Page 163 of Slapshot Baby

I've been pacing a few feet from the door handle since Ava said she was coming.

When I see Biscuit's nose pushing against the gap at the bottom, her whine cutting through the silence, I'm already moving. Already reaching for the handle before the sound finishes registering.

The door swings open.

Ava stands in my hallway wearing my hoodie, the sleeves bunched past her knuckles, her hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes are swollen, lips bitten raw. Her hair is loose around her shoulders.

Biscuit pushes past her ankles and trots inside like she owns the place.

Ava doesn't move.

"You blocked my number," I say.

"Lucy blocked your number." Her voice is scraped thin. "She took my phone while I was on my bathroom floor after you hung up on me."

"Your sister decided I don't get to talk to you?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't check?"

"I didn't know there was anything to check, Kai. You hung up. The next morning my phone was where I left it. I had no reason to look at my blocked list because I've never blocked anyone in my life."

"Four days." My hand is gripping the door frame. The wood bites into my palm. "I drove past your street twice. I sat in Theo's kitchen borrowing his phone like a teenager who lost his girlfriend's number."

"You think I had it better?" Her chin lifts just as her lips tremble. “I missed you.”

The anger drains out of me like water through a cracked pipe. What's left is the bone-deep, hollow ache of a man who thought he'd lost the one person keeping him upright.

I reach for the front of my hoodie on her body, close my fist in the fabric, and pull her inside.

She's against my chest before the latch clicks, her fingers gripping the back of my shirt hard enough to twist the cotton, her face buried in the space between my neck and shoulder.

Her whole body shudders, one long continuous tremor from her shoulders down through her hips, and I feel the heat of her breath spilling hot and uneven against my skin.

Four days of nothing and now this—her weight, her smell, the way her thighs press against mine like she’s trying to climb inside me.

"Four days," she says into my neck, voice raw. “I wanted you and couldn’t do anything about it. I touched myself thinking about your mouth and it wasn’t enough. I needed this.”

My hand slides into her hair, fisting the soft strands, while my other arm locks around her waist and hauls her tighter.

She presses closer and the warmth of her body soaks through every layer between us until my cock is already thick and heavy, straining against the front of my sweats. I can feel the soft give of her stomach, the new fullness of her breasts crushed to my chest.

“I thought I lost you,” I murmur against her temple, the words scraped out from somewhere deep in my chest.

She lifts her head, her eyes dark and shimmering with unshed tears. “You didn’t. I’m right here.” A sudden shift ripples across her expression. “And there’s something I need to tell you.”

I still instantly. I knew she was hiding something, carrying a weight she hadn't shared. “What is it?”

She hesitates, her gaze searching mine before she shakes her head. “After. I promise.”

“Ava—”

“After.” Her fingers dig into my shirt, pulling me down. “Right now, I just need you.”

She rolls her hips forward, grinding slow and deliberate against the hard ridge between my thighs. Every question left in my head instantly burns to ash.

My hand drops from her hair to the small of her back, then lower, cupping the full curve of her ass and pulling her harder against me. She looks at me with eyes that have gone almost black.