24. Sabrina

Chapter 24

Sabrina

Good thing the All-Star tournament hadn't been as intense as a regular game. A lot of work, sure, but it wasn't exactly full-speed, make-it-count hockey. None of us put in a hundred percent during a game like that.

Which meant I could absolutely give a hundred percent to more interesting activities this evening.

As soon as we were in the room, I pressed Lila up against the door and kissed her hard. She gave as good as she got, tangling her fingers in my hair and moaning as she explored my mouth.

"Well, Miss Hamilton," I purred as I slid my hands beneath her blouse. " Are you and Miss McAvoy an item?" I traced the pad of my thumb over her clothed nipple. "Because you two seem… friendly."

"Hmm, I don't know where you'd get the idea we're more than friends." She nipped my lower lip. "Can't… Can't even imagine where you might think that."

I laughed, then claimed her mouth again. She was still grinning and so was I, but our lips quickly softened into a long, decadent kiss. I still couldn't get over how Lila kissed. How she could be so soft and gentle, but also firm and demanding—not quite aggressive, but nowhere near submissive.

Clothing put up a bit of a fight, but eventually, it was all scattered on the hotel room floor where it belonged. We tumbled onto the bed in a fit of laughter, which quickly turned into more kissing.

"You think…" She was out of breath, but she tried again, holding my gaze as she dragged her nails up my back. "You think they're on to something? That there's… some chemistry here?"

"Hmm, maybe?" I dipped my head to brush my lips across hers. "Might… Might need to do a bit more research."

"Yeah?" She arched under me, biting her lip. "Does that research involve orgasms?"

"Of course it does."

" Fuck , yeah."

I laughed, dizzy with arousal and playfulness and desire for this beautiful woman beneath me.

Lila parted her legs, and I settled over her, one thigh between hers and one of hers between mine. As I started rocking against her, she whimpered softly and dug her nails into my shoulders.

"That good?" I asked.

"Uh-huh." She arched under me, and then she was moving too, complementing my rhythm, just right. In no time, we found just the right angle and just the right rhythm, my clit rubbing on her thigh and hers rubbing on mine, and we made out as we moved together.

Every touch, every kiss, every ripple of electricity she sent through me—it was all-consuming, and I loved it. I couldn't get enough of her, and I wanted to make her come, and I wanted to come, and… God, yes, this was bliss.

Lila broke the kiss with a gasp, arching her back as she gripped my shoulders tighter. "Oh fuck, baby…"

"You almost there?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

I kept my rhythm exactly the same. Sometimes she liked to ride the edge for a while, sometimes she didn't. So I gave her what I knew would take her there, but let her decide when to let go.

Her fingers dug into my shoulders as she arched off the bed beneath me. "Fuck…"

Closing my eyes, I buried my face against her neck, and Lila made the most deliciously helpless sound as she fell apart beneath me. Her nails bit into my skin and her whole body trembled under me, her thighs clamping hard around mine as she whimpered into my hair.

As she started to relax, I slowed and stopped, not wanting to overstimulate her.

"Wow," she murmured. "Holy…"

I grinned and kissed beneath her jaw. "You're so hot when you come."

She squirmed under me. "So are you. So get on your back and let me make you come."

Laughing, I rolled onto my back, as soon as my shoulders met the bed, she was on top. She kissed me deep and hard, still breathless from her orgasm, and once she'd stolen my breath, she started working her way down my neck. Though I knew what she had in mind, she was in no hurry at all. She kissed all along my throat, then my collarbone. When she got to my nipples, she took her sweet time, teasing one with her mouth and the other between her fingers, then switching.

"I am getting so spoiled with you," I moaned.

"Why?" She ran the tip of her tongue around my nipple. "Because I can't keep my mouth off you?"

I bit my lip and squirmed beneath her. "Because you don't rush. Like… anything."

Lila huffed, her breath cool on my wet skin. "Who in their right mind would rush this?"

