Page 250 of Risking the Pucking Defense

“I need you,” I whimper.

“Not as much as I’ve always needed you, baby.”

Slowly he pushes inside me. It’s the most delicious torture I’ve ever experienced.

I gasp when he pushes the last inch inside me, fully seating himself where he belongs.

Tears continue to spill from my eyes, but before he has a chance to move, I reach up and press my palm to his chest, feeling the way his heart pounds against his ribs.

“Hayden?”

“Yeah, baby.”

I swallow thickly as I take a moment to prepare the words I’ve wanted to say to him for so long, but have held back. I didn’t know what I was holding back for. But I do now. I was waiting until there was nothing stopping me from moving forward.

“I love you.”

His breath catches as my words hit him.

Sliding my hand up, I sit, putting us chest to chest, shifting the angle of him inside me, sending pleasure racing through me.

“Hails,” he whispers, his eyes locked on mine. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Hayden Monroe. I love you so much.”

“Fuck. That’s…” He shakes his head, trying and failing to process my words. “I love you too, baby. So, so much. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to agree. His lips find mine, and he lays me back down and sets about starting on our future, right here on my bedroom floor.

KILLER

Unknown: Hey sexy, do you have plans tonight?

Irritation rattles through me as I stare at the message lighting up my screen.

It’s a pretty standard feeling these days, seeing as my life is falling apart beneath my one solid foot.

Overexaggeration? Yeah, possibly. But I figure that while I’m hopping around on one leg and a set of crutches with my future hanging in the balance, I’m allowed to be a little dramatic.

It’s not the first time I’ve been propositioned by some unknown woman, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Fuck knows how they even get my number. If I cared to look, I’d probably find it listed along with some of the others on a bunny site somewhere, but I’d rather not know.

Instead, I continue staring at the message, just another reminder that my life is over.

I can’t play the game I’ve dedicated my life to. Hell, I can’t even walk to my kitchen to get a fucking beer. I’m certainly not going to be able to fuck the way I’d like to, either.

See? Life over.

“We’re gonna order in. Any suggestions?” Rett asks as the elevator takes us toward his floor.

“Whatever, man,” Hayden—aka, my replacement—comments.

Bitterness stirs within me, although not at him. I could never truly be angry with Hayden Monroe; it would be the equivalent of getting mad at a cute Labrador puppy. It’s at the situation.

Deep down, I’m happy for him. He’s getting his chance to shine, playing on the first line with Rett, and I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t killing it. He’s only a few games in, and he’s holding his own, proving that Coach made the right decision in making him Rett’s partner.

The only issue is…where does that leave me?

I know that realistically, I’ve got nine months out, if not more, while I recover. But when that time is up, will the Vipers still want and need me?