Page 21

Quinn

I wake up the following day to feel unfamiliar sheets and the smell of Cash clinging to my skin.

The bed is a disaster.

The sheets are pulled from the mattress and twisted around my body; the pillows are on the floor.

I'm pleasantly sore, relishing the familiar ache between my legs, and I have no idea where my clothes are. When our plane touched down in Newfoundland, we were already an embarrassing display of public affection. We couldn't keep our hands or mouths off each other.

And by the time Cash's limo driver dropped us off at his home in Thompson, I was practically naked and halfway to an orgasm.

We made love all night long.

Over and over again.

A glance at the clock tells me it's just after nine, and I roll over, push the tangled hair from my face and blink into the dim light. The other side of the bed is empty and bears only the telltale indentation of Cash's body.

I look up at the sound of footsteps to see him walking toward me, smiling and shirtless, carrying a tray with a pot of tea and two tea cups.

"Morning, Mittens," he says, setting the tray on the bedside table.

The mattress dips as he sits next to me.

"How are you feeling? Not too sore, are you?" His expression is tender, a playful smile curving the corners of his mouth, and I love having him look at me so intimately.

"I wasn't easy on you last night. It's been way too long."

I yawn and revel in my weak legs and sore abdomen. "Last night was perfect. I'm sore in all the right places."

He scratches his jaw, letting his eyes move over my face before dropping to my chest.

"The past three months were tough. Especially because I wasn't able to be with you like this. I'm so happy to finally be clean and healthy—away from everything—and ready to start over with you. And, of course, you're amazing tits."

I laugh, and he reaches for a teacup and hands it to me. "Vanilla Rooibos Tea. You're favourite."

"Nope." I shake my head, motioning for him to put it back down. I want both hands free. "You're my favourite."

He grins, slowly brushing his hands through the ends of my hair, smoothing it down my spine.

I shiver at the emotion in his eyes, how his fingers set off sparks that settle warm and heavy between my thighs.

I reach to touch his bare chest and press my thumb into the groove of his oblique, then down along the flat planes of his stomach and lower.

He hisses in a breath when I slip a finger under the waistband of his boxers.

"Come here." I taste his lips, sucking on his tongue, swallowing his sounds.

I can feel the hard bulge between his legs against the wetness of my sex.

I want to feel him all around me.

I reach between us to stroke his cock.

"Can we make some time for fun before breakfast? I don't think I'll be able to focus the rest of the day if you deny me."

"Fuck, Quinn," he whispers, sucking on my jaw.

"Is that a yes?"

"Do I have a choice?" He slides his hands over my ass, his hips rocking.

"You don't want to feel me?" I nip at his neck.

"You are a fucking devious girl."

I reach down and move my fingers away from his length, and he takes hold of me, rubbing his length over and around my drenched skin.

I groan into his neck.

And then I guide him there, holding, waiting for him to move my hips.

I shift forward and back again, feeling the subtle give of his body when the head of his cock slides inside.

I move deeper, the tiniest bit into him, just until I feel myself stretch around his shaft, and I stop, groaning.

"Fast," I say.

"Now."

"Yes, ma'am."

I expected to feel full from him, but I was unprepared for how hard, deep, and amazingly right he felt. I'm dizzy from the feel of him, the sensation of his pulse beating all around me, muscles flexing, of his low, hungry sounds in my ear telling me how much he loves me.

"Fuck," he grunts, thrusting himself in and out of me. "I don't...I can't fuck like this yet. It's too good. I'll come fast."

I hold my breath, hands gripping his arms so tight it hurts. "It's okay," I manage as he breathes in a gust. "You always hold out so long. I want it to feel so good you can't last."

"You're so evil," he hisses.

I laugh, turning my head to capture his mouth in a kiss.

I'm about to come too, just from looking down at where he's buried inside me.

He slides out—I revel in how wet I am from him— and he inches his way back in, and then again, and again.

And fuck, I'm ruined. Ruined for sex with anyone else, ruined for any other man, because I can't even imagine being this way with anyone else.

Ever.

"Listen up..." His voice is hoarse, breaths coming out in sharp spikes. "You're my everything. You are why I am here and ready to live fully again."

His voice is so faint that I press my ear to his lips to hear what else he might say.

But all I can make out in my haze of sensation are broken whispered sentences with words like hard and skin, and I wish I could stay inside you when I come.

