Page 83 of Instigator

I cough out a laugh. “I’m glad you like it.”

Aidan strokes the toy over his cock. “I like you.”

My heart melts, even as the tension inside me coils tighter. “I⁠—”

“I know,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

The distance between us stretches farther than ever, but I’ve never felt closer to him. The miles don’t matter when we have the kind of connection we share.

And as I work the dildo inside me, I let myself imagine that he’s here beside me. His scent on the sheets surrounds me in a comforting embrace. A piece of him is with me even while he’s on the other side of the continent.

“Ceci.” My name is a lust-drunk groan on his lips. He’s working his cock faster, fucking into the silicone pussy. “I need you.”

“Show me.”

He grunts, then pulls the toy off his cock and tosses it aside. His hand wraps around his length, and all it takes is two strokes, maybe three, before he’s coming, his release splashing onto his abs in thick white spurts. Aidan milks his cock until he’s sated, and then he sags against the mattress, staring at me through heavy eyelids.

It doesn’t take much longer for me to tip over the edge either. As the pleasure hits and I clench around the silicone buried deep inside me, I gaze back at him, at the pure want on his face.

The ecstasy eventually fades, and I pull out the toy, switch it off, and toss it to the side. Then I curl up with his throw blanket, pulling my laptop closer.

“I miss you,” I admit.

It doesn’t make me less than for admitting it. For volunteering it.

Aidan’s face falls, and his mouth twists into a frown. “I miss you too.”

“Only a few more days.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promises.

“Score some goals for me?” I tease, trying to shake the vulnerability clinging to my heart like a second skin.

“Just for you.” He yawns. “I need to go get cleaned up.”

“Of course. Me too.”

I don’t want to get up, though. Not if it means our time together tonight is over.

“I’ll text you in the morning,” Aidan says. “Not too early. Probably closer to lunchtime for you.”

My tired smile is tremulous. “Sounds good.”

His face softens. “Have a good night, Ceci. Sweet dreams.”

Little does he know, I’ll be dreaming of him.

thirty-two

. . .

Aidan

The roar of the crowd should be enough to keep my head in the game.

Normally, it is.

Most days, the second my skates touch the ice, everything else disappears. The noise, the pressure, the distractions—they all fade until there’s nothing left except the puck, my teammates, and the next shift.