Page 34

34

RONAN

“W e should probably make dinner…” Nicky’s warm breath flutters against the side of my neck. Even as she says it, her arm that’s bracketed around my torso hugs me tighter.

Fuck. I like this.

For the past five minutes, her stomach has been growling like a bear waking from hibernation. Still neither of us have made any moves to get out from our blanket cocoon.

I lean over the side of the bed and grab my phone. “Let’s get takeout. Pizza? Or are you in the mood for Chinese?”

I feel her head shake left to right. “No, we should cook.” She pushes herself up to a sitting position and I’m quick to capture her into my arms, pulling her against my chest again.

“Why do we need to cook?”

The last thing I want to do is leave this bed. Ever.

With the head space I’m in, I’d even pay the delivery guy extra to tiptoe inside the house and leave the takeout bags outside this bedroom door.

Nicky giggles, shimmying around as she tries to get away from me. In the process, she rubs her naked curves all over my body, only making me hard all over again.

Now she’s standing at the foot of the bed, in all her nude perfection, fists planted on her wide hips. “Ronan—real couples cook themselves dinner. They don’t just lie around in bed, having sex and eating takeout for days on end. And besides, we’re after learning experiences, remember?”

I emit a rough sigh. “Fine,” I say when I see that she’s really not backing down. “But I have a condition.”

“What’s your condition?” she asks, sounding a tiny bit afraid.

It almost makes me grin. “You have to wear this.”

“Oh god…” I hear her grumbling behind me as I dig through my dresser drawers.

Nicky comes up beside me. When she notices the paperback I have stashed in here, she snatches the book out of my drawer. “Um, what’s this?” She holds up the novel in my face. A big, hairy man-chest mocks me from the front cover.

I flinch. “ My Blazing Bedsheets by Emma Stanley-Westbrook…”

“My best friend wrote that book. Since when do you read romance novels?” She titters incredulously.

“Your best friend? That’s cool.” I sigh, not thrilled about having to confess to this. “Since I noticed that you carry this one around with you everywhere you go,” I blurt out. “I see that smile on your face when you sit in your little armchair, getting lost in the pages. I just wanted to know what all the grinning was about.”

She’s standing there, blinking at me in confusion. “You bought a romance novel just to know what I’ve been reading about?”

My shoulder pops up casually. “I want to be able to make you smile like that. If this thing is the instruction manual on how to be the kind of boyfriend you want, I’ll be reading it cover to cover, upside down and right side up.”

“Wow, Ronan.” Nicky presses up against my side, wrapping her arms around my waist. “We’re only a few days in, but you’re already doing a pretty fantastic job at being a practice boyfriend. Best study buddy I’ve ever had.”

“That’s what I want to hear.”

She furrows her brows skeptically. “But make sure to run it by me before you ever try that sex thing that happens in chapter twenty-three.”

I flinch, knowing exactly what scene she’s talking about. “Yeah. That shit was pretty extreme. I already decided I’m skipping chapter twenty-three altogether.”

Nicky laughs and releases me from her hold. She extends a palm to me. “Deal.”

I gently shake her hand. “Deal.”

I go back to digging around in the drawer. I pivot to face her when I find what I’m looking for. I shake out a fleecy button-down sleep shirt and hold it up for her to see. “I want to see you wearing this.”

“Mmm. Saints pajamas? Cute,” she says, a grin curling her lips as she trails her fingers along the pattern of Saints logos decorating every inch of the fabric. “I like this. Cozy.” Her eyes shoot to mine, twinkling with excitement. “But you’ve got to wear the matching pants.”

“Of course I’m wearing the matching pants.” I’m offended that she’d expect anything less from me.

I watch Nicky button up the front of her pajama shirt. She watches me step into the matching pajama pants. Then we stand in front of each other, grinning.

“Look how hot we are.” I look in the mirror and all I can see is Nicky. With her messy curls and bare legs and her perky tits and her unstoppable grin. She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

Her eyes flit over our reflection. She presses four fingers to her lips, her pinky finger sticking up in the air, then she makes a smacking sound with her lips. “Chef’s kiss!”

I crack up. “Come on. Let’s see what we’ve got in the kitchen.” I crouch down, patting my back, inviting her to climb on.

Nicky doesn’t hesitate. In fact, in the mirror, I see how her smile goes even wider as she hops onto my back.

I grip her sexy bare legs and merrily carry her down the stairs. The whole way, she’s sniffing my neck and kissing my cheek.

In the kitchen, I fling open my poorly-organized fridge and we analyze the contents.

