Chapter 5

The sound of skates cutting through ice echoes throughout the arena as I weave my way through a sea of hockey players, sweat dripping from my brow. The crisp wet air fills my lungs as I chase the puck, feeling the exhilaration that comes with every practice.

"Hey, Weston!" Amir calls out, stopping me in my tracks. He and Thiago skate over to me, grinning mischievously. "We"ve got a proposition for you."

"Alright, let"s hear it," I say, catching my breath and leaning on my stick.

"Thiago"s cousin has this sweet ski resort up in the mountains," Amir explains. "He"s offered us a free weekend stay, and we thought you might want to tag along."

"Sounds amazing, guys," I admit, imagining the stunning views and fresh powder. "But I"ve actually got something else planned this weekend."

"Really?" Thiago raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What kind of "little vacation" could possibly beat a weekend at a ski resort?"

"Sorry, not spilling my secrets," I tease, giving them a sly smile. Their curiosity is intense, but I can"t bring myself to share the details of my upcoming plans with Presley. The very woman who"s been haunting my thoughts ever since our unexpected reunion.

"Fine, keep your little mystery," Amir says with a chuckle, giving me a friendly shove. "But you better have some great stories when you get back."

As the week goes by, I throw myself into the world of hockey, using the grueling workouts, adrenaline-fueled games, and intense practices as a distraction from the growing anticipation of seeing Presley again. Every time her image flashes through my mind, I admire how she"s changed since that fateful night we spent together.

She"s no longer the fragile, waifish girl I once met. Instead, she"s transformed into a stunning, strong woman who seems to beam with newfound confidence. And as much as I try to resist, I'm drawn to her all over again, my yearning for her burning hotter than ever before.

But under this unexpected attraction, there"s also a quiet longing, a yearning for something deeper than just being physical. My heart aches at the thought of our shared time and the desperate search for intimacy that made us meet in the first place.

The thought that this "little vacation" might be the key to unlocking the true potential of our relationship is exciting but scary at the same time.

The moment she sits in my car, I can sense a calmness from just being close to her. The hum of the car engine creates a cocoon of privacy in our little world. We exchange furtive glances, the eagerness of our trip making every stolen touch feel electric.

"Weston," Presley whispers, leaning closer as if to share a secret. "I never really told you what happened before we met that night in Ann Arbor."

Her eyes search mine, and I can see the vulnerability there – the lingering pain from her past. "You don"t have to tell me if you"re not ready," I gently assure her, my hand instinctively reaching for hers.

"No, I want to," she says, looking away and then back to me. "I had just gone through a devastating breakup with my boyfriend of six months. Our relationship was toxic, and it took a toll on me, physically and emotionally. That"s why I was so thin back then... I lost so much weight from the stress."

As she speaks, the puzzle pieces start to slide into place, and I'm understanding the full extent of her transformation. She's even more irresistible than before, and my heart swells with pride for her strength and resilience.

She pauses briefly before continuing, her voice grows quieter, more strained. "He was manipulative, controlling... I felt like a mere shadow of myself by the end. The day I decided to leave him was one of the toughest days of my life, but it was also the day I reclaimed my sanity."

Her eyes dart away from mine, aiming at some uninteresting point in the room as if the memories she"s dredging up have become too heavy to hold. "I ended things and left him. That night, Ziggy, my best friend, and I decided to go out. We needed a distraction, something to take my mind off him."

She chuckles dryly, her lips curving up into a bitter smile. "There we were, at that swanky hotel bar, trying to drown our sorrows in expensive whiskey and cheap laughs. If you remember, it was snowing hard that night. I wasn't going to be able to make it to my house that's up a mountain. So, I rented a room for the night, and Ziggy had just left to go home when you showed up."

Presley"s hands tense around my own, her knuckles turning white from the force of her grip. "And then I met you," she admits quietly.

"Thank you for trusting me with this, Presley," I murmur, squeezing her hand gently. "You"re an incredible woman, and I"m grateful for every moment we"ve shared."

