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When I finally begin to come down, my chest heaving and heart racing, he looks at me, his blue eyes shining with satisfaction.
In a move that shows that Jacob Walker is more than the labels I've given him, he murmurs, “Perfect,” before placing a gentle kiss on my inner thigh.
Adjusting my blue dress back down, his touch is gentle and almost reverent, the rough passion from moments ago shifting into something soft and almost tender.
He slides up beside me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close, and I can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my back.
It's a soothing drum that melts away the last ounce of resistance in my stubborn body.
I hold onto it, to that rhythm, as he leans down and plants a soft kiss on my neck, his breath warm against my skin as I close my eyes and let sleep finally take over.
Chapter 11
Jacob
Iwake up with a start, the sunlight cutting through the small gap in the curtains like a spotlight exposing the disarray around the room.
Gabi's hotel room always feels so damn familiar, almost like coming home, and that's messing with my head.
Last night was...something else.
Her soft breaths next to me. The way she held onto me. Her body trembling underneath mine.
It was more than just a physical connection. It felt like a homecoming, and I've got to figure out why.
But before I can dwell too much on that, there's this buzzing excitement in the air.
Today's the big playoff game against New York, and the whole team's riled up, especially with the new defenseman they've added.
Everyone's talking strategy, but me?
I'm still buzzing from waking up beside Gabi, her scent lingering on my skin and my mind replaying every moment of last night like it's on loop.
I felt like a new man stepping out of that bed this morning, recharged in a way I haven't been in years. But with this game looming over us, I've got to get my head straight.
The city of Chicago's counting on us, my teammates are counting on me, and hell, I can't let a night in Gabi's bed—no matter how incredible it was—distract me from what needs to be done on the ice.
But damn, if it wasn't the best start to a game day I've ever had.
I skated out onto the ice with my teammates, the crowd roaring around us like we were gladiators entering the arena.
My heart pounded in my chest, not just from the anticipation of the game, but from the whirlwind of thoughts about Gabi swirling in my head.
I want to tell her how I really feel, but the fear of rejection—of losing what we have—is gnawing at me. And what would Giovanni think if he found out? He's been my ride-or-die since the beginning, and he's always been protective of Gabi.
I can't imagine he'd be too thrilled at the prospect of us together.
The puck drops, jolting me back to reality.
This is game two of our seven-game series against New York, and they're out for blood.
Slashing, hooking, you name it—they're using every trick in the book to wear us down. I'm dodging hits left and right, adrenaline surging through my veins. The physicality is brutal, and every bone in my body is screaming, but I'm holding my ground.
The whole city of Chicago is counting on us.
I can’t let a single misstep on my end cost us the game. Yet, as I pass the puck and take a hit against the boards, my mind drifts to Gabi's face, wondering if she's watching, wondering if she feels the same way.
I try to focus, to stay locked in the game, but my mind keeps wandering back to Gabi.