Before I could answer, her lips were around my nipple again, and the relentless attention from her tongue blanked my brain. Rush? Who said anything about rush? Nothing existed except Lila and all the incredible sensations she so effortlessly unleashed with her perfect touch.

She continued downward, kissing her way down my belly, and I whimpered as I parted my thighs. I knew exactly what was coming, and I swore I was halfway there from sheer anticipation alone.

Before she'd even reached my hip, I was playing with my nipples. I was still self-conscious about that at first, but one smoldering look from her—a glance at my fingers, then up at my eyes—told me just how sexy she found it.

So… I kept doing it.

And then Lila settled between my thighs, and…

Oh, my God.

The first time she'd gone down on me, she'd seemed… explorative? Not tentative, but like she was testing the water. Seeing what I liked. What made me gasp and tremble.

This time?

Oh, fuck. Whatever cheat codes she'd been looking for the first time, she'd committed to memory. The way she'd swirl her tongue around my clit and send me almost to the edge, then back off and start over again, taking me just a little bit closer each time—she'd been incredible at edging me last time, but my God, it was like she knew exactly how to do it now. When I rocked my hips, searching for more of her talented lips and tongue, she moaned and gave me more.

I bit my lip and worked my nipples harder as she continued working her magic on my pussy, and it wasn't long at all before I was precariously close to that edge.

"Don't stop, baby," I whined. "Oh my God. Please… Just like…" I didn't even understand half of what I was saying, but she clearly understood the assignment: keep doing exactly what you're doing, and you'll make me come .

And she kept doing exactly what she was doing…

And I kept murmuring nonsense…

And…

She made me come.

Holy fuck, did she make me come. She held on to my hips and kept licking my clit just right to keep my climax rolling without making me too sensitive, and I was just… putty in her hands. Completely surrendered to the bliss Lila wrung out of me.

It was only as she came up and wrapped her arms around me that I realized how much I'd been crying out. As we sank into a breathless kiss that tasted like me, my throat was scratchy in that way that meant I'd been shouting.

I broke the kiss with a drunken laugh.

She tilted her head. "What's so funny?"

I combed my fingers through her hair. "Just… realized I might've just set us back on that whole ‘let's keep this quiet' thing."

The laugh that burst out of her made my toes curl. This woman was just stunning. Eyes sparkling, she said, "Well, the people in the surrounding rooms definitely know someone just came like crazy. Doesn't mean they know who ."

"Or who made her come like that." I lifted my head and kissed her again. "Can still be our little… screamy secret."

Lila snorted before claiming another kiss.

The truth was, I did want to shout this from the rooftops. I wanted everyone to know I was with Lila Hamilton (though maybe not the part where she was giving me earth-shaking orgasms).

And I would. We'd come out. We'd appear in public as a couple instead of just friends or teammates. Our team would know, and so would our fans, our friends, and—for better or worse—our families.

Eventually.

For now, though, I was more than happy to keep all this bliss between us.

In the three weeks following the All-Star weekend, I really shouldn't have been surprised that, despite our best efforts… people knew. Either Lila and I weren't being very subtle, or the hockey community was just completely used to the idea of teammates dating.

There were plenty of straight women in the League, as well as bisexual women who were with men, but lesbians like us were definitely well-represented, too. And unlike the men's league, there hadn't been any need for slow and steady acceptance of queer players in their ranks. It had taken literally over a century before one of the men had come out, and that was after he'd retired. It was almost three years later before an active player came out, and another decade on before two players became a couple. Every step of the way, there'd been controversy and people screaming about wokeness and other bullshit, but eventually, the men's league had reached a point where a handful of gay and bi men played and not many people cared.

In women's hockey, it just… wasn't an issue. Never had been.

Which was why it didn't really surprise me when our teammates started gently teasing us about "date nights," or when the team's travel coordinator had come right out and asked if we wanted to room together on road trips. We'd gone from despising each other to being friendly to… well. This.

No one had any issue with it because why should they? And anyway, they were probably just happy that we weren't butting heads anymore. If we were getting along well enough to spark rumors about dating—great.

