Page 18

Chapter Eighteen

Bowen

A soft glow from a single lamp illuminated my apartment, casting warm shadows in the empty great room. My chest hummed with anticipation as I called out, “Parker?”

She strolled out of the kitchen, barefoot, and I practically swallowed my tongue. One of my Blazers jerseys strained across her large breasts, fell over the curve of her hips, and ended at the top of her luscious thighs.

She held a strawberry pie in her hands.

My lips twitched, my amusement threatening to burst free.

Her welcoming smile lit her rosy mouth, and her eyes sparkled with warmth. Parker touched my heart in a way that was both thrilling and unfamiliar.

“Congratulations on the W and the winning goal,” she said. Her husky undertone sent a pleasant shiver down my spine and hardened my groin.

“This is a nice surprise,” I rumbled, stepping closer, the sweet scent of strawberries wafting in the air. “The advantages of not going to Scrimmage’s.”

She smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. “Definitely.”

I cocked my head, curiosity mixing with concern. “Did you brave the press to pick up that pie at the diner?” The thought of her navigating the gauntlet of reporters tugged at my protective instincts.

She shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips, the sound warm and melodic. “Delivery,” she replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

I closed the distance between us, the space suddenly charged with a palpable anticipation. Her breath hitched slightly when I reached out, our fingers brushing as I took the dessert from her hands. The brief contact sent a spark of electricity up my arm, making my heartbeat spike.

Carefully, I placed the pie on the table beside us, the fruity aroma filling the room. But as much as I appreciated the pie and the callback to our first date, my attention was completely absorbed by her—the way her eyes followed my movements, the flush in her cheeks, and the way she seemed to hold her breath, waiting for my next move. “Bedroom first, pie later,” I said.

Her eyes darkened with desire. She turned and sauntered ahead of me to the bedroom. Tugging the jersey over her head in one graceful move, she tossed it aside carelessly, leaving her smooth skin naked to my gaze. The sway of her hips taunted me. This playful, teasing side of her was…fun. I hardly recognized the foreign emotion, but Parker brought it out in me.

I followed her into the bedroom—I’d follow her anywhere. As we stepped into the room, the soft light of a dozen battery-powered candles greeted me. Their warm, golden glow bathed the room in an intimate ambiance and cast gentle shadows along the walls. The usual sharp edges of the furniture seemed to soften in the light, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere that drew me in deeper.

The subtle scent of vanilla filled the air, a comforting fragrance that made my shoulders relax and my heart race at the same time. She’d thoughtfully arranged every detail, touching my heart.

I nodded toward the candles. “Delivery?” I asked, my voice low and filled with amusement.

She nodded and disappeared between the sheets with a chuckle, hiding her heavenly body from my view. Disappointment spurred me on.

I quickly hung my suit and tie, then followed Parker’s lead and tossed the rest of my clothes until I stood hard and naked before her. My heart raced as if I was skating a breakaway. She was so sensual, and I wanted her more than a winning goal.

I wanted a life with her more than I wanted the Stanley Cup.

The realization hit me like a puck to the head, a force so powerful it nearly knocked me to my knees. My entire world, everything I’d worked for, dreamed of, had always centered on winning that silver trophy. But now, standing here, looking into her eyes, I felt the weight of a different desire—a need that went far beyond the rink, beyond the roar of the crowd. It was the need to build something real, something lasting, with her.

The thought gripped me, freezing the air in my lungs. How had I come to this point? When had she become more important than everything I had ever known? It terrified me. What did I know about relationships? I was a bad shot, and one she shouldn’t take. Yet I still wanted her. The Stanley Cup had always been my endgame, my one true goal. But now, the idea of a life with her, of waking up to her smile every day, meant more than any victory on the ice ever could.

She frowned, concern darkening her beautiful eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I slipped between the sheets and took her into my arms. “Just…thinking about what really matters.” I kissed her long and deep, our tongues twining together like our bodies, her light floral scent wrapping around us. She moaned into my mouth, and her response lit me on fire.

I broke away and peppered kisses down her neck to her breasts, paying attention to the sensitive mounds until she was begging and writhing against me. Wanting to beg for release myself, I held back, determined that she would come first.

I kissed a path down her body to her slit and licked, nipped, and sucked until she came on my tongue. Her taste drove me wild for more.

