Chapter 5

Amelia

As I walk down the long hall to leave the Blade’s Edge for the night, my mind replays work for the day, making sure I got everything done for tomorrow’s game. But one thing sticks on repeat in my mind, the glances. Riley's blue gaze flicking my way, subtle but unmistakable. It's been happening ever since we went for drinks last week.

I push through the double doors of the building into the biting Chicago wind. The cold air slaps my cheeks and stings from being warm inside the rink. I shift my jacket up to my neck, tug my ponytail tighter, and stride towards the bus stop.

"Amelia, wait up!" A voice carries over the hum of traffic.

I turn to see a pair of lower-level players jogging to catch up. These guys are barely older than college kids, still carrying around their cockiness.

"Yeah," I say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear and forcing a polite smile. "What's up?"

"Party tonight," the taller one says, his grin a little too wide for comfort. "You should come."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I reply. They're nice enough guys, but parties aren't my scene - especially not team parties where whispers and stares follow me like ghosts of past mistakes.

"Aw, come on," his friend chimes in, falling into step beside me. "It’d be fun having you there."

"Really can't," I insist, picking up my pace. I need distance and space from their persistence. I don’t like to get close to people in general from fear of them not turning out to be who they say they are or knowing too much about me. I like to keep my friend circle small, almost nonexistent, and my secrets even more hidden.

They don't take the hint, matching my quickened steps as we move toward the thrumming heart of downtown. My pulse races, not from the walk, but from the discomfort knotting tight in my stomach.

"Seriously, guys—" I start, about to lay down a firmer refusal, but my words are cut off as I feel a firm but gentle hand wrap around my arm, yanking me back into a wall of warmth.

"Amelia, there you are," Riley's voice is startling but a welcomed sound. I twist around to find those bright blues locking onto mine.

"Riley?" My voice sounds small, almost drowned out by the rush of relief running through my veins. The lower-level players step back, under Riley’s glare.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we've got plans." Riley angles his body between me and them.

"Uh, sure, Cap, no problem," one of the guys stammers before they both sidestep away.

"Where did you come from?" I ask once they're out of earshot, trying to slow the frantic beat of my heart.

"I was just pulling up from the garage when I saw these clowns tailing you." His thumb brushes against my cheek. "Want me to take you home?"

I hesitate, knowing this isn't just about trying to flirt with me as a pickup line anymore. "Yes, please." My voice is steadier than I feel. Riley's presence has always had the power to unsettle me, even back in college, but tonight it’s a welcomed feeling.

"Let’s go," he murmurs, gently guiding me with a hand at the small of my back.

We reach his SUV, and both my body and my mind ease as Riley opens the passenger door for me.

"Thanks," I manage to say as I slide into the soft, leather seat.

"Sure thing." The way he says it; it’s like he's claiming responsibility for my safety. It makes me feel important. This is an odd feeling. I’ve only ever felt that from my parents.

He shuts the door and walks around to the driver's side. The engine purrs with the push of a button, and I watch him, taking in the furrowed brow and set jaw. I’m thinking that he's not just doing this because it's what captains of a hockey team do. There's something there between us, something that's been simmering since that night we went for drinks.

The drive is silent, but it's a comfortable silence, filled with glances that linger just a bit too long. My thoughts run through my head, turning over the events of the night, and the pull I feel towards Riley.

It's a tug I've been trying to ignore because trust doesn't come easy to me. It just feels impossible to block out, though.

"Here we are," Riley announces as he parks on the street in front of my apartment building.

"Thanks again." I reach for the door handle but pause at the sound of my name.

"Amelia?" I turn towards him; his eyes searching mine.

I swallow hard, knowing that this could be the crossroads of change. "Yeah?" I reply and lick my parched lips.

"Are you okay?" His question is simple but loaded with meaning.

I nod, meeting his gaze. "I will be.”

He reaches his hands up gently to cup my face. His thumbs brush my cheeks, and I like the roughness of his callused hands.

"Princess." The endearment and low tone of his voice vibrates through the space. "Are you sure?"

His eyes seem to search my face for any sign of distress. My body heats up. Every breath pulls me deeper into his presence. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff and not knowing what’s going to happen next.

"Amelia?" he repeats with a hint of urgency.

"Riley," I manage to whisper. I lean in, closing the gap between us with a kiss that starts tentatively but grows bolder by the second.

His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, deepening our kiss until the world outside this SUV no longer exists.

It's just us—the heat, the hunger, the undeniable need.

He pulls back, and the sudden loss of contact leaves me chasing after his warmth.

“Would you like to come up?" I say breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile, and without another word, we exit the vehicle.

The chill outside is not even a thought as Riley and I tumble through my front door, a tangle of limbs and hurried breaths. My key clatters to the floor, forgotten in the rush of hands roaming just about everywhere and kisses. The door slams shut with a thud that punctuates the urgency between us.

"Princess," he murmurs against my lips, his hands already skimming down to the hem of my sweater top. I arch into him, as he lifts the fabric over my head.

My skin tingles where the cool air hits, but it's nothing compared to the heat of his touch. His shirt joins mine on the floor in a crumpled mess.

"Here?" I gasp out, halfway between a question and a plea, as we back towards the couch. The light in the living room remains off with the only light shining coming from the kitchen. That was the only switch I could reach in my haste to enter and get my body wrapped back around Riley as fast as possible.