It's the last idea that did me in that made me think about him coming inside me, kissing him until he grew fevered and urgent again and then growing hard with his tensing all around me. My body trembles and explodes into earth-shattering bliss as I moan out his name, clenching all around his cock. He moves harder, holding on to my hip, finding that perfect rhythm that doesn't jolt the bed frame, doesn't bounce the wooden headboard into the wall. The pace where he tries to hold on... but it's a losing battle, and it's barely been a few minutes.

"Oh shit, Mittens," he groans. He pulls out, jerking his cock hard in his fist as I reach between his legs, pressing my fingers on his balls as he comes all over my breasts.

We are both breathing heavily, recovering from the electricity and passion between us when I sit up, feeling the sheet slip down my body, the cool air reminding me of just how completely naked we are.

I give myself no time to think as I crawl over and straddle him, my thighs bracketing his hips.

The air in the room seemed to condense, and Cash swallowed, eyes wide as I leaned in and kissed his lips.

I bit back a moan at the way he flexed his thighs and rocked his hips upward the tiniest bit.

I look down, "I love your arms." I brush my fingertips along them and down to his elbows.

"My arms, huh?" he asks, voice warm and still raspy.

I continue down his chest, biting back a triumphant smile over his breathing spikes, jagged and excited, under my touch. "I love your chest."

He laughs. "Likewise."

I look away, not wanting him to see the thoughts simmering in the back of my mind— us together forever thoughts.

His doctors cleared cash to return to everyday life, and I want to believe he will stay clean.

We are perfect together.

Our love is perfect.

He's good for me despite what I believed only nine months ago. I feel sexy and unhinged. I feel wanted. I refuse to bog down my feelings with worries about what happened in the past or, inevitably, what could happen.

From now on, we will be a team, and I will be here to help him through this. And if I know anything about Cash, he values family. Hopefully, he can see how he's become my family and that I am here for him wholeheartedly.

Cash sits up beneath me and sucks on my neck before moving his mouth to the shell of my ear. "I love every minute of seductive Quinn, but I'm starving."

I let my head fall back as I laughed. "And where do you suggest we go?"

"This little diner up the road. I know you are going to love it."

Goosebumps exploded across my body, and my tea was forgotten again. "Let's shower up and hit the road."

_____________

Any doubts I have about whether Cash's choice for breakfast would be a success, maybe what he told me in the shower was all hype, are put to rest as I walk into the diner.

The little bell over the door jingles as I step inside, and I stop in my tracks, eyes wide at the crowd filling the small diner.

And not just older adults or locals like Cash, but families with children and obvious tourists with fanny packs and cameras.

There are people spanning every age bracket.

The diner isn't very fancy on the inside. It's outdated and somewhat tacky.

The floor is linoleum and a weird tan colour.

The walls are stark white with abstract paintings in random places.

Navy-colored booths with brown tabletops line the perimeters.

A bar flows from one side of the room to the other, just like in the movies, with a kitchen seen through a tiny opening behind the bar.

"Cash? Is that you, sweet pea?" I turn to the voice on my right and see a tall, busty, middle-aged woman standing at the register. She flicks her salt and pepper hair out of her weathered face before she wraps her arms around Cash's neck.

"Bonnie!" Cash chuckles as he holds her in a warm embrace. "I was hoping I'd see you here."

"You look fantastic, sweet pea. What are you doing in Thompson?" Bonnie says, watching me closely.

"Thanks, Bonnie." Cash grins. "You look fantastic too."

"Isn't it still hockey season?" she asks.

"Yeah, but the Tornadoes didn't make it to the playoffs. Plus, I've been off the ice for the past three months-"

"Oh, yeah," Bonnie says. "I heard some terrible news about you. You suffered a concussion and were sent to rehab? You've got that drinking under control, I hope."

"Yeah, I'm doing much better," he says, and I can see a flash of relief on her face. "But I'd like to introduce you to someone. Bonnie. This is my girlfriend, Quinn. Quinn. This is Bonnie. A good friend of my mother's."

Bonnie gives me a quick once-over, then extends her hand, "It's very nice to meet you, Quinn."

"Likewise." I shake her hand.

"And I wasn't a good friend of Marie's. I was her best friend. I helped raise this little toot and his brother Cory." She maneuvers out of our handshake and then leans over to Cash. "So the rumours I heard must be true then...no more Daniela?"

"Word travels quickly," Cash says.

"It does when you've got the inside scoop from Anna." Bonnie looks back at me and nods. "Wow. She's real pretty, sweet pea. Almost too pretty for you."

Cash winks at me. "She's too pretty for me."

Bonnie grabs two menus from behind the register with a smile, and her gaze shifts between the two of us. "Let me get you a table in my section."

We follow Bonnie to the far right corner near the exit.

