Page 68 of Trade It All

I collapse against him as the release hits, my body vibrating in a silent, explosive sob. He catches my weight, his arms wrapping around me like a shield, his breath hot against my neck as he finishes inside me, his entire frame shuddering with the force of it.

"I've got you," he whispers, his voice thick with a protective, doting heat. "You're okay. I've got you."

Nashville doesn’t feel like Chicago. The air hits different the second we step out—warmer, softer, carrying something I can’t quite name but feel settle under my skin anyway. It doesn’t have that sharp edge I’m used to, the bite that keeps everything tight and moving. This feels… looser. Louder in a quieter way. Like the city is always humming, even when no one’s speaking. I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder as we move through the hotel lobby, the noise of the guys blending into the background as my brain starts doing what it always does when we travel—organizing, sorting, lining up everything I need to get done before the night even starts.

Footage.So much of it.

My fingers twitch slightly, already wanting my laptop, already running through clips in my head. Luka and Grady’s disaster of a dance. Jasper losing it at the boards. Jake pretending he wasn’t encouraging them when he absolutely was. I can see the edits before I even sit down, the cuts, the timing, the captions that are going to make it hit just right. It should ground me. Usually it does. But today—there’s something else sitting just under it. Something quieter. I couldn’t stop stealing glances of him the whole plane ride. Just like he said I would. And…just like he said I would, I couldn’t stop thinking about him between my legs. He smirked a couple times when he saw me trying to get comfortable in my seat after remembering how good he felt.

He’s behind me now. Not close enough for anyone to notice. Not far enough for me to forget. I don’t look. I don’t need to. I just…know. Dean stays just enough behind me to keep it from being obvious, but I feel him there anyway. I always do now. It’s subtle, the way he moves, the way he places himself in the same space without making it something anyone else would question.

The elevator doors open, and we step inside, the space closing in around the four of us. Jake leans back against the wall like he owns it, Luka still half buried in his phone, and I find myself staring at the numbers above the door instead of anywhere else.

Because if I look—I’ll find him. And if I find him—I won’t stop at just looking.

“Walkthrough, then food?” Jake asks, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“Always food,” Luka answers, not even glancing up.

I smile to myself, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder, already running through everything I need to get done once I’m back in my room. Dean’s shoulder brushes mine. Barely there. Just enough to make my breath catch before I can stop it. I don’t move. I don’t look. But everything in me shifts toward it anyway. The elevator dings too soon. The doors slide open, and the moment breaks, the guys stepping out like nothing happened, like this is just another stop, another floor, another game.

I glance down at my key card as I walk, reading the number—and then I slow. Just slightly. My door. And right next to it—Dean’s. A small smile pulls at my lips before I can stop it, something warm and quiet settling into my chest.

Of course. Of course he made sure of that. I don’t say anything. Don’t make a big deal out of it. But when I slide my key into the door and glance back over my shoulder—he’s already watching me.

And the look in his eyes says he planned it that way.

Chapter 30

Dean

Idon’twakeupright away. Not fully. It’s slow, the kind of waking that doesn’t come with tension or instinct or the immediate need to move. It comes with warmth. With weight. With something soft pressed into me that my body recognizes before my mind catches up.

Her. She’s tucked into me like she belongs there, one leg draped over mine, her face half buried against my chest, her hand curled loosely against my ribs like she fell asleep holding on and never let go.

I don’t move. I don’t want to break it. Because this—this right here—is the best part of my day, and it hasn’t even started yet.

My hand slides slowly along her back, fingers tracing the same path I’ve memorized over the last two nights, not because I need to learn it, but because I can’t seem to stop touching her once I start. She shifts slightly in her sleep, pressing closer withoutwaking, like her body finds mine even when she’s not thinking about it. And that—that does something to me every damn time.

The last two nights have been like this. Sneaking around like we’re getting away with something. She waits until the hallway goes quiet, until the guys are in their rooms and the noise settles into nothing, and then she shows up at my door like she was always meant to be there. No hesitation. No second guessing.

Just her. And I let her in every time like it’s the easiest decision I’ve ever made. I take my time with her. Not rushed. Not careless. I learn her.

Every reaction. Every shift in her breathing. Every place she softens or tightens or leans into me like she trusts me to take her there and bring her back again. I don’t miss a single second of it, don’t skip over anything, don’t treat it like something I’m trying to get through. I make sure she feels it. Every part of it. Because she deserves that.

After—we don’t just fall asleep. That’s not what this is. We stay up. Talk. About everything and nothing at the same time, her head resting against my shoulder, my fingers tracing patterns along her skin while she tells me things she doesn’t say out loud during the day. Things she holds back when the world is watching.

And I listen. Not because I have to. Because I want to. Because I’d sit there all night if that’s what it took to hear every piece of her she’s willing to give me.

Then she falls asleep. And I hold her. All night. Not letting go. Not shifting away. Not once. I didn’t know how much I needed this until I had it. Didn’t realize how much something like this could settle me in a way nothing else ever has.

We lost last night. I should be pissed. I should be replaying every missed opportunity, every bad call, every second we let slip through our fingers on home ice in someone else’s arena. That’s who I am. That’s what I do. But right now—wrapped around her like this—I can’t find it. The anger’s there somewhere. I know it is. Waiting for me the second I step out of this room and back into my role, back into the place where I don’t get to feel anything but control and expectation.

But here? With her? It doesn’t reach me. My chin dips slightly, resting against the top of her head as I let out a slow breath, my hand flattening against her back, holding her closer without waking her. And somewhere in the quiet of this moment—it hits me. Not loud. Not sudden. Just…certain.

I’m in love with her. Not something I question. Not something I need to sit with and figure out. It’s already there, settled deep in my chest like it’s been building for longer than I realized and I’m just now catching up to it. The way I think about her. The way I need her close. The way everything in me shifts thesecond she walks into a room. That’s not temporary. That’s not something I walk away from. She asked me to be careful with her heart.

The thought tightens something in my chest, heavier now, more real. And I will be. I’ll guard it like it’s mine to protect. But the truth sitting under that—the part I don’t say out loud—is that mine’s already gone. Already wrapped up in her in a way I don’t know how to undo even if I wanted to. And I don’t. Because the idea of losing this… losing her… that’s the only thing that actually feels like it could break me.