"Whatever you're doing," Coach Reilly had told us a week or so after the All-Stars, "just make sure it's not on the ice. As long as it doesn't cause any disruptions on the team, I really don't care."

She probably gave that talk to any teammates who dated, but I imagined there was a little extra emphasis where we were concerned because of our past animosity. I could live with that.

Beyond our team, though, we weren't out, per se. We weren't going to any great lengths to hide it, but we weren't broadcasting it or strolling off the bus holding hands. We hadn't posted any couple photos on social media. We hadn't changed our relationship status.

I could live with that. I wasn't about to come out to a nosy reporter, but letting our teammates and coaches figure it out was hardly the end of the world. The rest would shake itself out over time.

Besides, Coach Reilly was right about not letting it cause any disruptions on the team. With the All-Star break behind us, the playoffs were coming up fast. We needed to be focused as a team, especially in our division where every point counted. We'd been comfortably in third place since before the All-Stars, but Detroit was creeping up fast again. They were only four points behind us now, and they were on a winning streak. If we fell apart now, they'd knock us into the wild card slot before we knew it.

We'd lost to Chicago last night, and now we were up against Seattle. We had to win this one, especially since Detroit was playing Albuquerque, which had fallen apart after their strong start in the League; they were now dead last in the Western Conference.

Fortunately, I knew how Seattle played, so I was ready for them, but holy crap, they were putting up one hell of a fight tonight.

Halfway through the game, neither team had scored. Both sides were making drive after drive, but not getting past the other's defense. When they did get far enough for a scoring chance, the goalies played lights out. Seattle only had seven shots on goal. We only had nine.

Both sides were playing clean, too—there hadn't been any penalties so far, and it wasn't because the officials were letting things slide. Seattle always played a very disciplined game, as did Pittsburgh, so that was no surprise.

It was a grind, but we were determined, damn it. I didn't want to lose to my old team, and Pittsburgh didn't want to lose at all.

Seattle didn't want to either, though, so we all continued fighting for every millimeter of ice.

They kept us hemmed into our end long enough to wear down both our offensive and defensive lines. Finally, though, Euli got the puck away and into the neutral zone, and our exhausted skaters sprinted for the bench. My line went over the boards. Lila and Sims joined us.

Seattle managed to get some fresh bodies on the ice, too, but they still had a pair of forwards who hadn't been able to get off. They were tired, and we took full advantage.

Anastasia slapped the puck into the offensive zone. Laws, Lila, and I all zipped over the blue line, and after a brief battle against the boards, Lila had the puck. She sent it to me, and I fired it at the net. It didn't go in, but the rebound got away from the netminder. Anastasia seized it before a Seattle forward could get on it, and she passed it to Sims at the point.

I turned, ready to call for the puck, but something else caught my attention.

I wasn't usually dialed in to what the crowd was doing. I'd distantly notice if they were cheering or booing, and certain chants sometimes made it to my ears.

But every once in a while, there'd be a collective gasp and a ripple of concern. Even panic. Sometimes, if I was close enough to whatever had happened, I'd notice people banging on the glass, usually to get the refs' attention.

It was that collective gasp coming from our defensive zone, followed by a whistle, that spun me around so fast I almost lost an edge.

Instantly, I zeroed in on one of my teammates who'd gone down by the boards. One of Seattle's players stood over her, waving for the officials, who were hurrying that way. Connie, our trainer, was already on the ice and heading in the same direction.

Panic zipped through me, and I started in that direction as I quickly took stock of who was still standing, trying to figure out who'd gone down.

Sims… Laws… Anastasia…

Oh no.

Blood pounded in my ears as I crossed the ice toward the fallen player, and my stomach lurched up my throat as I confirmed what I'd already suspected:

Lila.

She was curled on her side, her face was contorted with pain. Connie was holding Lila's leg still, but the other moved, dragging Lila's boot along the ice as she writhed as much as Connie's grip allowed.

My heart slammed against my ribs. The leg Connie was pinning was Lila's bad leg.

