Page 115 of Pucking Forbidden

After we finish eating, Julian removes the tables. He walks back to the bench and returns with two pairs of skates.

We lace them up in the dark booth and step out onto the ice, then skate around the perimeter of the empty rink. Julian skates backward, his powerful legs moving with a grace that always fascinates me, his large hands holding mine as he pulls me along. We race down the neutral zone, and every few minutes, he pulls me into his chest for a slow, lingering kiss that tastes like sweet cider and cold ice.

At one point, I slow down, looking up at the cavernous, dark ceiling above us.

“Thank you, Julian,” I murmur, my voice carrying into the rafters. “Seriously. Thank you for today. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.”

Julian reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

“That’s the entire point, Hadley,” he whispers, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “You don't have to worry about everything when you’re with me. I’ve got you. I’m always going to have you.”

As I look up into his face, the absolute certainty of his voice hits my system like an electric current. In the quiet, amber-lit stadium, I can finally admit the truth to myself without any fear. Without any reservations.

I have fallen for him. Hard.

My only wish, the only tiny, dark cloud hanging over the beautiful expanse of my heart, is that things with my father were simpler. I wish I could tell Julian I love him without the suffocating terror of my family’s disapproval hanging over our heads like an executioner’s axe. I wish choosing to be happy wasn’t such an act of defiance.

By the time we get back to Carson’s apartment late that night, the residual heat of the day has transformed into a desperate magnetic pull that neither of us can fight. The lingering adrenaline from the skydiving, the frozen magic of the empty hockey rink, and the heavy weight of a week’s worth of unspoken tension all collide the moment we cross the threshold.

The second the heavy door clicks shut behind us, the world outside ceases to exist. Julian doesn't even let me reach for the light switch. His hands are in my hair, his long, thick fingers tangling deep into the strands as he tilts my face up. His mouth locks onto mine with a possessive hunger that makes me gasp against his lips. The scent of the cold winter air still clings to his heavy Carhartt jacket, contrasting sharply with the scalding heat of his tongue as he claims my mouth.

Before I can even process what he’s doing, he picks me up, hoisting my weight against the solid wood of the door. The sudden shift in gravity makes my head spin. I wrap my legs around his waist, my inner thighs gripping his hips while my fingers claw through the thick canvas of his jacket, seeking the dense muscles of his back beneath. He carries me down the short, shadowed hallway without breaking the kiss. His mouth trades frantic, deep strokes with mine. Stumbling into the pitch-black bedroom, I hit the edge of the mattress and drag Julian down to the bed with me in a clumsy collision of limbs.

We tangle together on the mattress, our clothes discarded in a desperate rush. Every touch of his bare skin against mine burns away the cold residue of our week apart. My hands map the familiar, rugged topography of his torso…the thick ridges of his ribs, the definition of his abs, and the solid wall of his chest.

The moment Julian moves over me, his massive frame pinning me into the soft sheets, the frantic urgency dissolves. The shift is so sudden it steals the breath from my lungs. Every movement of his body becomes deliberate. He rests his full weight over me, a crushing but deeply comforting pressure, while bracing his forearms beside my head. In the dim moonlight filtering through the window blinds, I can see the sharp angles of his jawline. He’s so big that his shoulders block out the rest of the room.

Running his hands down my sides, he stops at my thighs. I can feel every press of his fingers. He grips my legs and pushes them open. Cool air brushes along my pussy, making me sigh. Then, Julian drags a finger down my folds. I release a small cry.

“Fuck, Hadley,” he growls. “You’re already so wet.”

He works his fingers against me, teasing my entrance. At the same time, his thumb finds my clit and presses against it. I nearly fly off the bed, but his massive body anchors me down. Wrapping his lips around one of my nipples, he starts to suck.

“Julian.” I moan, arching my back.

“I need to be inside you,” he snarls against my breast. Pushing himself up, he kneels between my legs, taking his dick in his hand.

He presses his cock against my folds, making me hiss. When he enters me, it isn't with the wild urgency of the times we’ve been together before. He moves inside me with a slow, driving rhythm, taking his time and sliding deep against my core. Julian stretches me until it borders on an agonizing ache. The friction of his calloused hands sliding down the sensitive skin of my ribs makes me arch into him.

His mouth locks back onto mine, capturing my breathless gasps and swallowing them whole. He slides his hands down to my wrists, pinning them against the pillows. It’s an aggressive tenderness that makes my entire system shudder. The sheer intensity of it hits my chest so hard it physically hurts. A single, hot tear escapes the corner of my eye, tracking slowly down my temple and wetting the tangled strands of my hair.

Julian freezes.

The slow, rhythmic motion of his hips stops. His chest heaves against mine, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. In the pale moonlight, his dark eyes search my face, wide with a sudden panic, his eyebrows drawing together in immediate concern.

He leans down, his warm lips kissing the damp trail of the tear away from my skin. His stubble grazes my cheek. His breath is ragged and hot against my ear, sending shivers pooling straight into my stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the words vibrating into my collarbone. His voice cracks, heavy with an emotion that makes my own throat tighten. “I’m so sorry for hurting you, Hadley. I’m sorry I kept you in the dark. I never want to see you cry because of me ever again.”

I shake my head against the pillow, my fingers slipping free from his grip so I can tangle them into the thick, damp hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him back down toward me. I want him closer. I need him closer until there is no space left between us.

“No more secrets?” I breathe.

“I promise you, no more secrets,” he vows. He presses his forehead against mine, his gaze unblinking. “I am staying right here. I am staying with you. I told your dad, and I’m telling you. There is no contract in the world that matters more than this. No amount of money.”

“And the rest of it?” I whisper, the harsh reality of our situation creeping into the edges of my mind. I think of my father’s venomous threats, my grandfather’s authority as his coach, and the legal, complicated minefield of our lives. “Mrs. Clay? My Grandpa?”

Julian doesn't answer with words. He drives deep into me one more time, a low, animalistic groan tearing from the very bottom of his chest. He buries his face into the crook of my neck, his arms wrapping around my shoulders like an iron vice, pulling me so tightly against him that my breasts compress against his hard chest, leaving not a single millimeter of air between our bodies. He shudders, the muscles in his back bunching and locking up under my fingertips as the dam finally breaks. He pours every single ounce of love, regret, and devotion he has deep inside me.