Brains Behind the Puck

Midnight Heat

The house is drenched in that post-farm-day quiet, where everything feels still and exhausted, but somehow peaceful at the same time. The tension from earlier—me dropping the whole "I'm skating again" bomb on my family—still lingers in the air, but the house is finally calm. The dishes are done, the lights are dimmed, and I feel like I can breathe again.

Alex is sprawled on the couch like someone hit his off switch. He's tough—God knows he's tough—but I know him better than that now. The exhaustion clings to him, in the way his shoulders sag, the way his eyes droop like he's seconds from passing out. He's running on fumes, and still, he looks like he could take on the world. Stubborn, infuriating man.

Michael and Dan don't last long either. They make some half-hearted excuses and disappear upstairs, leaving the two of us alone. I watch Alex out of the corner of my eye, the way his body slumps further into the couch, and it takes everything in me not to laugh at how determined he is to act like he's fine.

"Well," I say, suppressing a yawn, "I'm hitting the shower." I lean down and brush my lips lightly against his cheek, feeling the prickle of stubble under my lips. "Try not to die before I'm back."

He grins, lazy and teasing, his voice a rough murmur. "No promises, Sunshine."

I roll my eyes but can't fight the smile tugging at my lips. "Goodnight, Alex."

But the way he looks at me? It's not goodnight. It's not even close. There's something deeper there, something that makes my pulse stutter. His eyes flicker, darkening with that intensity I can't ignore, but all he murmurs is, "Night."

Upstairs, the hot water washes away the day, but it does nothing to cool the heat still simmering under my skin. The way Alex's eyes lingered on me at dinner, the unspoken tension that crackled between us despite his exhaustion—it's all I can think about. My body hums, thrumming with that constant, magnetic pull toward him, and no amount of soap and water is going to scrub that away.

I should leave him alone. I should let him sleep. But when I step out of the shower, wrapping the towel around me, my feet are already leading me toward his bedroom. The rational part of my brain—the part that knows how hard today was—tells me to go to bed. But the part of me that's been aching for him all day? That part wins.

I push his door open quietly, peeking inside, and there he is—sprawled out on the bed, looking more wrecked than ever—but still, somehow, unfairly gorgeous. His eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. Peaceful. Maybe I should leave him alone.

But then his eyes flick open, locking on me, and that familiar heat flares, darkening to a simmer that steals the air right out of the room.

"Sunshine," he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there's a darker edge to it, something that makes my heart race. "Couldn't stay away?"

I smirk, slipping inside and padding over to the bed. "You're tired," I whisper, sliding into the sheets next to him, curling into his side. His body is warm, radiating heat like a furnace, and the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear makes me feel safe in a way I'm not ready to admit.

His arm curls around me, pulling me closer, and his voice is a low rumble against my skin. "Exhausted," he admits, but even as he says it, his hand skims down my back, his lips brushing softly against the top of my head. "But not too tired for you."

I laugh softly, lifting my head to meet his eyes. "You should sleep," I whisper, though my own body is betraying me, thrumming with need just from the feel of him next to me. "I didn't come here to wear you out."

His smirk deepens, eyes glinting with something devilish. "Oh? Then what did you come here for?"

I raise an eyebrow, leaning down to press a slow, teasing kiss to his lips. "To cuddle, obviously."

He groans into my mouth, his hands moving, one tangling in my damp hair, the other slipping lower to grip my waist. "Cuddling, huh?" he murmurs against my lips, his voice thick and low. "Doesn't feel like cuddling."

And before I can respond, his mouth crashes into mine, all heat and raw, desperate need. It's not soft—it's hungry, full of the tension that's been building between us all day. My body melts into his, every nerve lighting up as his hands pull me closer, his fingers digging into my skin like he can't get enough.

"Alex," I breathe out, my heart slamming in my chest. He's sore. I know he's sore. I can feel the tightness in his muscles, the way his body is practically vibrating with exhaustion.

But he doesn't care. He kisses me like I'm the only thing keeping him alive, like he's starved for me. And God, I'm starved for him, too. I want him. I want him in a way that makes my head spin, my pulse race, but I know he's hurting. I know his body is begging for rest, even if his mind isn't.

I pull back, panting, resting my forehead against his, and I can feel his chest heaving beneath mine. "You're hurting," I mutter, trailing my fingers down his chest, tracing the tension coiled in his muscles. "Admit it."

He grins, but there's a strain in it. "I'm fine."

I shake my head, pressing soft kisses to his jaw, down his neck, feeling the way his breath hitches under my touch. "Let me take care of you."

His breath catches, his hands tightening on my waist as I shift lower, my lips trailing down his chest, soft and teasing. Every touch, every kiss has him unraveling beneath me, his muscles relaxing under my hands, the tension easing as I work my way down.

"Riley," he groans, his voice rough and hoarse, but he doesn't stop me. He never does.

I glance up at him, meeting his gaze, those stormy blue-green eyes dark with want and need. "Relax," I murmur, my lips brushing over his skin. "Let me."

His hands fist the sheets, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he nods, his body trembling under mine. "Fuck! You know you drive me crazy, right?" His voice is low, rough, but his grin is still there. "But you won't get rid of me that easily."

I trail slow kisses down his chest, letting my lips hover, teasing, as I feel the tension unraveling beneath my fingertips. His breath hitches, and I know I've got him right where I want him. I smile against his skin, my hands and mouth doing the work, pulling him deeper into a haze of pleasure. His body shudders beneath me, his voice breaking into ragged moans, and I know I've got him exactly where I want him. I want him undone, I want him lost in me, because I'm already lost in him.

The way he looks at me, the way his hands grip the sheets so tightly they're practically tearing, it does something to me—something primal, something that makes my entire body burn for him. When he finally breaks, gasping my name like it's the only word he knows, it's like the world falls away, and it's just us.

I crawl back up his body, kissing him softly, tasting him on my lips as he pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me, trembling from the intensity of what just happened. His chest heaves, his muscles still quivering beneath my touch, but when I look into his eyes, they're soft—softer than I've ever seen them.

"Sunshine," he whispers, his voice raw and broken, like I've undone him in ways neither of us are ready to admit. "You're gonna be the death of me."

I smile, curling into him, my head resting on his chest as I listen to the steady thump of his heart. "You're welcome."

He laughs softly, pressing a lingering kiss to my temple, his arms tightening around me like he's afraid to let go. As exhaustion finally pulls him under, his body shifts, turning to the side, and he pulls me with him, spooning me from behind. His chest presses against my back, his arms tightening around my waist, holding me close. The warmth of his body surrounds me, and I can feel his steady breath against the back of my neck.

For a long moment, we just lie there, tangled together, his body wrapped around mine, his presence a steady, grounding force. And in his arms, I feel safe. I feel home.

"Night, Sunshine," he murmurs, his voice soft and drowsy.

"Night, Alex," I whisper, my eyes drifting shut as I settle against him.

And as I fall asleep, with his arms wrapped around me, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a peaceful haze, I realize something. This—him, us—feels like more than just heat, more than just desire. It feels like everything I didn't know I needed. And for the first time in a long time, I'm not scared of what comes next.

In his arms, I'm exactly where I belong.