Lizzie on my bed with her curled hair wild, her makeup a bit disheveled and her clothes askew was the most erotic sight. One I’d remember forever.
“Let’s get these damn jeans off you,” I said, leaning back and going straight for the zipper.
“Get scissors,” she rasped, wiggling and lifting her hips. “I think they’re fused to my hips and ass now.”
She wasn’t wrong. They were practically glued to her hips but as we wiggled and tugged, she breathed a sigh of relief, her hand fell to her lower stomach as I pulled them the rest of the way off.
“Oh thank goodness. I can breathe again. I might have to go buy new clothes soon.” Her smile was crooked, a little nervous. If she, for one second, thought I gave a shit about any of that, she was wrong. Crawling back up the bed, I slid my hand over hers, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her simple, white thong, and pressed my lips to her swollen area.
“Take my credit card. Go buy anything you need. Buy everything you don’t need, I don’t give a fuck, but don’t ever look nervous with me about how your body looks.” I peered up at her, her full breasts heaving beneath her shirt and her lips parted.
We’d known each other too damn long to be embarrassed about anything. Sure, I knew women thought shit about their bodies that men didn’t give one single fuck about. Stretch marks, extra weight. It was all bullshit. There would never be a day that went by, regardless of changes she was going to go through, where Lizzie Winston wouldn’t be my ideal woman.
“Garrett,” she whispered, sliding her hand into my hair and giving a gentle tug. “I’m sorry. For last year. December. Waiting so long.”
“Fuck.” I closed my eyes, kissed her stomach and grabbed her hand, pulling her to sitting. I arranged us so she was straddling my lap and pulled her to me. Cupping her cheeks, I tilted her chin up so she was forced to meet the seriousness of my gaze. “We’ve both waited a long time for this.”
I brushed hair behind her ear but didn’t take my eyes off her for a second. She had to hear this. Move past it. “I ain’t mad, Lizzie. I don’t care how we ended up right where we are, I’m just damn glad we’re here. K? Get all that shit outta your head.”
“We could have had more time.”
What was done was done. Yeah, the night we spent together over a year ago, where I’d laid my heart out and she hadn’t done the same had hurt. Neither of us talking after, me waiting for her when I knew that wasn’t her thing, her expecting me to always act like I had, and then December when she asked for time and took too damn long—that hurt.
“Honey…” I waited until she opened her eyes. “We have the rest of our lives. That’s all that matters.”
Her lips parted, giving me the perfect opening. I slid my lips against hers and dipped my tongue inside. I kissed away her worries and her doubts.
She was here. She might have to leave, but she’d be back. That much I knew.
Lizzie and I were meant to be together forever and I’d ensure nothing, absolutely nothing stopped us again.
18
Lizzie
Sophie Lawson was a certifiable nut. While I’d always had to drag friends to Garrett’s games in Chicago, or an occasional date which now made me feel like a pile of turd nuggets, Sophie lived for hockey. Shouldn’t have surprised me since she’d told me she and Braxton started dating when they were teenagers and everyone in the small Wisconsin town where they were raised skated all winter or played hockey.
But this girl didn’t just love the game. She was a maniac.
“Sit down,” I grunted through a smile, tugging on her green and gold Vipers jersey with Braxton’s name and number twenty-four on the back. “Before you get us kicked out.”
The beautiful and sweet, almost innocent, looking brunette smirked at me. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Oh shit. I didn’t think she was kidding. Unfortunately, the two drunken a-holes behind us weren’t just drunk and rowdy, they were fans of St. Louis, probably in town to party it up before their team’s game and hadn’t stopped drinking since they arrived on the Strip.
They’d also made it clear they not only hated Lawson as a player, but chicks who thought hockey was only about hard sticks… their words.
So maybe it’d be worth getting kicked out for.
“Sit your ass down,” one of the rumpled, drunk, and unshowered and unshaved men grumbled. “Your ass might be fine and tiny, but it’s in my way.”
“She’d look better without that jersey on, too,” the other guy grumbled.
“Excuse me?” I whipped my head around. They were definitely worth getting kicked out for.
My hand was still tugging on Sophie’s jersey, but instead of sitting, she grabbed my wrist and yanked me to my feet. So I was pregnant. So I was totally sober and completely over the reek of their beer breath in a way I could puke at their feet… they’d deserve that one.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “Brax and I have a sign.”
She winked, turned back around and thank God her husband was on the bench. He’d found her attention several times when his line wasn’t on the ice, and as she patted her head, ran her hand over her chest three times, he was suddenly on his feet, whispering harshly to Coach and the security guard outside the home team’s bench. The security guard glanced our way and then grabbed something clipped to his belt.
I glanced at her, her smug expression with her hands on her hips, ignoring the jeers coming from behind us.
“You’re at risk of getting kicked out so often that you and Braxton have a sign for this?”
“Yep.” And as she said it, behind me and toward the stairs, three security guards rushed down. She grinned at me. “I love hockey.”
“Excuse me,” one of the guards said to the men behind us when Sophie pointed at the two of them. “We’re going to need you to come with us. Harassing Mrs. Lawson isn’t allowed in our arena.”
As the men stuttered, jaw dropping as they realized exactly who they’d been jerks to, Sophie gave them a little wave of her fingers and a jaunty wink. “Enjoy your time in Vegas, boys.”
“You fucking bitch!” one shouted. He lunged at her, but for her part, Sophie stood still, all five-foot-four of her. The guard stopped him, grabbed his arms, and I gaped at the men, the security team, and Sophie, while the crowd around us cheered on the removal of the other team’s fans.
Once they were gone, Sophie grabbed my hand and plopped us back into our seats.
“I might have to change my mind about Friday’s game,” I said to her.
“Nonsense. This doesn’t happen every game. Friday should be fine.”
Yeah, but I’d be in a location where she couldn’t easily get Braxton’s attention if it wasn’t. “You know I’m pregnant, right?”
She laughed, reached for a cup of soda and bumped her shoulder into me. For a tiny thing, she was damn strong. Probably all that hockey playing she did growing up. “You’re hilarious.”
I wasn’t joking. She kind of terrified me.
In the end, the game went on without further need for security assistance, the Vipers won, Garrett didn’t let a single puck through the net and afterward, I allowed Sophie to escort me down to the player entrance area beneath the stadium.