I lift her thigh and push into her body, watching her face. Her lips part, her eyes gaze up at me, her hands on my chest. Our gazes hold while heat builds and shimmers around us. The love and devotion in her eyes is my own reflected back at me, and my heart thuds in a slow, heavy rhythm against my ribs. “I feel so lucky right now,” I whisper.
She gives me a trembling smile back. “Me too.”
I slide slowly in and out of her slick heat as she squeezes around me, her hands pressed to my chest. Sensation coils inside me, heavy and hot.
“Owen.”
I gaze down at her, riveted by the sight of her beautiful face as I thrust deeper, harder. She lifts into me, and I watch her eyelids lower and her mouth open. Hot little whimpers and soft sighs escape her lips, building as she gets closer, and closer. Her fingernails dig into my pecs. Then her body tightens, her pussy rippling around me, her cries exquisitely beautiful in my ears.
“I love watching you come. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” I fall over her, burying my face in the side of her neck and breathing in the familiar scent of her, flowers and spice and Emerie. My chest clenches at the perfection of it, the overwhelming intensity of it, the rush of emotion inside me so strong.
I’ve never had intimacy like this. Sex, yeah. But this is more. It’s life. And love.
My thighs quake and my balls tighten, the tension at the small of my back sizzling painfully. Electricity tingles up my spine, scorching every nerve ending in my body and I come, my cock jerking inside her in almost painful, wrenching spasms.
She wraps her arms around my back and holds on tight. My face buried in her hair, I draw in long, ragged breaths.
“Oh, Emerie.” I move on her, lifting my head so I can kiss her. A long, tender kiss of devotion and promise. “Emerie. I love you.”
We curl up together under the covers, wrapped in a delicious warm afterglow. I run my hand down her sleek back to cup her ass and gently squeeze. “Christ, I’ve missed you,” I breathe into her mouth. “So fucking much.”
“I missed you, too.”
I hold onto her. I’m never letting her go.
We’re lying in the middle of my huge bed, face to face. We can’t stop touching each other—faces, shoulders, arms, hair. “What you said about being afraid of being alone just about killed me. I…have a confession.”
Emerie purses her lips. “What?”
“I overheard you talking to Vince. At the game the other night. When you said you were used to feeling invisible…Christ.” I swallow. “It was like taking a butt end in the gut. I realized what an asshole I’d been. I was trying to protect myself by focusing on hockey and not you. I should have talked to you about it. But…”
“It’s hard. I know.” Her fingertips drift over my beard stubble.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Another thing Morrie, Hellsy, and Millsy were right about. They’re on this mission to get guys to talk about their feelings.”
“Oh yeah. The world would be a better place if that happened.”
“Fuck. I have to admit they’re right.”
“That’s another thing we can help each other with. Okay?” Her eyes search mine. “Whatever you’re feeling…tell me. You already know I love you no matter what.”
“Yeah.” My heart clenches. “Same.” I rub my thumb over her soft lower lip.
“I think you impressed Vince tonight.”
One corner of my mouth lifts. “Well, at least he didn’t seem pissed off.”
“Maybe he’s finally accepting that Roman and I are done forever.”
“Ugh. You had to say that name.”
“Sorry. Never again. I hope he’s accepting it. And I hope he’s given up on trading you, or whatever.”
“We’ll deal with it if he does. But if I end up in Winnipeg, I don’t know how much money you can make busking.”
She laughs, then sobers. “You’d be okay if I kept busking?”
“Of course. It’s part of you. It’s what first stopped me in my tracks and gave me goosebumps.”
Her mouth softens. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“I think I fell in love with you, watching you sing in the subway.”
“Ah.” She pulls in a sniffly breath. “Thank you. I saw you watching me, you know.”
“I tried to hide so you wouldn’t think I was stalking you.”
“News flash. You’re too tall to hide.”
I grin. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Tell me more about your brother.”
I search her face, and she gives a tiny, encouraging nod. So I talk. I tell her about the memories Mom, Dad, and I shared, all the good stuff, some of the bad. And the bitterness I’ve been feeling for so long about his death finally slides away, leaving sadness, yes, but also acceptance. Peace. “I miss him.”
“You always will.” She cups my face. “That’s okay.”
“Thank you for telling me to talk to my parents. It was what I needed.”
“I’m glad.”
“I was afraid to see them all these years. Because I was so guilty about how I felt about Eric. I thought they’d hate me for being angry with him.” Regret is a dull heaviness in my chest.
“Oh no.” Her forehead creases.
“They don’t hate me. They understand. And…there’s something else I want to tell you about.”
“Okay.” Her eyes are luminous with acceptance. Of whatever I’m about to say. I’m so fucking lucky.
I tell her about going to Light House. How I needed to do something when I was suspended and hockey wasn’t it.
“That’s amazing,” she says softly, touching my cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks. I’m kind of proud of myself, too. I’m going to go back.”
“Good.”
I pull her hand to my mouth and kiss her palm. “I guess I have to thank my buddies for that, too.”
Her eyes widen.
“Morrie. Hellsy. Millsy. They staged an intervention.” I snort.
“Oh.” She blinks.
“They tried to get me to see that my obsession with work and hockey was like an addiction. And I was using it to hide from stuff in my life I hadn’t dealt with.”
“Ohhhh. Wow. Yeah.”
“Will you help me? If I start obsessing about it? I know now, and I want to do better. I want to be there for you more. But if I slip…”
“I’m there for you. Always.”
I close my eyes, emotion flooding my chest, hot and soft. “Thank you.”
“Because you’ll help me, too…right?”
I focus on her. “Of course.”
“I…uh…started a SoundCloud account. I’m putting my music on there.”
“Really? Wow! That’s great, Em.”
She smiles. “I’m terrified.”
“You got this.”
“I’m excited, too. It’s going okay. And there’s something else.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to do an open mic night. Saturday.”
“Whoa! Really?”