Page 248 of Faking the Goal

"Ken-chan..." I whimper.

He says something in Japanese, low and dark, and I don't know the words but I know exactly what they mean. My whole body is tensed up, vibrating, my toes curling into the upholstery, and I lock eyes with him as I finally come, even harder than before. I don't scream this time—I just go silent, mouth open in a perfect O, and he laughs, soft and triumphant.

When I can finally breathe again, he doesn't let go. He keeps his fingers inside me, moving slow, gentle, lazy now, but not letting me come down too fast. I'm shaking, boneless, every muscle in my body exhausted and limp, but I don't want him to stop.

He leans down and kisses my forehead, then my cheek, then the corner of my mouth, like he's trying to memorize the taste of me. "You're amazing, Trouble," he says, and it's so earnest, so completely unguarded, that I almost start crying.

I want to say something back, something smart or even remotely coherent, but apparently he's short-circuited every functioning part of my brain. By the time I finally collapse against him, utterly spent, I'm pretty sure language has abandoned me altogether.

Then my gaze drops on the unmistakable bulge straining against his sweats, and my mouth goes dry. I swallow and force my eyes back to his face. "So... now that you've helped me with my little dilemma, why don't I return the favor?"

His gaze follows mine before returning to my face, and something hot flashes through his expression despite the almost amused curve of his mouth.

"Don't worry about me." He brushes his thumb over my cheek. "Tonight was about you."

"But that seems kind of unfair."

Which is only half the truth.

The other half is considerably less noble and has everything to do with the fact that I want to taste him. Badly.

He studies me for another second, as if he can see straight through my attempt to disguise lust as generosity.

"Trust me, Trouble." His mouth curves as he pulls me closer. "I've been more than compensated tonight."

It takes my thoroughly scrambled brain a second to understand what he means.

Then I catch the look in his eyes.

Heat floods my face all over again.

Of course. Apparently hearing me completely lose my mind because of him is enough to satisfy that smug bastard for one night.

Before I can decide whether to be embarrassed or ridiculously turned on by that, he gathers me against him and tucks my head beneath his chin. The shift from all that barely restrained hunger to this—his arms wrapped securely around me, his lips brushing once against my hair—should give me emotional whiplash.

Instead, I melt into him.

"Thank you," I mumble, the words coming out sluggish and breathless. I don't even have the energy to feel embarrassed anymore. "That was... probably the best orgasm I've ever had." I let out a sleepy sigh, already sinking into him. "I think I can actually sleep now."

A soft laugh escapes him, low and warm, like he'd been waiting for me to admit it.

His breath tickles my ear, and I feel a shiver that has nothing to do with cold. "Happy to be of service." He pulls me tighter. "Good night, Trouble."

"Good night, Ken-chan." I hum sleepily.

CHAPTER 32

TAYLOR

The club is louder than I remember.

Or maybe I've just gotten too used to quiet nights at the hockey house, curled up beside Kentaro with a book while he studies or watches game footage.

And, well, things between us have been a little different lately.

Ever since Kentaro and I crossed that line—you know, the one involving the life-changing orgasm that finally knocked me the fuck out—things between us have gotten a whole lot bolder.

Mostly because it didn't exactly stop at one time.