Page 36 of Player Misconduct
I feel him give in just a little and change the subject.
"Were you feeling my pulse because you were worried I was dead?"
"Just... checking."
"Would you have missed me?" His palm spreads warm across my stomach. "If I'd been gone?"
"Do we really have to talk about this?"
"You would've cried at least a little, right?" His thumb draws lazy circles just below my navel. "Because you have to admit, last night was pretty good."
Good?
Good doesn't even touch what last night was.
I've never felt that connected to another human. Never had that many orgasms from penetration alone, never mind everything else he did with those ridiculous hands and that criminally talented tongue. Never felt so completely seen and wanted and safe all at once.
But we were both terrified. Convinced we might not see morning. That has to be why it felt so intense. Trauma bonding. Adrenaline. That's all this is.
"A tear, maybe, but only because the Hawkeyes need you to win the Stanley Cup." I tease.
He squeezes my hip and I jump with a chuckle. "You're heartless, Doc," he says.
"Okay, maybe more than one tear." I concede.
Though the truth is, I don't think I would be the same if I had woken up this morning and he hadn't. Going on with the rest of my life knowing that Aleksi was no longer in it would have broken something in me that would never be repaired. And I have no intentions of digging into that any deeper.
"We have a couple more hours before the CDC comes back," he mumbles against my neck. "Sleep. Long day ahead either way."
He's right. I need rest. Need to conserve energy for whatever comes next.
I let myself sink back into him, into the warmth and safety of his body curved around mine. His breathing evens out again. The room settles into quiet.
Sleep doesn't come for me. I lie there listening to his heartbeat against my spine, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, memorizing the weight of his arm.
Storing it up for when I have to let it go.
When I wake the second time, pale morning light is prying at the edges of the curtains. Aleksi’s arm is still around me, his chest rising and falling in that steady rhythm that calms something in me.
Outside, hallway voices. The CDC team is back. I hear the knocks, thermometers, the slow machinery of protocol down by the pool.
Reality crashes in like surf.
I just had the best sex of my life with a man who clearly wants more. Who looked at me last night like I was something precious instead of a disaster waiting to happen. Who made me a ring out of athletic tape and called me his wife like he meant it.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it carefully, trying not to wake him.
Nine new messages from Tarron.
My stomach turns.
Tarron: Maybe it's fate we'll both be in Seattle
Tarron: I'm different now, K. I've done the work
Tarron: Just give me an hour. That's all I'm asking
K. His nickname for me.