"What can I start you off with? Coffee? Tea?" she asks as we slide into the same side of the booth.

"Two teas, please." Cash tells her.

We never did end up drinking the pot of rooibos tea he made this morning.

"You betcha. Coming right up."

Once Bonnie is out of sight, I turn and face Cash. "Bonnie seems nice. Is that why you brought me here? To meet her?" I ask with a cheeky grin.

But he doesn't smile back. Cash seems lost in thought. He fiddles with the salt and pepper shakers, looking out the window away from me. "Bonnie is not why I brought you here."

"Spill, Brooks."

"This diner is important to me." He turns to face me and reaches forward to enfold my hand.

"The last time we were in Thompson, I wanted to bring you here, but it didn't work out. I grew up in this diner. My mother worked here with Bonnie her entire life. I used to sit up at the bar with Cory after school, right there." He points to the stools closest to our table and sighs lost in the memory. "Bonnie would feed us grilled cheese sandwiches and help us with homework when my mother was on shift. This place makes the best eggs Benedict in the entire world."

"Wow. That's a bold statement." I squeeze his hand, telling him I understand.

"It's my mother's recipe. She was an excellent cook." His voice is stronger.

My eyes slide over an item on the menu called Brooks' Burger. "Is there seriously a burger named after you?" I tease, flipping the menu around and pointing to the item.

Cash laughs. "My mother worked here. I'm a hometown hero. Of course, there is a burger named after me."

I shake my head, laughing too. "This diner may be important to you, but I think you brought me here to impress me."

"I've already impressed you enough." He wiggles his eyebrows at me. "Last night...this morning... twice."

"Two teas for the happy couple."

I blink back up and meet Bonnie's gaze. It occurs to me that I'm sitting with my legs in Cash's lap, his hand resting a little too comfortably on my thigh.

Bonnie gives Cash a knowing smirk, "Eggs Benedict, sweet pea?"

"Yes, please."

I order the same thing, and Bonnie takes the menus.

"You know," she says, "when Cash was a little boy, he was so damn sweet. He was always picking wildflowers for his mother, and every day after school, he'd sit up at that bar like an angel with Cory, waiting for her to finish her shift. Even as a teenager, he'd come and help his mother clean up behind the bar and make drinks so she didn't have to work so hard. You've got a real good man here. I'm happy to see him looking so happy."

My heart swells. Cash blushes for the first time, and I register that while he might not look like he was paying attention, he heard every word.

"Okay, Bonnie," he says. "Thank you very much for pumping my tires."

Bonnie chuckles. "Did he bring you to the Brooks Arena yet?"

"Brooks Arena? Is everything here named after you?" I'm the one wiggling my eyebrows at him now.

"Okay, Bonnie—"

She cuts him off. "The arena he had built for the kids of Thompson. Cash hasn't brought you there yet?"

"Bonnie, please. Come on," Cash begs.

"No," Bonnie continues. "She needs to know what a great thing you did. The year Cash was drafted to the NHL, he built an arena in Thompson. Before it was built, all the kids in Thompson had to travel into St. Johns to play competitive hockey because we didn't have an arena here."

My eyes make the circuit of his entire flaming red face. "Why do you neglect to tell me all this stuff?" I scold him.

"It's no big deal." He shoots daggers at Bonnie. "The kids needed the ice, and I had the money."

"I need to see this arena." I close the distance between us, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Let's get your eggs, Benedict, so Cash can show you what an amazing thing he did for this town." Bonnie winks at him.

"Thank you, Bonnie," he mutters as she disappears behind the bar.

We remain there momentarily—my lips against his shoulder, his face in my hair—before Cash remembers where we are. He straightens, and I feel the absence of him immediately.

"Anything else I should know about?" I take a sip of my tea.

"Oh, yeah." Cash places a kiss on the top of my forehead. "I should probably tell you... Bonnie's a loudmouth."

_____________

Cash's limo driver pulls up to the arena five minutes outside of Thompson, and I'm already antsy to open the door and check out the inside.

When the limo comes to a stop, I step out and cross the damp grass with Cash following behind me, right up to the sign that reads: brOOKS ARENA with the following quote underneath: Practice puts brains in your muscles – Cash Brooks.

I smile to myself and then turn to face him. "So this is it...Brooks Arena."

He runs a hand through his hair. "Yup. This is it. I didn't name it that, you know. It wasn't a condition to get the money."

"I know," I say, smiling up at him.

His blue eyes dip down to my mouth as if he's considering kissing me. He looks giddy now, proud, and damn sexy in the sunlight. "Ready?"

