The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 2)
The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance: Chapter 68

BEING inside the woman I love is the most intense experience of my life.

Hazel looks up at me like I’m everything to her. Finally, she trusts me. Finally, we’re doing this. I know she loves me back, and until she’s ready to tell me, I’ll wait. I’ve had plenty of practice with her.

She bites her lip, frowning with need. “Harder.”

“You sure?” I’m barely holding on, my control fraying at the edges. Around the base of her throat, my fingers flex.

Fucking hell, I love her letting go for me, letting me in. Trusting me to use her like this.

She nods hard, and her fingernails dig into my back. The pinpricks are another layer to this moment—her scent in my nose, the wet slip of her arousal against my cock, the way she looks under me, so pliant and soft and open.

Jesus Christ, I won’t survive this. I’m going to come so hard it’ll kill me. The heavy tug in my groin pulls harder, driving my hips faster, and the sparks start.

Around my cock, Hazel begins to flutter, and my eyes widen. “Again? You’re going to come again?”

Her lip curls and she jerks a nod. “You’re hitting my clit,” she gasps. “And everything inside me.”

Smug male satisfaction has me by the throat. Her perfect round tits bounce as I fuck her up the bed, the pressure inside me boiling over. She clenches, searching my eyes, arching, and her delicate lips part. My pulse pounds in my ears, my balls draw close to my body, and my release slams into me.

My mind splinters into a thousand pieces. I spill into her, burying my head in her neck as I groan her name, coming deep inside her.

My Hazel. Mine. With each thrust, her name beats through my blood. I love her, and she’s mine, and now that I have her, I’m never letting her go.

As our releases fade and we catch our breaths, I settle against her, kissing her forehead, stroking her hair. I’m still inside her, but I’m not ready to pull out yet.

“You okay?” I ask. “I wasn’t too rough?”

She shakes her head. “No. It was perfect.” Her lashes flutter as she looks up at me, sighing with a small, sated smile, and my thoughts still at how beautiful she is.

“If you don’t actually want to stay here until the League Classic—”

“I want to.”

Stay forever, I think.

She brings her hand to my chest, over my hammering heart. “I like it here.”

I wonder if she can feel my heart skip a beat at that.

“Your heart’s beating so fast still,” she whispers.

“It’s so fucking good with you, Hazel.” It’s not sex; it’s bliss.

Her eyes widen, and the moment before she speaks lasts an eternity. “I’m falling for you, too.” She’s so quiet, barely above a whisper as her eyes search mine. “I’m scared.”

My fucking heart.

“I know.” I trail my fingers over her forehead, pushing a lock of her hair back. “I think it’s supposed to be scary, and I’ll be right here with you the whole time.” Our eyes meet. “Okay?”

She nods. “Okay.”

She loves me, and one day? I’m going to marry Hazel Hartley.