The muscles in my core actually ache from trying so hard to keep myself still, but all of my attention is focused on the place where our bodies meet. I've never felt a sensation like this. Even slapping the puck towards the net for a game winning shot at the buzzer doesn't come close to comparing. He's vice-tight and molten hot, and I feel like I can barely breath as he draws me in not just with his body but with his everything. His eyes are big and brown and so fucking vulnerable, and I feel like I've just been given the world.

He tells me to move and I do, gasping as I roll my hips and sink into his body again. There's a sound ringing in my ears, quiet over the rush of blood, and it takes a moment for me to realize that it's my own voice that I'm hearing. Desperate French rolls off of my tongue and then it's just his name over and over, like nothing else even matters. "Bitty."