"Yeah," I say, giggling.

He nods, opens the door, and walks inside, leading me through an entryway, past a concession stand, through another set of doors and into an ice hockey rink with at least enough seating for two hundred people.

I turn around the arena to see the wall to my right, filled with framed hockey jerseys.

Each jersey belongs to Cash, for every team he has ever played on from childhood to adulthood.

The last jersey hung at the far end of the wall is his Tornadoes jersey.

I want to reach up, cup his face, and kiss him like I've never kissed anyone before. Instead, I say, "I think what you've done for your town is amazing. You did something very selfless and inspiring."

He shrugs. "I grew up with my mother having to drive me two hours into St. John's for me to play competitive hockey. I know the struggle. The kids in this town deserved their arena. I'm happy I was able to give it to them."

When he straightens, I can see a hint of a blush on his face beneath the shadow of his baseball cap. "Since we're here...want to go for a skate?"

"We don't have skates," I say.

"They have a skate rental." He nods toward the concession area. "Come on, Mittens. You owe me a skate."

Cash leads me to a storage room door and pulls a key out from his pocket. He disappears inside and reappears moments later with two pairs of skates and a big smile.

The arena is empty, the lights above the rink are dimmed, and the heaters around the bleachers are turned off.

It's so cold, my toes are numb. Cash pulls me onto the ice, and the second the blades of my skate touch down on the icy surface, I wobble forward, and he catches me with ease in his strong arms.

He chuckles. "When's the last time you went for a skate?"

"When I was a child." I steady myself against the boards.

"Your dad was a player. She never taught you to skate?"

"I think that's obvious. I'm scared I'm going to wipe out."

He watches me for a moment, playfully smirking. "I won't let you fall." He skates to me and presses his palms down on the boards, caging me against the glass.

He kisses the top of my head like I'm a little girl. I slide my hands up his stomach, his chest, and his shoulder, pulling myself up his body until I can press a little kiss to his smiling mouth.

"Come on," he says. "Hold my hand. I'll go slow."

I clutch tight, and Cash keeps his promise as he slowly guides me around the ice.

He twirls me, pulls me, and spins me, giving me tiny kisses whenever he can sneak one on my cheek.

We laugh at how pathetic I am on skates, and when he picks up speed, I squeal, and he laughs, loving every minute of it.

Eventually, I gain enough confidence for Cash to let go of me so I can skate off independently.

I love the fun and flirty air between us, how he watches me, eyes steady and lids growing heavy.

I skate around him, shaking my booty in an attempt to tease him. Cash skates up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He kisses my neck, and I spin around to face him.

"There's something I need to tell you," he says.

I watch him reach under the hem of my shirt, and I close my eyes as his hand glides up the inside of my ribcage, around to my breast. I gasp when he gently caresses my breast.

"I've been holding it in all day..." He circles my nipple. "Waiting for the perfect moment."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Yeah," he breathes. He reaches under my shirt with his other hand and squeezes his fingers around my hip. "My agent called me this morning. Before I left for rehab, I told him to see about the possibility of a trade. The Boston Hacker agreed on a deal."

"Seriously?"

He looks up at me and smiles a genuine smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "Seriously, Mittens. I'm moving to Boston."

"Wait?" I swallow. "I don't have to transfer?"

His expression straightens, and he exclaims, "I was never going to let you transfer."

Reeling from this, I slide my hands into his hair and pull him into me. "This is the best news ever."

"This is a fresh start for us." He tilts his chin to look down at me. "I'm having all my stuff shipped to Boston."

I squeal and kiss him. "I'm so happy."

I bite my lip, wanting to unload my angst about the last three months: worrying about his recovery, using school as a distraction, and then becoming so absorbed in the uncertainty of our future that I feared I would want so much more than we could manage.

And now he's telling me he was traded to Boston. I close my eyes, thinking about my education and how much I'm ready for this fresh start and for us to be together despite our obstacles.

Now, we have the easiest path forward.

Living in the same city makes a real relationship between us possible.

"Will you move in with me?" he asks, squeezing his hand around my hips so I'll look up at him.

"Yes!" More than anything, I wish I wasn't wearing skates so I could jump up and down with joy.

He kisses my jaw. "As soon as we get back, we'll start house hunting. You can pick out whatever house you want."

"For real?"

"Yes, for real." Cash's eyes seem to gleam with victory.

I feel like I'm the one who won. I pull his face to my lips, deeply kissing every inch of his beautiful mouth—and he kisses me back passionately. I can't wait to start our new life.

Together.