Iced Out (Leighton U #1)(98)

“We did it.” My hand wraps around the back of his neck, and I pull his sweat-soaked forehead against mine. “We actually fucking did it.”

He nods, his nose bumping mine when he does. “You were…amazing, Quinn.”

I hug him more, tighter and closer than I have in weeks. And it’s the first time in those weeks I’ve actually felt…whole.

What the fuck is that except—

“I love you too,” I say, bringing my mouth to his ear. “I love you so fucking much.”

He pulls back, dark brown eyes lighting up in ways I haven’t seen in far too long. And I’ve missed it more than I realized.

“You’re sure it’s not the high of victory talking?”

“After all the shit you pulled?” I laugh. “Absolutely not. It’s all me, baby.”

His palm cups the side of my face as he examines my face like a blind man seeing for the first time. Slowly and thoroughly, memorizing every inch. And despite the pandemonium happening around us, like I’m the only thing that exists.

A flash of his tongue peeks out at the corner of his lips, and his eyes take on a sorrowful sheen. “I know you’re probably sick of hearing me say I’m so sorry, but—”

“You’re right. I am.” My fingers wrap around his pads and I give him a wicked grin. “So you better make this last one worth it.”

The playfulness in my tone must be enough to make him relax and even get a small smile forming. “Just know…it’ll be a long time before I ever forgive myself for—”

I shake my head and cut him off again, this time by crushing my mouth to his.

My tongue spears between his lips, my arms wrap around his neck, and I kiss him the way I’ve never kissed him before: freely and out in the open, where the entire fucking world can see.

And if possible, the roar of the crowd gets even louder.

Then again, it’s not every day you see two hockey players making out on the ice after winning the Frozen Four.

Breaking for some air, I rest my forehead against his again, needing some part of my body touching his at all times. Grounding me in a moment seemingly too perfect to possibly be real.

“Did you just kiss me on national television?” he whispers against my lips.

I nod. “You were still trying to apologize. I had to shut you up.”

And then I kiss him again.

“Ah, jeez! Get a room, you two!” Rossi shouts, causing the two of us to break apart.

“Yeah, but preferably at Quinton’s,” Camden cuts in. I look up in time to see Rossi give him a what the fuck look, and Cam gestures toward me, sheepishly adding, “What? He’s a noisy fucker. Quite literally, and I don’t feel like having to sleep with earplugs tonight.”

Oakley chuckles, pressing a kiss behind my ear. “Mmm, just the way I like it.”

“Good to know.” I grin, a different kind of adrenaline heating my blood. “Because celebrations are in order, and once we’re back to campus, I know exactly how we can kick them off.”





Thirty-Five

Oakley

The bus arrives back to campus late. Way later than any of us thought it would, and by that time, most of the team’s celebration high has worn off. Actually, half the team—Quinn included—is dead asleep when the bus rolls to a stop outside our home arena.

Not me, though.

I’m too busy reliving what might well be the best night of my life, and not just because of the trophy sitting in the front of the bus beside Coach. It’s got a lot to do with it, but the guy fast asleep with his head against my shoulder is the main reason.

Just as well that he’s getting some rest. He played his ass off tonight, and I have plans to keep him up for the rest of it once we’re locked in a bedroom.

Who it belongs to and whoever else overhears, I don’t fucking care.

Of course, we still have a lot to talk about, even if he doesn’t want me continuously apologizing to him for the next twenty years for everything Braxton and I did to cause his suspension. But I’m hoping it can happen after we celebrate a little.

Our driver flicks the lights, illuminating the interior of the bus, and a series of groans follow.

I glance down in time to catch Quinn’s nose wrinkle up, his eyes clenching closed to keep the light out before burrowing deeper into my shoulder. Which only makes his glasses fall clear off his face and into his lap.

I’ve never once in my life thought the word adorable while looking at him, but I’ll be damned if the sight doesn’t make my heart twist into knots.

“We’re here,” I murmur, brushing a kiss on the top of his head.

Two gorgeous blue eyes peel open, blinking rapidly before he repositions his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “What time is it?”

“Just after two.”

Another wrinkle of the nose. “Ugh, we should have just stayed at the hotel another night.”

He’s definitely not wrong, but I’ll never say no to sleeping—or fucking—in my own bed. Or Quinn’s bed. I don’t care which.

Coach rises at the front of the bus, looking us all over from the aisle.

“I’m proud of every single one of you for the way you played tonight. Like Quinton said, you won as a team tonight. No one player is more important than another.” He nods toward Quinn, who gives a subtle nod in return. “We’ve still got work to do, as you know. But take the rest of the weekend to refresh and recharge. Get your celebrating out and come back Monday morning ready to hit the weights.”