Page 45 of Unmasking Love (D.C. Renegades #1)

Aiden

I blink my eyes open and discover a dark room. I drifted off with Harper in my arms and I’m convinced it’s the only place in the world she belongs. I know there are deeper fears and insecurities in her but I am in no hurry to expose them.

Not because I’m afraid or I’m avoiding them.

But because I want to spend my entire life getting to know Harper better. A little more every day.

I slide out of bed and piss. The sea sickness is gone and I’ve got a game tonight so I need to rehydrate as best I can. With the coconut water in hand, I take a seat in the corner and open up my phone.

I’ve missed a hundred and seven texts since I last checked it before the ill-fated snorkeling attempt.

No surprise they’re all from the Big Guns Team Chat. I skim through the highlights.

DUNCAN:

Can your dick get sunburned?

brYSON:

What would sunscreen on a dick look like? That really white stuff? Freaky.

EMMETT:

Yes your dick can get sunburned. Best to leave it in your trunks on this trip.

I scroll further.

FELIX:

Is Young Gun coming out tonight?

CROSBY:

He’s sick.

FELIX:

SICK?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Does he need a doctor?

CROSBY:

I ran into Luke in the lobby who said he was sea sick. Harper is helping him rehydrate I guess.

FELIX:

Fucking dehydrates you so she better not be fixing it that way.

Shit. We’re going to need to call up a beer league guy for backup.

CROSBY:

Nah, Luke had coconut water and ginger ale. Aiden will be fine.

I nod along and mentally thank Crosby for getting the information right. Still I send a one-off text to Felix and assure him that I’m recovering and will be ready to play tomorrow. I’m getting a good night’s sleep and replenishing my fluids.

Harper rolls over so I climb back into bed.

“Hey you, how are you feeling?” She asks, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“I’m feeling so much better. Thank you.” I kiss her head and settle in. She curls into me and places her hand over my heart.

It’s the only spot on the coat of arms tattoo that hasn’t been filled in yet. I have a pond on my right pec, a goalie stick down the middle with net details behind it. Then under the pond are the logos of the teams I’ve been on over the years.

It started with the hockey stick but then as I went in to get more details added the tattoo artist showed me a sketch of a shield.

He said he had worked on it for fun after I left.

Together we added different details to the design and I’ve been going back to see him when I visit home.

He keeps asking if I want a tattoo anywhere else and I say no.

The reason I started this was to mask my scar. Take the attention away from my physical wound and turn it into something impressive. Something worthy of attention.

But every time he sketched something for the quadrant right over my heart I couldn’t follow through. None of the animals felt right. None of the words. No to the compass. The candle.

As Harper’s hand rests there I realize I could never commit to a design because I needed to leave it open for her.

My heart is in her hands.

Fucking might be dehydrating but what about making love?

Harper's eyes are closed but I slowly caress her shoulder and she hums. My fingertips travel the path of her curves.

Down her shoulder and back, up along her forearm.

Dancing lightly to her breast, over her dusky nipple that gets firmer with each pass.

She squirms closer to me and so I extend my circle.

Down her shoulder, her back, her ass, her hip, her arm, her breasts. Slowly transitioning from just my fingertips to my entire palm. Her breathing picks up and there’s no way she’s still sleeping but her eyes have remained closed.

I roll her back and continue the circles but on both sides of her body. Up over her shoulders, down her sides, circle her hips and then push up her abdomen to her tits. I grasp them this time and knead. Harper responds by arching her back and her core drags across my thigh.

She’s soaked.

“My pretty little Harper,” I say as I rub my thigh against her, delivering the friction I know she craves. “Where should I start tonight?”

“You’ve already started,” she whispers as her hands travel up my biceps.

Her eyes are still closed but I want to watch her as we climb and fall together. I want her to watch me. I reach up and cradle her head in my hand before lowering down for a gentle, feather light kiss.

She whines when I pull away and I smirk.

Harper wants me as much as I want her.

“Eyes open Harp,” I tell her and her brown eyes fly open and latch onto mine. I notch myself at her entrance and start to push in. Her hips curl up to meet mine and I watch her fight the urge to roll her eyes backwards as I fill her.

“Aiden, yes, you feel so good.” She says breathlessly as her hands skate down my spine. I begin thrusting when I can’t take simply being inside her any longer and with each pump the words I know she isn’t ready to hear climb closer to the surface.

I hook one of her legs over my arm and drive my point into her without saying a word.

I fall to an elbow and press kisses to her collarbone without a sound.

I press tight circles on her clit and listen to her squeaks without opening my mouth.

If I do, I'll say it.

I love you.

This is more than fucking, I am making love with you.

You’re my heart, Harper Daniels. In the few months I’ve known you I have felt more like myself than I have in years. I have felt confident, comfortable, and like I belong.

My hips buck wildly as this track plays in my head, only for me.

Someday I’ll tell her. I’ll share that coming home to her after my day and talking about things besides hockey makes me a better player. It allows me to relax. Soon I’ll tell her that I want to build a life with her. That I want her to rely on me as much as I rely on her.

Her insides flutter and my balls tighten. I drop my head to her shoulder and I mouth my words onto her flushed skin and pull her body close to mine as I empty everything I am into her.

I p ull out of her but won’t let our connection fray. I keep her tucked into my side and her hand falls to my chest again. My heart beats wildly and while she basks in the afterglow I cower because it feels like I have a secret bigger than my medical history.

I love her and I can’t tell her.

Instead I say, “Let’s skip the visit with your mom tomorrow.” I can tell her I love her in other ways, without using the words. I can show her with my actions that I would be lost without her. I can demonstrate that I listen and understand what she’s saying, even if she doesn’t say it out loud.

But as she blinks up at me and her smile grows wide I worry my secret love for her will become hard for me to keep under wraps.