Page 25 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan (Billionaires Seeking Wives Club #2)

Chapter Seventeen

E rica

"It’s really cool here," I say, looking around at the price signs and numbers along the bridge. Even though I know it is a popular activity to walk the Brooklyn Bridge, I didn’t quite expect to see so many people.

Tyler walks alongside me, his hands in his pockets.

There is a glint in his dark brown eyes, and it makes me feel alive.

It makes me feel like he really sees me, but I don’t want to read too much into it. I’m just enjoying being here.

After my conversation with Suki, I realized that I don’t want to be someone who grows old and gray and has regrets. I want to be someone who lives in the moment.

"I can’t believe that you got a watercolor set," Tyler says, shaking his head as we stop. "That was really thoughtful of you."

"Not really. It was only like twenty dollars," I say. "I was in an art store and thought it would be fun. You can show me how to paint a dog or a cat or something."

"I can show you how to paint quite a few things. But it was thoughtful. It really was. I was having a little bit of a weird day, and this kind of brightened my mood."

"No way. Is Tyler Kane being all mushy with me?"

"No, I wouldn’t say I’m being mushy. I’m grateful to know that you see me."

"I see you, and you see me," I say, not really sure why I’m joking but feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"Do you want to talk about your day?" I ask him, because I don’t know what else to say. I don’t want to go into anything too deep and dark, but I do want to let him know that I’m here for him if he needs someone.

"It was just weird. My sister’s getting married to this wealthy son of a very wealthy man in Iowa, yet his family doesn’t want to contribute anything to the wedding, to the honeymoon, or to the house they’re going to live in.

And my sister called me, begging me to take care of everything.

And of course, because I love her and want the best for her, I said yes.

But sometimes, I just feel a little used.

I’m lucky enough to have it—honestly, it won’t even be a drop in the bucket of money that I have.

But sometimes it’s not about the money; it’s about how someone makes you feel. "

"I know," I say, nodding. "It’s really important for people to understand that whatever you do, no matter how big or small it may be, means something."

I stare at him for a couple of seconds. "Do you feel like your sister’s using you?"

He nods slowly. "Which is crazy, because she’s my sister, and I love her. Everything I’ve done is for my family, but sometimes I just feel like—do they even care? Or is it just expected?"

"Yeah," I say, letting out a deep sigh. "I really hope that my parents and my brothers don’t feel that way. But now I wonder if they do. I wonder if I’m like your sister, just wanting, wanting, wanting."

"Hey, there’s nothing wrong with wanting. And you don’t strike me as someone who only thinks about herself and makes poor decisions."

"I make plenty of poor decisions," I say with a grin. "I mean, I’m here with you right now. Right?"

"And what’s wrong with that?" he says, taking a step closer to me.

I swallow hard. I should not be here. I know I shouldn’t be here because this is more about us and where this could go than just a casual date, walking across the bridge.

“I just feel like maybe I?—

"What?" he says, taking another step closer.

He just grabs my hand and stares into my eyes. "You’re so beautiful."

"I want to thank you for that," I say. Just kiss me , I think.

He slides his hand down the side of my arm, making me shiver.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Would I do anything like that?" he says, his lips moving slightly closer to mine.

"Oh my gosh, just kiss me," I say with a pout.

He bursts out laughing. Finally, his lips are on mine, and he presses them close.

I reach my arms around his neck and stroke the nape where his silky hair meets his collar.

He holds me close to him, pressing my body against his so I can feel that hard, muscular frame.

We kiss for what feels like hours, but I know it isn’t.

He tastes like popcorn, and I never knew I loved popcorn as much—just that buttery goodness.

He is warm and sweet and salty, and I don’t want the night to end.

"Want to go somewhere?" he asks.

"But we haven’t painted."

"I think that’s okay," he says with a small smile, grabbing my hand.

"Let’s—but where? I can’t go to my place, and... well, I don’t know that I’m ready to go to yours."

I don’t know why, but maybe it would be too intimate to be in his space—too much, like this is an actual relationship.

And I don’t want to start thinking of him in those terms. I don’t want to start thinking of him as potential anything.

This is just for the moment. This is just for the passion.

This is just for my bloodstream, which is racing hot and furious.

"There’s a hotel a couple of blocks away," he says.

"Get a room or a whole suite?" I tease him.

We start running, and it feels exhilarating.

I can feel the wind through my hair. I feel like I’m in the Olympics and have already won.

When we reach the hotel, he stops. We are both breathing hard, and he pushes me back against the wall and kisses me.

He runs his fingers down the side of my body and then pulls away.

"We can stop right here, right now," he says.

My eyes widen.

"We can paint. We can get donuts. We can even go to Coney Island. We can do whatever you want. We don’t have to go in here if you don’t want to."

"I want to," I say slowly, loving the fact that we are here and I so very obviously want to go inside, but he is still giving me an out.