I grabbed a condom from the nightstand and suited up, then slid into her tight, wet heat with one smooth thrust. My home . She wrapped her legs around my waist, and my eyes practically rolled back into my head. I set up a slow pace but couldn’t hold back. Our rhythm became fast and frantic, and she came again with a cry. I fell off the precipice soon after. I wasn’t one for fanciful shit, but it felt like she caught me safely in her embrace when I plunged back to earth.

I was right where I belonged. In her arms.

I withdrew and nuzzled her neck. “I’ll be right back.” I cleaned up in the bathroom and caught sight of myself in the mirror. A small smile lifted the corners of my mouth. I looked content, like a man who had just made lo?—

Had just had life-altering sex.

By the time I returned to the bedroom, she had donned my jersey again and was sitting propped against the headboard. Satisfaction settled in my chest at seeing her in my bed.

My heart raced at the sight of her, so effortlessly beautiful in the soft candlelight. Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, mussed from our activities, and the gentle glow highlighted the curve of her lips, the warmth in her eyes. I wanted to remember this moment forever—the just-fucked way she looked, the way she made me feel emotions I’d never felt before.

I pushed aside the thoughts—so strange for me—and pulled on my boxer briefs. “Stay right where you are.”

I padded to the kitchen and grabbed the pie and two forks. When I returned, I sat beside her on the bed and placed the pie between us. The scent of fresh strawberries, luscious and inviting, made my mouth water.

She cocked an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “The whole pie?”

I shrugged and dug in, the sweet and tart flavors brightening my tongue. “Seemed like a good idea,” I mumbled, savoring the taste but also relishing this time with her.

Her gaze softened, sincerity shining through in the candlelight. “Some of my best memories are of eating strawberry pie with you.”

My heart floated in my chest. I speared a strawberry and held it up, waiting for her to open like a baby bird. She complied, and I slipped the glazed fruit inside. She closed her lips around the morsel, and I slowly slid the tines of the fork out of her mouth. She delicately chewed, holding my gaze. “Good?” I asked.

“Mm-hm.” And I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the strawberry pie.

Or if that’s what I was asking about.

I fed her another sweet bite, feeling a connection in the simple act. “Were the WAGs nice to you?” The thought of her being anything less than welcomed ate at me. If they weren’t, I’d have words with my teammates.

She swallowed, a small smile playing on her lips. “They were wonderful. So accepting. They’re good friends. I can count on them.”

Relief washed over me, lightening the tightness in my chest.

She leaned her head on my shoulder, her warmth seeping into me. “Just like I can count on you.”

“You can,” I murmured, the words a promise I intended to keep. If I had my way, she’d be able to count on me for a long, long time. I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone, but here I was.

She sighed, a soft, wistful sound that tugged at my heart. “I’m going to miss you while you’re on your road trip.”

Her words settled over me like a weight, bittersweet and tinged with longing. I wanted to tell her I’d miss her too, that the thought of being away from her for even a few days hit me harder than I’d anticipated. It was just so damn hard to put my feelings into words. Instead, I pressed a kiss to her temple and set the pie and forks on the nightstand. I dipped my finger in the sticky filling and spread it across her lips before kissing them clean. “Then let’s make the most of tonight.”

I rolled out of bed in the morning, every muscle in my body pleasantly sore and every thought tinged with the memory of the previous night. Exhausted but deeply satisfied, I knew I could catch up on sleep during the flight. Parker was curled up in my bed, her blond hair splayed across the pillow, her breathing deep and even. She looked so peaceful, completely at ease, and I couldn’t bring myself to disturb her.

Quietly, I slipped into the bathroom and let the hot water of the shower wash away the last remnants of sleep. The pounding stream woke me up just enough to focus, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the woman in my bed, her presence settling me in a way I hadn’t expected under the circumstances. I moved around the room with as much stealth as I could while dressing and packing, not wanting to rouse her.

But as much as I wanted to let her rest, I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. Parker didn’t stir. I took in the soft rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes brushed against her cheeks, the serene expression on her face.

Gently, I ran a finger down the soft curve of her cheek, her skin warm and smooth beneath my touch. “Parker,” I whispered. “I have to go.”