“What’s that?” Nicky slides off my back and points to a big cardboard box packed behind the egg cartons and the yogurt containers.

“Oh, this?” I wiggle the box to the forefront and set it on the counter, pointing to the bright pink label that reads Karli’s Kitchen . “My sister comes over and stuffs these boxes into my fridge every week. She’s in the middle of launching one of those meal prep services. You know those companies where you pay a subscription fee and you get a bunch of groceries and recipes delivered to your house every week?”

Nicky’s face lights up with interest. “Mason did mention that. I think that is so cool.” She softly nudges me out of the way, prying open the flaps of the box.

“We’re all really excited about it,” I say, beaming with pride over my little sister. “Darius is even investing in the company.”

“Well, he’d better. This business is going to blow up. All of it looks amazing.” She’s pulling out ingredients and cooing over recipe cards. She spins to face me, holding up two mouthwatering options. “Cheesy Chicken tenders with chili-garlic potatoes? Or spinach tortellini in rosé pasta sauce?”

“Nuh-uh. No garlic.” I shake my head, looping an arm around her hip and pulling her to me. “We’ve still got a lot of making out to do tonight, madam. No garlic.”

She laughs and kisses the side of my neck. Her teeth nip lightly. “Point taken. Tortellini, it is.”

Nicky and I work together, chopping veggies and making sauces and turning the kitchen into a disaster. But about half an hour later, we’re seated side by side at the kitchen island, grinning at each other over plates of pasta.

She pours red wine into long-stemmed glasses. “What should we toast to?”

“To you, still being able to walk straight after that pounding you got earlier,” I suggest.

She’s not impressed. “Whether I’ll be able to walk when I wake up in the morning remains to be seen, mister.”

I laugh and try again. “To you, sucking my cock like an absolute gold medalist.”

Her eyes roll up in their sockets. “Is that all you’ve got, Brighton?”

Just for a little while, I go serious. I grasp her chin in the palm of my hand. “To you, being an even better practice girlfriend than I ever dreamed of. And for the record, I dreamed of you a lot. ”

Now, she cracks that pretty smile.

I take her hand, kissing her knuckles. “You are absolutely incredible, Nicky. Not just beautiful but smart and witty and creative, too. You’re a blessing to anyone who gets to be near you. And I’ll keep saying it over and over until you believe me—I’m so fucking lucky that you agreed to share yourself with me this way.”

She shrugs, dismissing my praise almost like it’s a reflex. “Well, all of this is only practice. I think I’m in dire need of that.”

“No,” I say softly but firmly, stopping her in her tracks. “New rule. When I compliment you, you’re supposed to take a moment to absorb it. Don’t just brush it off and minimize it.”

She nods slightly. “Right.” Then she closes her eyelids for a drawn-out moment. She breathes in deeply, marinating in my words. Then she opens her eyes and smiles.

“How did that feel?” I ask her.

“Really good, actually. Thank you.” Nicky falls into my gaze, her smile genuine. “I’m glad we decided to try this. It’s fun. And it’s liberating. And it’s giving me a sort of confidence I didn’t realize I was lacking before.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “Yeah. It already feels so easy asking you for what I want. Like, I don’t have to be ashamed.”

I kiss her knuckles. “It gives me great pleasure, giving you everything you want.”

“Oh my god…” she whispers, grinning and fanning her cheek. “Such a charmer you are.”

When we finally manage to pull our gazes apart, we dive into our meals. We’re silent for a while and it feels like we’re both tangled in our own thoughts.

Then Nicky speaks without looking at me, her eyes lingering on her plate. “Ronan?”

I peer over at her. “Yeah?”

She pokes aimlessly at her pasta with her fork. “When the hockey season is over, we stop this, right?” Her eyes finally come to mine.

There’s a long beat of silence as we just stare at each other.

I clear my throat. “Yes. When the season is over we…stop.” These words are a complete contradiction to what I’m feeling inside.

She bites on her lower lip. “Right.”

And for one moment, I question whether Nicky’s feelings have changed. Whether she might want more. Whether she might want this practice thing between us to be real.

“That’s what you want?” I ask her finally.

I’ve seen her taste in men. I absolutely loathe the idea that I’m putting in this work, only for some other asshole to benefit from it down the line.

She’s quick to nod her head. “Yeah. Totally. That’s what I want.”

I clear my throat, looking away. “Yeah. That’s what I want, too.”

But there’s a thin line between this lie and the truth. And I’m already struggling to pick a side.