I loved him. Every inch of him. It was the purest, best feeling I’d ever experienced. And it was the worst. A terrifying free fall without a parachute.

The ground was rushing up at me now, the inevitable settling in with bone-numbing certainty. Someone once told me that as soon as your life becomes perfect, fate will find a way to mess it up. Fate had come calling, over and over again; that bitch had knocked my feet out from under me.

Another guttural sob tore from me, and I doubled over, wrapping my arms around my middle in an attempt to hold in the pain.

A warm hand grasped my shoulder, and I startled, blinking up to find Lucian hovering over me.

“Em . . .” His voice broke on my name as he looked me over. “Baby.”

I wrenched away from him, horrified that he’d found me like this, not wanting him to see. But it was too late. He crawled into bed and gathered me close. “Em . . . don’t—”

I covered my face with my hands.

Gently, he eased my wrists down. “Emma. Honey . . .”

“No.” I didn’t know what I was saying. Only that I wanted to hide.

“Yes. Look at me, Emma.”

He ducked his head, met my gaze with his sorrowful one.

My lip trembled. “I just . . . I just . . .” I looked away, tears blinding me.

But he knew. Of course he knew. Lucian knew me on a level that no one else had managed to get to.

Holding my hands in his, he bent down and kissed me. I resisted for a breath, then gave in, surging up to meet him. His lips moved over mine, giving and comforting. He kissed me again. And again. Like penance. Like absolution.

One hand found its way to the back of my neck, holding me there. Gentling me. I let him take over, take me, slowly working the clothes off my aching body, stroking my raw skin with easy touches, as though he were mapping each curve to store in his memory.

He kissed me like it was his last taste and his first. And when he eventually pushed inside me, we both sighed, my lashes fluttering closed so I could just feel.

He made love to me in the cool, dim room, worshipping me with his body, his hands, his mouth, giving me everything. And when I couldn’t take any more, when I begged for release, he eased me into it with quiet kisses, slow thrusts.

And he broke my heart all over again. Because I’d never been loved like this. Never been touched like I was both utterly precious and completely necessary.

I held him while he came in deep shudders that rolled through him. Lucian hugged me close, his breath unsteady and warm upon my skin. For a long moment, neither of us spoke, but when he finally did, it came out in a ragged whisper against my cheek.

“I’m sorry, Em. I’m so sorry.”

He was sorry. But he wouldn’t change his course. And now, neither could I.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Lucian

Everyone was pissed at me.

Mamie wouldn’t look me in the eye. A few days after I’d told her I was going back to hockey, she’d taken Tina and Sal and gone to Paris for some “rest” and shopping.

Anton, of all people, had shaken his head and muttered about idiots. We hadn’t spoken in weeks.

And now Brommy. He skated at my side, his jaw ticcing, eyes hard and focused. Ordinarily, he’d be cracking jokes, gliding around in circles until Rickman told him to get his fucking act together.

When I’d joined the team for an early practice session during training camp, you could have heard a pin drop for all the shock in the room. But most of the guys had quickly rallied, welcoming me back with open arms. I knew I was there only on a tentative basis. We’d play it by ear as my agent hashed out things with management.

Technically, I had one year left on my contract. There was a bunch of legal rambling, but the short of it was they could pick me up or drop me. I didn’t think about that bit. I was on the ice again, suited up and feeling good. Physically, at least.

I glanced over at a sulking Brommy. “Just say whatever it is you’re going to say, and get it over with.”

Brommy glared at me. “All right. This is stupid. Fucking moronic. Shit, Oz, I thought you knew better.”

Prickling heat crawled up my throat. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Like ass you do.” He shot ahead, traded a few slap shots with Linz, then met Hap at the goal to talk shit with him. We waited for Dilly, our offensive coach, and his assistants to call drills.

Grimly, I called for a puck, and an assistant tossed one over. Ignoring the rest of the field, I did my own thing, working through various patterns. But all too soon, Brommy was at my side again.