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Hunter came apart at the seams just by pleasing me. Hearing my reaction to his touch. Feeling my pussy squeeze his fingers as I finished myself on his digits.

He claimed me as he proved he could, in fact, fall apart just by giving me pleasure.

“How was that for a workplace fantasy?” I asked through heavy pants.

“Honestly?” His forehead found mine as he stayed sheathed inside of me. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to watch a game up here again and not think of this moment.”

“Good. I want you so obsessed with me that everywhere you go, you think of me.”

“Easy. You haven’t left my mind since I first met you, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”

The once frantic moment between us had shifted. We were each coming down from our orgasms and the lust for each other had shifted into something … sweeter. If I had to put my finger on it, it felt like this would be one of those moments where we’d share how much we’d fallen for one another. Because if I hadn’t left his mind since we first met, wasn’t that a sign of love?

I wasn’t a professional in the love department in the slightest, but in the deepest parts of me those words were begging to come out. Hunter had been the only thing on my mind since he walked into my work that night and asked me to dance for him. I think from the first time I kissed him, I knew I could love this man. He broke through my walls and gave me a new outlook on life. Hunter single-handedly showed me what the definition of love meant. What it felt like to love and to be loved by someone.

Assuming he did love me.

The only love I’d ever grown to know was through my best friends. But that smitten feeling Hunter gave me when I woke up every morning, and fell asleep next to him, felt a hell of a lot like love.

But even after I just had my world rocked, I still couldn’t get myself to be the first to say those three words.

Once upon a time, Friday nights were as lonely as they came. But today, I couldn’t think of a better start to the weekend even if I tried.

After coming home from the arena, eating our weight in Chinese takeout, and Andi sitting across from me with her feet in my lap as she moaned every time I pressed into the arch of her foot, felt as if I was living another life. A life I hadn’t imagined for myself since I was practically a kid, but one I was enjoying more than I ever thought possible.

“You know, being so involved in the world of hockey these days kind of makes me think about you and what you looked like playing down on the ice instead of dressed in a suit watching from afar.” Andi broke our comfortable silence, clearly lost in her own thoughts.

“You know, you could find that kind of stuff if you just typed my name into the search browser on the internet,” I teased, trading the hard pressure into her arch for a tickle.

Like a ninja, she pulled her foot from my grasp and swiped her phone from the coffee table.

“Oh, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that. Should I look them up and cast them to the TV so we can watch them together?” Her eyebrows shot up, typing frantically into her phone.

“Actually, I can do you one better.” Taking her phone, I set it aside and stood up, kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.” I winked.

My mind went to the stack of old tapes I had boxed up in my closet from back in my playing days. Although I hadn’t actually touched them in years. I used to watch them once after they were recorded just to put them back in their box. Now, the only reason I held onto them was for reminiscing purposes.

With Andi’s mention of wanting to see me play, it felt like a good enough time to open up the old capsule. If there was one person who I wanted to share this part of me with, it was her. I’d come a long way, healing more and more every day, realizing that this was my path for a reason. Playing professionally for four years was a hell of a lot longer than most guys in this sport had the opportunity to play. Most ended their careers in college, whereas I was blessed with a contract to keep playing, win a cup, and now take over the building of a legacy that—even if I didn’t want it in my past—I was doing a damn good job at.

After retrieving the box of old tapes, I met Andi back in the living room with a cheesier-than-necessary grin plastered across my face.

“That box looks like it’s about to disintegrate. What the hell is in there?” She crinkled her nose.

Taking the top off, I exposed each videotape filed perfectly in order with a white strip of tape on each one, labeling what the video was of and the date in which it was recorded.

“Wow, don’t age yourself or anything.”

Andi’s eyes widened as she watched my fingers slowly roam over each one.

“My mom is a little old school. She used to love sitting on the glass to record my games or practices on her camcorder. She had access to anywhere in the arena, so if she found the perfect view where she could stay out of the way from others, she’d record little clips of me playing.” A soft smile hit my lips as I made a mental note that I should probably call my mother soon to catch up. The memory of old times filled me with warmth and comfort.

A time when my dad was alive and my only goal in life was to be the best damn hockey player in existence. When my mom was happy, spending every waking moment living, breathing, and talking hockey.

Times were so simple back then. But a lot like then, these days, I still carried the weight of the team on my back, only in a completely different way.

“That’s actually really sweet. I don’t have anything like this from when I was younger.”

Before Andi could get lost in her head and reflective about her less-than-perfect upbringing, I brought the attention back to why I dug up these old tapes in the first place. We were living on such a high tonight, and I didn’t want her smile to fade away—even if that meant playing a random video from a game where I couldn’t tell you if I performed to my best ability or not.