Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Was it his home specifically, or would I feel that way anywhere I went with Miles?
The shower trickled to a stop. Miles kissed me, his wet lips pressing against mine. I held him close, our bodies fitting so well together.
“Time for bed?” Miles asked me.
“Way past time. If I don’t get in a bed in about ten seconds I’m going to sleep standing right here.”
“You feel pretty awake to me,” Miles teased, looking down between us.
I wiggled my hips. “This has a mind of its own. And right now I’m going to have to veto it.” I kissed him again. “But my veto power goes away in the mornings.”
“Good. Now let’s dry off and go to bed. I’m down for some cuddles.”
“Yes, that sounds perfect.”
And it was. Our day was full of chaos and trouble and, frankly, bullshit. I forgot all of that once I cuddled up under a thick, warm comforter with a half-naked Miles, his body warm against mine, my arm thrown over him.
Just the two of us, embracing as sleep slowly took us under.
Happy, safe, comfortable.
Perfect.
Chapter Twenty
Traveling Games & Timeline Jumps
MILES
The orange and green of the Tampa Barracudas was painted all over their arena. I sat on the bench directly next to Coach Julian, who was shouting out at the guys on the ice. It was a tough match and we were down by two points, but the star players had just been swapped back into the game, so I had faith we’d see this turn around.
One of those star players was Dylan. He skated across the ice like he’d been born with blades on his feet. He was much more focused and in the game than he’d been the last couple times I watched him play. He successfully managed two stealing swipes and nearly sank the puck but was blocked at the last second by their goalie. I was close enough to hear the chirps, the shit talking, the grunts, the groans, and the cracks as bodies slammed into bodies.
I internally winced when it was Dylan’s body getting shouldered against the boards. I knew he lived for that kind of rough play, but not only was I his athletic trainer, but I was also his fated mate, which meant my protective instincts were doubling down.
Fated mate…
That conversation had happened a few days ago and still swirled around my head, distracting me from worrying about my stalker.
It frustrated me that I didn’t feel the same physical explosion that he did, or the same sensations mentioned in the stories. But there was also no denying that I had very intense feelings for Dyl. They developed slowly, naturally, and were only growing stronger by the day. Every text we sent, every cuddle, every joke, every fuck that left me panting with my legs shaking, everything pushed me further and further down the road that solely led to Dylan.
Dylan smacked the puck over to Gabriel. He took possession, swerved around an opponent, and then passed it back to Dyl. They worked like a singular mind. Gabe must have spotted the guy that was making a beeline toward Dyl. He shouldered him back, blocking him from stealing the puck.
Fuck yeah. Nice. You’ve got this, Dylan.
He was coming up on the goal with incredible speed and precise control. A white number seven outlined in baby blue marked the back of his jersey. He was so fucking attractive in his hockey gear. Made even hotter by the fact that I knew exactly how he looked underneath it.
I pictured his strong thighs flexing and twitching as they pushed him across the ice. The cords of muscle in his shoulders as he guided the puck with his stick. The tension in his calves as he slowed to line up the shot. The curve of his biceps as he channeled all his power into sending the puck past the goalie.
The wide and bright smile underneath his helmet as the puck flew into the goal and against the net.
“Fuck yeah!” Coach Julian shouted as the rest of the bench broke into cheers. One more and we were tied. Only two minutes left of the entire game. We could do it.
“Think we got this?”
The sudden and slightly shrill voice made me jerk to the side. George, the assistant coach, sat almost knee-to-knee with me. There was plenty of space on the bench. I inched over to my left, giving us some breathing room. “Tampa’s defense is good, but I think the guys spot some weaknesses. So yeah, yeah I think we’ve got it.”
“Same. Not a lot of injuries either, tonight. Makes your job much easier, huh?”
“It does,” I said, my attention drifting back to the ice. Eli had the puck now. He was as agile as a fox out there. If I hadn’t known, I would have thought he was a shifter like us. We weren’t totally at an advantage when it came to playing against humans, but we did have some faster reflexes and sharper senses that helped with making split-second decisions. Eli seemed to have all that and more, taking the puck past the red line and toward their goal again.