Page 23 of Slap Shot (Charm City Chill #3)

H eather

The elevator ride to Oliver's apartment seemed endless. Heather stood beside him, close enough to feel the heat from his body, but neither of them had spoken since leaving the police station. Her hands were shaking—not from fear anymore, but from rage.

She was furious with him. The kind of bone-deep fury that had nothing to do with work and everything to do with the sick terror she'd felt when she'd realized he was walking into Kai's trap alone.

Oliver's keys rattled as he unlocked his door. His hands were shaking too.

The moment they stepped inside, Charlie launched himself at Oliver with desperate relief. Sixty pounds of golden fur and unconditional love, whining and covering Oliver's face with kisses.

"Hey, buddy," Oliver murmured, dropping to his knees. "I'm okay."

Watching Oliver with his dog, seeing his shoulders finally relax, something cracked open in Heather's chest. All the anger and fear she'd been holding back came pouring out.

"What the hell were you thinking?" The words exploded out of her. "You could have been killed, Oliver. He had a knife. He was waiting for you. And you walked in there alone."

Oliver looked up from Charlie, surprise and guilt crossing his face. "Heather—"

"No. Don't." She was pacing now, terror converting to fury. "You left Charlie behind, which told me exactly how dangerous you thought it was going to be. Then you went anyway. Without backup, without a plan, without even telling me where you were going."

"I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" Heather whirled to face him. "I'm a grown woman with advanced degrees in cybersecurity and martial arts training. I don't need protection from my boyfriend. I need honesty. I need partnership. I need you to trust me enough not to go off on suicide missions."

The word 'boyfriend' hung in the air between them. She'd just defined their relationship in the middle of an argument.

Oliver stood slowly. Charlie was right there at his side. "You're right. I should have waited for backup. Should have coordinated with you instead of going alone."

"Damn right you should have." Some of the fight was going out of her as she saw the genuine remorse in his expression.

"Do you have any idea what it was like, watching your location move toward that building?

Knowing you were walking into a confrontation with someone who'd already betrayed you once? "

"I was scared too," Oliver said. "Not of Kai. I was scared of what he might do to you if I didn't end this. Scared that my past would keep destroying everyone I care about."

Her anger was shifting into something else. Something deeper and more vulnerable. "And what if he'd killed you? What if I'd arrived at that building to find you bleeding out on the floor? Did you think about that?"

"No," Oliver admitted. "I was thinking about protecting you. About making sure Kai couldn't hurt you the way he hurt me."

The honesty in his voice, the way he was looking at her, made something flutter in her chest. This was the problem with Oliver Chenofski. He made her feel things she'd sworn she wouldn't feel again. Made her care about someone in ways that left her exposed.

Made her fall in love with him despite every rational reason to keep her distance.

The realization hit her hard. She was in love with him. Completely, irrevocably in love with a man who played hockey and had panic attacks and thought the best way to protect people was to face danger alone.

"I can't do this if you're going to keep making unilateral decisions," she said, her voice softer now but no less serious. "I can't be with someone who thinks protecting me means shutting me out."

"I know. You're right." Oliver stepped closer. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way the day's events had worn him down to something raw and honest. "I'm not used to having someone who wants to stand with me instead of being protected from my problems."

"Well, get used to it." The words came out forceful. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

"I want you with me." The way he said it made it clear they weren't just talking about work anymore.

Charlie chose that moment to wedge himself between them, apparently deciding that if his humans were going to have emotional conversations, he needed to be part of them. The interruption made them both laugh.

"I was so scared I was going to lose you," Heather admitted, scratching behind Charlie's ears.

"When I realized you'd gone to confront Kai alone, all I could think about was your first panic attack, how you looked when Charlie had to ground you.

I kept imagining you in that room with someone who'd already hurt you, and I couldn't..."

She trailed off, not ready to finish that sentence. Not ready to admit how completely her world had reorganized itself around this man and his dog.

"You're not going to lose me," Oliver said. Something in his voice made her look up. "I'm not going anywhere, Heather. Not unless you decide you don't want me around anymore."

The vulnerability in his expression, the way he was offering her his heart despite everything they'd been through, made her chest tight.

"Good," she said simply. "Because I think I'm in love with you, and it would be really inconvenient if you got yourself killed right now."

Oliver's eyes widened. For a moment he looked like she'd just told him he'd won the lottery and been struck by lightning at the same time.

"You think you're in love with me?"

"I know I'm in love with you," she corrected. It was easier to say once she'd admitted it to herself. "I've been falling for weeks, probably since that first night when you trusted me enough to tell me about your past. But today, when I thought I might lose you..."

She didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to. Oliver was already moving toward her, cupping her face in his hands.

"I love you too," he said, his voice rough. "I've been afraid to say it because everything in my life that I've cared about has been taken away. But you make me want to be brave enough to risk it anyway."

When he kissed her, it was soft and desperate and full of all the fear and relief and love they'd been carrying around all day. Charlie woofed softly beside them.

"So where does this leave us?" Heather asked when they finally broke apart, her forehead resting against his.

"It leaves us figuring out how to be together without letting our jobs or my past or your trust issues get in the way," Oliver said, smiling at her.

"Those are some pretty significant obstacles."

"Good thing we're both smarter than average."

Heather laughed, feeling lighter than she had all day. Kai was in custody, Oliver was safe, and they'd both survived their first real fight as a couple. The organization would need time to heal from the attacks, but for the first time in weeks, she thought they could handle whatever came next.

"Come on," she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the couch. "Let's order some food and pretend to be normal people for a few hours. Charlie looks like he could use some attention, and I could use some time where the biggest threat we're facing is deciding between pizza and Chinese food."

“Later,” Oliver said. When he kissed her, it was soft and desperate and full of all the fear and relief and love they'd been carrying around all day.

The gentle press of mouths became more urgent, more consuming.

All the fear at nearly losing him, all the overwhelming relief that he was here and whole and hers, needed an outlet.

She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, seeing her own desperate need reflected there. "I need you," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion rather than desire. "I need to feel that you're really here, that you're safe."

Oliver's eyes darkened with understanding. This wasn't about lust or stolen moments or forbidden attraction. This was about life and death and love declared in the aftermath of terror.

"Charlie, bed," Oliver said, never taking his eyes off Heather's face.

The golden retriever went obediently to his bed in the corner and settled down with a contented sigh.

Oliver's hands framed her face with reverent care, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones. "I'm here," he said softly. "I'm safe. I'm yours."

The last word broke something open inside her chest. She rose on her toes and kissed him again, pouring all her fear and love and desperate relief into the connection. Oliver responded immediately, his arms wrapping around her and lifting her against him.

"Bedroom," she breathed against his lips.

He carried her down the hall to his room, setting her down gently beside his bed. The space was distinctly masculine, dark furniture, clean lines, a single photograph of him and Charlie on the nightstand.

They undressed each other slowly, reverently.

There was no desperate tearing of clothes, no frantic fumbling with buttons.

Every touch was deliberate, meaningful. When Oliver's shirt fell away, Heather pressed her palms flat against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her hands.

"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered, tracing the familiar scars that told the story of his hockey career. "When I realized you'd gone to face Kai alone, I thought—"

"Shh." Oliver caught her hands in his, bringing them to his lips to press soft kisses to her palms. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

When her bra fell away, he cupped her breasts reverently, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they peaked into tight buds. "So beautiful," he murmured, bending to take one into his mouth, sucking gently while his tongue swirled around the sensitive tip. "So perfect, and so mine."

The possessive words sent heat flooding through her core, making her pussy clench with need.