with her clipboard, ponytail sharp, Raptors jacket zipped halfway. She looks more alert than I feel, eyes narrowing at the way I favour my right side as I climb onto the treatment table.