She stirred, her sleepy eyes fluttering open, still heavy with sleep. “What?” she murmured groggily.

“See you when I get home.” Despite looking forward to the next game, a pang ran through my chest at leaving her behind.

Her eyes snapped wide open, and she bolted upright, her hair falling in wild waves around her face. “Why didn’t you wake me?” she demanded, blowing wayward strands of hair out of her eyes.

I brushed my fingers through her silky waves, taming her hair. “You needed your sleep.” We’d…fucked…three times throughout the night. That was a crass word for what we’d really done, but I wasn’t ready to put another label on it. Not yet.

Soon.

She leaned into my arms, her warmth flowing into me as her fingers threaded through my short hair, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. I could feel her breath against my neck, soft and steady, and it made my heart race.

I captured her lips in a lingering kiss, letting myself get lost in the softness of her mouth. One kiss turned into another, and then another, each one deeper, more desperate. Her hands roamed my back, pulling me closer, and I lost myself in our intimacy.

But she broke away, softly panting. “You’d better go. You’re going to be late,” she urged, but I could hear the reluctance behind the words.

I checked my watch, and my stomach dropped. Shit. I was out of time. “I’ll call you tonight.”

“Can’t wait,” she replied with a small smile.

I sprinted to my SUV, the morning air hitting my face like a wake-up call. I pushed the speed limit the whole way. By the time I reached the airport, I was the last to board the plane, and I was panting as I jogged down the aisle.

Beck raised an eyebrow as he pulled on his jeans for the flight, his smirk telling me he knew exactly why I was late. “Cutting it close,” he chided, laced with amusement. “Might want to fix your sex hair.”

My cheeks heated as I smoothed my hair. “Asshole,” I muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

He chuckled, the sound following me to my seat.

Despite the rush, exhaustion quickly took over, and I slept for most of the flight, waking with a stiff neck when we landed in Boston. After dinner, I called Parker, needing to hear her voice.

My heart lifted when she answered. “What did you do today?” I asked.

“I volunteered at the cat shelter. Missy was looking for you,” she said, her tone light but without a hint of teasing.

I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. The idea of the kitten wandering around looking for me touched my heart in a way I didn’t think was possible. “You’re joking,” I said, half hoping she was.

“I’m not. She wandered from room to room, meowing.”

My heart plummeted at the thought. “Maybe…” I swallowed hard. “Maybe we should adopt her.” I could pop a daily antihistamine.

Heavy silence met my statement.

“Or maybe n?—”

“You’d do that?” she interrupted, awe and some emotion I couldn’t quite identify tinging her voice.

“Well, it’s not only up to me. Do you want to?”

“I’d love to,” she said.

“Okay, then. After we win the Cup, we’ll bring her home.” The word home slipped out, and it felt right, natural. Home wasn’t just a place anymore; it was Parker, and now, maybe, Missy too.

I spoke with Parker late the next night. She was effervescent, filled with happiness as she told me about the WAGs organizing a happy hour at Whitney and Hudson’s apartment for the newly formed Parker Smith Support Group. Even Mr. Merriweather attended, and her joy was infectious. Hearing her talk about the kindness of her friends, the way she couldn’t stop laughing as she recounted the evening, lightened my chest.

We drew closer with each phone call. On the third day, game day, I called her after my nap and she wished me good luck, making a kissing noise over the line.

Except for Parker, the WAGs had all flown in on a charter plane. We would win the Stanley Cup if we won that night’s game. I understood why Parker wasn’t there, but I still wished she had the freedom to attend.

Spirits ran high in the locker room, the team wound up and ready to win. But there was a nervous energy, too, that buzzed through the air. On edge, I fumbled the ball in our pre-game ritual of two-touch soccer. Fuck. I was a professional—I needed to get my shit together.

Parker’s luck was not with us during the game. Boston capitalized on a 5-on-3 power play in the first period. The second period was scoreless, but Boston extended their lead in the third with a third goal. The Blazers got on the board with a goal by Beck. Boston quickly scored again, and added an empty-net goal, winning 5-1 and forcing a seventh game.

The mood was somber on the bus back to the hotel. The marketing intern giggled at something on her phone, and Coach turned and glared at her. I took the elevator to my floor and trudged down the hallway.

And came to a halt, sucking in a breath.