Page 130 of These Wicked Hearts

“Is it helping?”

He smiles a little. “It’s better. At first it was a little weird, but it is helping, I think. It’s either helping or something else is quieting the voices.” He tips his head up at me. “Can you um, tell me more about you?”

I almost tell him I don’t want to share more, but how can I when he’s told me so much.

“I mean, there’s nothing dramatic or anything, aside from my parents’ death. I was really young. I don’t really remember them. I don’t even have a picture of them. After, I went to a couple of homes before my permanent foster parents. They were a couple who fostered anywhere from eight to sometimes fifteen kids at a time. They were okay, I guess. It never felt like a home, though. More like a boarding school. I was young when they took me in. They weren’t mean or anything, it just felt a little lonely at times. I didn’t fully understand why my parents weren’t around anymore. I was there for a while until Jesper, Chen, and Declan were fostered. I was the first, then Chen. Jesper and Declan moved in within months of each other. We all became really close.”

“What happened?”

I shrug. “We aged out. They clothed us, fed us, and paid for whatever we needed, but we all knew once we turned eighteen that was it. We were on our own.”

“That seems cold.”

“I can’t complain. They took care of me, and with the horror stories I’ve heard, we were some of the lucky ones. We had everything we needed.”

“Except love,” Atlas says softly, and the words ring through my chest.

“Yeah, well, you don’t need love to live.”

He tips his head back up. The water’s getting cold now. “Have you ever been in love?”

My breaths slow to a halt. My skin feels too tight. “No, Atlas. I haven’t.” But I feel the lie on my tongue. It tastes sour and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve never been in love before, but I feel something now, and this . . . well, if this isn’t love, I don’t know what could be.

I take off my towel and turn as I see Atlas come into his room and drop his own towel into the hamper. My gaze drags over his body. His damp chest, tapered waist, and strong, thick thighs. An athlete’s body. A body that submits to me in the sweetest way possible.

He walks to me, and I can’t find an ounce of that submission in his blue eyes.

Without a word, his hand slides up my face to cup my cheek, forcing my gaze onto him. His thumb idly drags along my jaw.

“What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, he licks his lips then presses a soft kiss to my mouth.

“Lie down, Gage.” I arch my brow at that, not used to demands like this from him. “Not right now,” he whispers, and suddenly I feel very small. He kisses me softly, walking me back against the edge of the bed. I fall back onto it, looking up at him as I inch up the mattress.

His knee dips onto the bed as he crawls over me. My hands are greedy, touching his stomach before they travel back to grab his ass and pull him closer. I’ve never been with an athlete before him, let alone a hockey player. I know I’ll never see an ass like this again in my entire life.

I tug him forward, but he shakes his head. “Not this time, Gage.” My confusion grows thicker when he leans down, kissing me into the bed.

He covers my body.

“Spread your thighs for me.”

My thighs widen on instinct, making space for him as he kisses me. I think I like this part the most. The calm before the storm. His lips center me, and with his large body on top, I can’t escape.

And I don’t want to.

His palms smooth up my thighs. “Damn, Gage. You’re fucking beautiful.” He leans his body down in the center of my hips and grinds against me. I reach between our bodies, between my thighs, and rub where I want him.

He pulls back enough to look down at where my fingers touch, then he moves down. I don’t have time to ask before he shoves my thighs back and strokes his tongue across my hole.

“Atlas.” My back arches as he licks and teases me. He looks up, those blue eyes the heaviest I’ve ever seen them. “O-oh fuck. Yes.”

He closes his eyes, tugging me closer and fucking me deeper with his tongue. He presses kisses along my cheek, and I feel his fingers tease before slowly pumping their way inside.

“Fuck, Gage.” He bites his bottom lip, watching his thick fingers stretch me open.

“That’s it, Atlas.” His name comes out breathy.