"At any time you change your mind, we can?—"

"Tyler," I say, pressing my finger against his lips. "Less talking."

He grins at me, the most boyish grin that I've seen on his face, and for a few moments, he just seems younger, more carefree, more lovable, more adorable.

And my heart races—not just because I want to be with him, but because I am with him.

Because this moment is special, and it means so much, and I just feel so free and happy.

We walk inside, and it seems like we get the keys to the room within minutes. "I got us the penthouse," he says as we wait by the elevator.

"You shouldn’t have spent so much money." I shake my head.

"That’s nothing," he says. "We deserve this."

The elevator doors open, and we step inside, standing side by side, grinning at each other guiltily, as if we’re doing something wrong—but we’re not. We’re both innocent. We’re free. We’re disengaged. And we both want this. I really want this.

We exit into the penthouse, and my jaw drops. The view is amazing. The lights outside sparkle, and in one corner of the room, there’s a huge king-sized bed that looks like it belongs in a dream. I’m here. This is real.

I turn to him, my heart racing. "We don’t have to do this," I say.

"Do you not want to do this?" he asks.

"I do," I whisper.

"But why?—"

"Fuck, Erica. What a stupid question," he mutters. “Why do you think?” I watch as he pulls off his shirt and throws it to the ground, then his shoes, then undoes his belt and slides his jeans down. Now he’s standing there in a pair of black briefs.

His bulge tells me everything I need to know.

My lips part slightly. I need to touch him. I need to feel his skin against mine.

"Take off your clothes." His voice is low and rough.

I do as he says—not because I’m being ordered around, but because in this moment, I want to please. I want him. I peel off my dress slowly until I’m standing there in my bra and panties. He watches me, eyes dark and intense.

I feel powerful. He is emotional. He is turned on just by looking at me. I have power over this man—the most successful hockey player in the league today. He wants me.

He steps forward, and I go to unclasp my bra.

He shakes his head. "I want to do the rest."

His voice is deep, and it makes my entire body shiver. He lifts me up and carries me to the bed like I weigh nothing. He lays me down slowly and then lies next to me. He reaches behind me, unclasps my bra, and tosses it aside.

I’m lying there in just my panties. He’s in just his briefs.

He looks down at me—at my bare breasts, my stomach—and I feel his thumb trace along my skin, between my breasts, down to my belly button, and then lower.

I think he’s going to touch me, but he pauses and slides his hand back up, brushing against my lips instead.

He leans in, blowing softly against my ear.

"Are you sure?" he whispers.

For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to stop. If he’s going to say this is a mistake. That he’s my brother’s friend. That I’m innocent and he’s not what I need. But he doesn’t.

His eyes are dark. He kisses me. His hands are on me—everywhere. His lips, everywhere. And then, my panties are sliding down my legs. I feel his tongue between my thighs, licking, teasing. I gasp. My hands pull down his briefs. He’s over me again, kissing me deeply.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

All I can do is nod.

He thrusts into me hard and fast, and I cry out because it hurts.

He freezes, eyes wide. "Erica…"

I bite my lip nervously. I can feel him throbbing inside me.

"Erica…" he says again, concerned. "Are you… a virgin?"

I laugh lightly. "Was. I mean… I feel something inside me right now, so… not anymore."

"Shit." He starts to pull out. "If I had known?—"

I grab his hand. "No. You’re inside of me. I want this."

"I just don’t want to hurt you."

"Then kiss me," I whisper. I pull his face down to mine. "I want this."

He groans and begins to move slowly inside me. It still hurts slightly, but there’s pleasure, too. A growing warmth. It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced—like I’m about to burst, like I can’t control any part of my body, but in the best way.

I never want him to stop. As he starts to move a little faster, I know this is the moment I’ve waited for my entire life.

"I want you to fuck me harder," I say.

He shakes his head. "It’s your first time. You’re going to be sore tomorrow. I want you to be able to walk."

"Maybe I want you to ruin me."

He growls and rolls me onto my side, still inside me. I wrap my legs around him, and he kisses me again.

He feels so good. This is so bad, but I can’t stop. The feel of him inside me, the way he touches me, the way he kisses me—it’s everything.

I let him do anything to me. Everything. Because in this moment, I’m in heaven.

And I realize—maybe what I’ve been searching for wasn’t even real until now. Maybe this is what I’ve been waiting for. Maybe this is what’s true.

Or maybe… maybe my heart is already connected to him.

And that scares me even more.

Because even though this is the best night of my life, I know that sex isn’t love. And love can’t be born in just one night.

And as much as I’m enjoying him, enjoying this, I don’t know if he feels the same way.

I don’t know if I’m just sex to him.

And my heart feels tight.

Because I think I’m already falling for him.

And now, I finally understand what love really means.

And I realize that just because I love him… doesn’t mean he loves me back.