"Yes, it’s as good as any," he says, voice rough like gravel, and I agree because, God, it's been too long since I've felt like this—wanted and wild.

The couch is there in a flash, a soft landing as we fall onto it, all eager hands and seeking mouths; the bedrooms might as well be miles away. I'm vaguely aware of the precarious stack of yoga mats in the corner and the nearly closed door to my video studio—an off-limits area I'm not ready to share.

"Riley," I whisper, as he finds the waistband of my leggings and begins to peel them down. He's just as quick to shed his shirt.

He wraps his strong arms around me, one hand sliding up my back to cup my head gently while the other navigates between our bodies, finding the sensitive bundle between my legs. He massages my clit through my panties, dragging out a whimper of need from deep within me.

He groans in response, the sound vibrating against my neck as his lips trail hot kisses down it. His fingers work expertly at the thin layer of fabric separating us, teasing and prodding until I gasp for air. With a swift tug, he pulls off my panties, tossing them aside before burying his face between my thighs. His tongue darts out to taste me while his fingers explore my entrance, teasing it with gentle pressure that has me writhing beneath him.

"Dear Lord," I curse under my breath as he laps at me slowly and methodically. Each lick sends shockwaves of pleasure through me. Each nip of his teeth makes me gasp louder than before. My hands weave in his hair, tugging gently on the dark strands to pull him impossibly closer.

Riley hums in approval against my clit, standing up suddenly to yank off his jeans and boxers and cover his hardness with a condom before he lines himself up at my wet center. His thick length rubs against my swollen entrance at just the right angle. With one swift push forward of his hips, I feel full and even more needy despite the slight discomfort of being stretched so suddenly.

“Damn, Princess,” he says on a grunt while he pauses to let me get accustomed to his girth.

"Riley," I breathe out into the room as he starts to thrust shallowly inside me with a slow but steady rhythm. Our skin slaps together loudly each time we connect. It’s raw need colliding with barely contained passion. The smell of sweat mixes with the scent of sex, making the air around us stimulating and intoxicating all at once.

His hands find mine gripping the sides of the cushions, and he forces them above our heads to pin them there firmly so that his intense blue eyes are staring into my hazel ones. The grasp is unbreakable as if holding onto something precious… or maybe just staking claim to what's already his.

We move together on the couch, a symphony of sighs and muted groans, each push and pull drawing me closer to a precipice I’m all too ready to tumble over. The world narrows down to the feel of him, the taste of him, the relentless drive of his hips that promise a glorious climax.

Riley picks up speed as his thrusts grow deeper and harder, pushing me back into the cushions of the couch. He kisses my jawline, my neck, sucking gently and leaving marks in his wake. I can barely think straight under this sensory overload.

With one hand firmly on my hip, he guides me up to meet every forceful push while his other finds its way between us, stroking my clit with just enough pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body.

I gasp as he suddenly exits me and starts whispering filthy things in my ear about how much he wants me and how good my tight pussy feels. I bite my lip to stifle a moan when he slides two fingers deep inside me pumping them in and out and hitting my clit on every pass.

As soon as I’m about to beg him to fill me back up, he slides his cock back inside, filling that space once more, and pistons hard into me.

“You feel so damn good. That sweet pussy is all mine. You hear me?” he groans against my skin while looking down at where our bodies are joined.

“Yes,” I agree on a whimper.

As we move faster now, almost desperately seeking release, I bite his shoulder, leaving a mark that matches mine as we climb closer to our peaks.

"So fucking tight," Riley growls against my earlobe before biting down playfully on it himself. "I want to watch you come apart for me. Tell me when you're close."

"Okay," I pant out, meeting his eyes as I teeter on the edge. My back arches against his chest as my body coils tight until finally...

"Oh God... Riley," I cry out softly into the silence that follows our shared climax. It lingers for a moment before receding back into peaceful stillness filled only by our labored breathing.

The finale, it's triumphant and earth-shattering. We cling to each other, breathless and spent, the sounds of our pleasure slowly fading into the quiet of my apartment.

After a little bit, Riley shifts to get up, and then returns to me on the couch a few minutes later. The gentle rise and fall of his chest lulls me into a drowsy state. Wrapped in his arms, I let out a contented sigh, my ear pressed against his heartbeat. The warmth from his body seeps into mine, relaxing muscles still quivering from our frenzied moments on the couch.

"Comfy?" Riley's voice rumbles through his chest.

"Mhm," is all I can manage, too spent to form actual words. My eyes flutter shut, but my mind isn't ready to surrender to sleep just yet.

In the quiet aftermath and the dark night outside, doubts creep. Here he is, Chicago Blades' golden boy, wrapped around my small frame, in a living room that's seen more sweat from yoga practices than from moments like these.

I chew on my lip, an old habit when my thoughts spiral. Am I just another notch on his bedpost? No, the way he looks at me, touches me, it speaks of more. However, he doesn’t have a clue about the other life I lead, hidden just a few feet down the hallway.

"Everything okay?" Riley's fingers trace circles on my back.

"Perfect," I murmur, and I mean it. It is perfect, right here, right now. But perfect is a fleeting thing, isn't it? I've learned that the hard way, and the thought nags at the end of my bliss.

Contentment is a tricky beast, though. It teases you with stillness then jolts you awake with the 'what ifs'. As I drift off, nestled in the curve of Riley's protective hold, I push those worries away, choosing instead the comfort of his arms.