Page 39 of Slapshot Baby

The door clicks shut.

We stand there, breathing each other's air. His hand is still in my hair. I can feel his heartbeat slamming against my palms through his shirt.

He kissed you. You kissed him back. You're carrying his baby and he doesn't know and you just kissed him like none of that matters.

This is unnervingly familiar.

A picture of my father's easy grin sharpens in my mind.

His charm that feels real until you need him to stay. The way Mom's face still flushes when he touches her cheek, decades of disappointment erased by one casual gesture.

Kai is a professional athlete who had me for one night and didn't call. The fact that there's a reason he didn't call doesn't change the pattern I recognize—charming men who make you feel chosen and then vanish when it gets hard.

I untangle my fingers from his shirt and press my palms flat against his chest. Push.

"I don't want this."

His eyes search my face. "You just kissed me back."

"My body kissed you back. My brain knows better."

"Ava..."

"I already told you, Kai. I don't want you like that.”

Okay, that must have been the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

"Wow." He nods once. "Tell me how you really feel."

"I'm sorry, but I already told you." My voice comes out quieter than I intended. "You just weren't listening."

I grab my bag. "I'm gonna go. You're getting discharged tomorrow. Focus on that." My hands are shaking and I shove them into my pockets so he can't see.

"Ava." His voice is strained.

"Get some rest."

I leave before he can say anything else. The hallway is empty. Mira is nowhere. In the elevator, I press my back against the cold metal wall, my lips swollen and tingling and tasting like him.

Biscuit greets me at the door when I get home, tail going berserk. I drop onto the couch and she climbs into my lap, settling her warm weight against my stomach.

I shower then eat toast I don't taste. I brush my teeth and climb into bed, staring at the ceiling fan rotating above me in the dark.

Kai's mouth is still on my skin. I can feel it. The pressure of his hand in my hair. The heat of his body against mine. The hard length of him pressing into my stomach through his jeans.

My hand slides beneath the sheets.

I don't decide to do it. My body decides for me, the way it's been deciding things without my permission since the night of the gala.

My fingers find the ache between my legs. I'm already wet, still wound up from that kiss.

I close my eyes and let the memory flood in.

Kai's hands fills my imagination. His calloused palms on my hips, pinning me, holding me exactly where he wants me. His voice, rough and low: Scream for me, Ava.

My fingers circle my clit slowly, trying to build it the way he built it. Patient. Deliberate. Like he had all the time in the world to unravel me.

I see his stubble scraping my jaw as he moved to my neck, sucking on that sensitive spot below my ear until my knees buckled. His teeth scraping, tongue soothing.