Page 77 of Call the Shots (For The Arena #1)

JUNE

MAKE ME FEEL BETTER

To me, being in love always meant appearances. The right moments captured in pictures, like gathering evidence to prove I was in a happy and healthy relationship, fighting for that frozen memory to show— this is fine! I promise, it’s perfect!

Being in love with Bear was so different.

It was so cozy. Warm and human with no timer above our heads, nothing to do but enjoy being so close. It felt like I was listening to one of those classic love songs when we stepped into our dorm, the flicker of a familiar rhythm in our step, in the way we touched.

I led him to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Bear was quiet while I helped him take off his clothes, ever so slowly because of his pain. I’d honestly gotten used to the bruises from hockey, but these ones were so fresh.

I stroked the few inches of unblemished skin. “Do you need more painkillers?”

“I’m okay.” He slipped a finger through my belt loop. “Are you taking a shower with me?”

“Mm…probably not a good idea. I’ll shower after.”

Bear took a step closer, tilting my chin. His warm brown eyes drank me in until a blush colored my cheeks. It was hypnotism. It had to be because I didn’t object when he unbuttoned my jeans.

The water washed away the last of the blood and Bear gently rubbed the bite marks on my hip. Watching him touch me, I had the weirdest sense of déjà vu. It wasn’t for the past and I wasn’t nostalgic. It was this odd feeling that we’d have a thousand showers like this.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

“I wanted to hear you say it,” he admitted. “It sounds perfect when you say it.”

Water dripped between us, and I instinctively leaned up when he angled me to meet him. A muscle memory, knowing he wanted a kiss. His lips crashed to mine, and he choked out a curse, flinching hard.

Oh my god, the broken nose.

I pulled back. “No, no?—”

“That didn’t count,” he insisted, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t do it right?—”

“We’re going to bed?—”

“I need it,” he urged, eyes on my lips. “Please.”

Fuck. I breathed in slowly before offering the only solution I could think of. “Slow.”

“Slow,” he agreed. “Slow.”

Bear dipped down, cradling my face in his hands, kissing me again.

His lips moved against mine, unhurried, taking his time.

This was different. A fire spread through my body, burning me from the inside out with each lingering kiss.

He took a struggling breath before kissing me again.

It was supposed to be one kiss. Wasn’t it? I couldn’t remember.

I had to break free to breathe. “Does it hurt?”

“Make me feel better,” he muttered. “Don’t stop kissing me.”

His cock nudged me, his hard-on impossible to ignore, slick against me in the shower. I panted. “Blowjob in the bedroom?—”

“I want inside you.”

“Cowgirl then, I’ll avoid the bruises.”

“I want to kiss.”

“Broken nose means no kisses during sex.”

“I’m the one with the broken nose, I get to decide.” Bear slipped his hands under my ass to hoist me up against the wall. “I want more. I want all of you.”

I locked my arms around his neck for something to hold on to. I meant to convince him to put me down, but he was too persuasive. With each deepened kiss, I melted more and more.

“You should be grateful I don’t tie you up and fuck you for the rest of the summer.” He bit my lip, his cock pulsing between us, insistent for my attention. “So fucking grateful I let you put a leash on me.”

Blood pounded in my ears. “That’s such bullshit.”

Bear’s eyes flashed open.

“Like you don’t love your leash,” I whispered, stroking his hair. “Like you don’t love being owned.”

His breathing turned ragged as he pushed me against the shower, reminding me who was bigger, who had the power, but I could feel how much he throbbed for me. I could see him hanging on to every word, waiting for me to continue.

“I own you,” I reminded him, my voice husky. “You belong to me.”

Bear cut me off with a hard kiss. He flinched into it but refused to break away, holding me up to push his cock inside. There was no pause. Bear kept kissing me, thrusting me into the shower wall, fucking me harder than I’d ever been before.

“Tell me you love me,” he cursed.

“I love you, I love you, I-love-you,” I choked out, stringing the words together until they didn’t make sense. It was so much, so overwhelming getting pounded into, and I dug my fingernails into his back with the orgasm.

Bear unraveled, spilling into me with wild curses, my name mixed in like he was holding on to it as tightly as I held on to him.

His body trembled against mine until he stilled, finally finished.

But I knew he wasn’t really done.

I started to think of it as him ‘settling.’ After sex, he was all-touch, rubbing his cheek against mine, digging his fingers into my hips, touching me, always touching me. Even when he set me down, his lips found my neck and he bit me, holding me still while he put his hands where he wanted to.

It was part of his routine. He wanted to stay in the moment together.

We didn’t have anywhere to be, so I didn’t rush him. I let Bear take all the time he needed before he helped me out of the shower, my legs wobbly. He whispered ‘ I love you ’s while he dried me off, pulling one of his shirts over my head.

I relaxed on his— our —bed and Bear returned with painkillers for the both of us. The second I was done taking a swig from his water bottle, he slid me across the bed, pulling me towards him.

“Thank you,” he muttered. “Fucking thank you.”

“Be honest,” I whispered. “How much did that hurt?”

“Honestly? Hurt really fucking bad.”

“Then why? ”

“If we were having sex and you stabbed me—” He paused. “Conditional on…I was going to say if it was a life-threatening wound but if it was that bad, wouldn’t I want to go out on a high? Yeah, you could stab me, I’d probably keep going.”

“Men are so weird.”

“I’m being romantic, I wouldn’t let just anyone knife me. This is an ‘only you’ situation.”

Bear looked so serious when he said it too. I wanted to laugh but after everything that happened today, I kissed his chest and snuggled into him instead.

“Can I ask you something?” I whispered.

“Uh-huh. Always.”

“Do you want to be my date for my dad’s concession speech?”

“Awesome, got the invite—” He frowned. “Wait…concession…is that winning? I don’t think that’s winning.”

“This is a secret. My dad, who I love, has the exact same policies and politics as the incumbent?—"

“What’s an incumbent?”

“Current mayor. There’s no difference between them, no reason for a majority to actually vote for my dad. Every couple of years, my mom puts on a show because he wants to run but he never gets above twenty percent of the vote.”

“Holy shit.”

“My mom and I both know he won’t win. For a couple of years, it made me angry,” I admitted. “It’s like he’s shoveling money in a garbage disposal—especially since I don’t think my dad wants to be mayor, he only wants to be liked.”

“He could give that money away and make thirty best friends tomorrow.”

“He could fund actual politicians who want to change things for the better, build homeless shelters, create hundreds of scholarships, singlehandedly fund community pantries—” I shook my head.

“I’ve tried talking to him, she’s tried talking to him…

he promised this would be the last run if he doesn’t win. ”

“Woah.”

“Mm-hmm. Want to come? If you give him a beer while he sits on the porch after the loss, you’ll become his favorite person.”

“Get close to my girlfriend’s dad? I’ll be there.”

“Bear?”

“Huh?”

I smiled. “You’re so cute.”

Bear Moreau—the six-foot-four defenseman who used to scowl through every social media video I took of him—dropped his eyes from my gaze. A flush crept up his neck that had nothing to do with the temperature of the bedroom.