A smile tugs at the corners of her lips. This newfound connection feels like a promise to maybe adopt the possibility of something real.

"Hey, Weston," Presley says, breaking the comfortable silence. "I"ve been curious about something. Tell me more about Holidates – you know, that unique dating service you"re involved with?"

"Ah, Holidates," I chuckle, rubbing my neck sheepishly. "It"s an interesting venture, for sure. My mom co-owns it, and while it"s not my main career, my brothers and I dabble in it part-time. Well, all except Cole, since he recently found a girlfriend."

"Oh, so what do you do full time for work then?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

"I actually play for the Michigan Vikings."

"Really, you play hockey? That sounds incredible," Presley remarks.

The closer the map shows that we're getting to Presley"s parents' house, the more her knee bounces nervously. It"s almost midnight, and although her mother has assured her that we won"t meet her parents until morning, I can tell she"s still anxious.

"Hey," I say softly, placing my large, warm palm on her trembling knee. She looks up at me, startled but grateful for the contact. The gentle weight of my hand seems to soothe her nerves, and her bouncing knee comes to a halt.

"Thanks, Weston," she whispers, offering me a shy smile.

"Anytime, Presley," I reply, giving her knee an encouraging squeeze. As we drive through the night, a companionable silence envelops us.

We finally arrive at Presley"s childhood home, the moonlight shining over the quaint house. Carefully, we step out of the vehicle, not wanting to disturb her sleeping parents.

"Welcome to my family home," she whispers as she unlocks the front door.

"Thanks for having me, Presley," I reply just as quietly, following her inside and taking in my surroundings.

The walls are adorned with family photos and artwork, showcasing the love and bond shared between the people who have grown up here. The furniture is worn but well-cared for, each piece holding its own story. The house has a distinct, comforting smell of a home-cooked dinner from a few hours ago lingering in the air, leaving a cozy and inviting feeling.

"Let me show you around," she says, leading me through the living room and into the kitchen. I admire the family photos scattered throughout the space, offering glimpses into Presley"s life before our paths crossed.

"Your family looks really lovely," I comment, my gaze lingering on a photo of young Presley grinning with her parents. She told me earlier that she is an only child. She smiles fondly at the memory, her eyes lighting up with happiness.

"Thank you, Weston."

We continue our quiet tour of the house, Presley pointing out various rooms and sharing tidbits about her upbringing. As we reach the guest room where I"ll be staying, she turns to face me, her eyes searching mine with a depth of sincerity that leaves me breathless.

"Weston, I want you to know how truly grateful I am that you"re here with me. You didn"t have to do this, but it means everything to me that you did." Her voice is heavy with emotion.

"It"s my pleasure. I"m here because I want to be." My words are heartfelt.

"Thank you," she murmurs, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

My hands reach out, pulling her close and capturing her lips. Tenderly at first, our kiss quickly turns passionate, fueled by weeks of suppressed need. Our bodies mold together perfectly, fitting like two puzzle pieces as we explore each other"s mouths.

Presley"s fingers tangle in my hair as she presses herself against me, deepening our kiss even further. I moan into her mouth, unable to contain the heat that is building. She pulls away, her chest heaving with exertion as she looks up at me with a hungry expression.

"Weston," she gasps, before crashing her lips back onto mine with renewed fervor.

Our hands roam freely over each other"s bodies, exploring every inch and igniting sparks of pleasure. I feel myself growing harder with each touch of Presley"s hands on my skin, and I know that she can feel it too by the way she grinds against me.

Breaking away from our heated kiss, Presley pulls back and takes a step away from me. Her chest rises and falls as she tries to catch her breath.

"God, you"re beautiful," I whisper.

"Good night, Weston," she whispers back. With a final, lingering look, she turns and heads to her own bedroom for the night, leaving me with my thoughts as I settle into the guest room.

"Good night, Presley.