Oh God. Please don't let it be her knee…

Not that any injury was ideal, but her knee could only take so much more before hockey was no longer an option.

The way Connie was holding Lila's leg, though, it had to be her knee. Maybe a hamstring or a quad? Something muscular instead of another tendon or ligament? At this point, a broken bone was probably more ideal than the alternative.

There was a little room beside Lila's shoulder, and after I'd tossed my stick and gloves away, I crouched next her. "Hey. Hey, take it easy. Don't move too much."

Still grimacing, she managed to open her eyes and meet mine. She reached for my hand, then paused as if she'd realized she still had on her glove. She tossed it away and grabbed on to my hand. I returned her tight grasp, not sure if she needed reassurance or a distraction. Maybe both.

Connie peered up at Lila. "What did you feel when you went down?"

Lila swallowed like she was trying desperately not to get sick. "It… like something gave?"

"Did anything pop? Crack?"

Lila shook her head slowly. "No. Not like last time."

That was a relief. Sort of. There were any number of things that could go wrong in someone's knee, and even the same injury didn't always feel or sound the same twice.

I squeezed her hand, and she gazed up at me, fresh tears in her eyes and her expression full of fear. Rubbing my thumb alongside hers, I shakily said, "You're going to be okay. You're in good hands."

She grimaced and nodded slightly. She was gripping my hand so tight it was almost painful, but I didn't complain.

Beside her, Connie, our team doctor, and one of the EMTs had a brief but animated conversation. Then the EMT gestured at his partner, who said something into his radio that I didn't understand.

The Zamboni gates opened, and my heart sank. The rattle of stretcher wheels on ice made my skin crawl.

"I'm going to get out of their way," I told her. "I'll be there as soon as I can, all right?"

Lila nodded. I gave her hand one more squeeze, then got up and skated a few feet away so the EMTs could do their job.

Deep down, I knew the decision to use a stretcher didn't mean the damage to Lila's knee was catastrophic. Sometimes we'd skate off the ice with help from our teammates. Even with lower body injuries. I'd skated off with a fractured tibia; hurt like hell, and I'd had to lean hard on two teammates, but I'd made it.

Sometimes, though, the people with letters behind their names decided it was more prudent to use a stretcher. Even if the player wasn't going to the hospital, it was best to get them off the ice without potentially making the injury worse.

That was what I told myself as the EMTs and trainers carefully moved Lila onto the stretcher.

It was what I told myself again as I gave her hand one last squeeze before letting go, and at least a dozen times as I watched them roll the stretcher out of sight. I wanted to follow. Cry. Puke. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was stay out here and play hockey.

But Lila was going to be an emotional wreck tonight no matter what. If the rest of the team fell apart over this, the guilt would be insult to very literal injury.

The Bearcats had to keep playing. I had to keep playing. I was the captain of this team, and everyone on it knew I was Lila's girlfriend. I had to be the one to lead us, keep my head together, and show everyone—my teammates, our fans, and my girlfriend—that we could play through this and anything else that came our way.

I called on the determination I'd had the day one of my teammates in major juniors had fractured her femur. She'd been rushed off to the hospital, and we'd all rallied as best we could, still managing to win that game even if it had been by the skin of our teeth. I'd managed to score even after I'd watched my linemate and close friend screaming in pain before they'd carted her off the ice.

I'd done it then. I could do it now.

I took a deep breath to pull myself together. When I turned to my shell-shocked linemates and Lila's rattled D partner, I could see the same determination in their eyes.

"We've got this," I told them. "Let's do it for Hams."

Nods all around.

I skated to the bench and conferred quickly with Coach Reilly. She kept my line out—we'd more than caught our breath from our intense shift—but she pulled Sims back and sent out the second defensive pair. We were down a blue liner now, and Coach wanted Sims to take a moment to strategize with the defensive coach. Sims probably didn't mind a few minutes to get her bearings; I sure didn't blame her.

Everyone was rattled. Everyone was worried about Lila.

And when we hit the ice again, we played our hearts out because we weren't losing our best defender and the game in the same night.