Chapter 23
The soft light of the morning filtered through the curtains, casting a muted glow across the bedroom. I blinked slowly, taking in the quiet, the stillness… and the warmth of her.
Harper was curled against me, her back pressed to my chest, my arm draped over her like I couldn’t bear to let go.
Because I couldn’t.
Her hair was a little messy, tickling my jaw, and I breathed her in slowly, not wanting to move. Not wanting to break the spell.
The night before was still fresh in my mind–every sound she made, every way her body moved under mine. The things she whispered when she thought I wasn’t listening. It hadn’t just been sex. It had been something deeper. Something I hadn’t let myself want in a long time.
Especially not with someone like her–someone kind, someone strong, someone real.
I thought about the words I hadn’t said.
How I’d only told her part of the story last night.
I didn’t tell her that my dad and I don’t speak anymore.
That after my mom died, he looked me in the eye and said it was my fault–that if she hadn’t been on the road to my hockey game, she’d still be alive.
And yeah, deep down I know it isn’t true, but back then?
That grief and guilt and white-hot anger stuck to me like a second skin.
I let it twist me into someone I didn’t like, someone I didn’t even recognize.
It took years to crawl out of that place, and even now, dragging it into the light felt like ripping open a wound I’d spent too long trying to stitch shut.
So I didn’t say any of that.
I just tightened my arm around her, keeping her close like I could hold the moment steady.
She shifted gently, trying not to wake me, but I felt the moment she slipped out of bed. Cold air rushed in where her warmth had been, and I instinctively reached out to the empty space she left behind.
The mattress creaked as she padded out of the room, and I sat there in the quiet, staring at the ceiling, wondering why the hell it felt so easy with her and so impossible at the same time.
Was last night a mistake?
No. It couldn’t have been. It had felt too good… too right. Like for the first time in years, I’d let myself breathe.
Harper deserved more than this, though–more than me.
And if I was honest with myself, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to give that to her. I’d spent so long locking everything down, keeping people at arm’s length, that I didn’t know if I could ever let someone all the way in again.
And yet, with her, I wanted to. God help me, I wanted to.
But wanting and being capable were two different things, and the space between them was dangerous. For her. For me.
By the time I heard her soft footsteps returning, I was still in the middle of that argument with myself, no closer to an answer.
When she returned, I was leaning back against the headboard, running a hand through my hair to clear my thoughts. She looked at me and smiled–just soft, a little shy. And it knocked the breath out of me.
Her hair was slightly mused from sleep, falling in loose waves around her face.
She wore my shirt from last night, the hem brushing mid-thigh, buttons undone, and the sleeves pushed up like she’d done it a thousand times.
Her cheeks were still a little flushed and her eyes held something I couldn’t name, but felt like gravity.
She climbed back into bed, the mattress dipping beneath her, and before either of us could speak, our mouths found each other.
It started slow–tentative, tender–but when she sighed against my lips, it lit something in me. That hunger. That ache.
And I kissed her like I needed her to believe that last night hadn’t been a mistake. Because it wasn’t.
It couldn’t be. Not when it already felt like something I couldn’t let go of.
My hands slid under the hem of the shirt she wore, fingers tracing the curve of her waist. She didn’t stop me, instead, she lifted her arms out wordlessly, and I pulled the fabric off of her, revealing soft skin and bare curves that made my breath catch.
“Jesus, Harper,” I murmured, my voice rough with awe. “You’re beautiful.”
She looked away almost instantly, eyes darting toward the window like she was trying to pretend she hadn’t heard me. Like the words made her uncomfortable. Like she didn’t believe them.
That didn’t sit right with me.
I reached up, gently catching her chin between my fingers and tilting her face back to mine.
“Don’t look away,” I said softly. “You need to hear it. You need to believe it.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, uncertain and vulnerable.
“Every part of you,” I continued, brushing my thumb across her jaw. “You’re so damn beautiful, Harper. I wish you could see what I see.”
Her breath hitched, and she blinked rapidly, like she didn’t know whether to kiss me or cry.
I let my mouth follow where my hands had been, brushing kisses along her collarbone, down the slope of her chest. I wanted to taste her.
To memorize every sound she made. I nipped gently at her nipple, and the way her body arched off the bed in response nearly undid me.
Her hands tangled in my hair, anchoring me to her, her voice a breathless whisper.
“Ryan… please…”
The way she said my name–low, needy, full of trust–made something primal stir inside me.
“Tell me what you need,” I murmured against her skin, kissing down her ribs, across the soft line of her stomach. “I want to give you everything.”
She met my eyes, her voice trembling. “You. I need you.”
And hell, I was already hers.
I slid my hand between her thighs, the heat of her hitting me like a wave. When I eased a finger inside her, she gasped–head falling back, hips rocking against my hand. God, she was already so wet. So ready.
A second finger joined the first, my thumb brushing in slow, teasing circles as my other hand moved to her chest, fingers grazing her nipple until she arched off the bed, clinging to me.
“Ryan–” her voice was a breathless plea, and I didn’t make her wait.
I shifted lower, pressing a kiss just above her hip before burying my mouth between her thighs.
The moment my tongue met her, she let out a cry that made my chest tighten with need.
Her hands tangled in my hair, her thighs trembling around me as I drew another gasp–then a full, unrestrained moan–from her lips.
She was unraveling for me, and I wanted to watch every second of it.
And then–
Ding dong.
We both froze.
Her body stiffened beneath me. I lifted my head, blinking in disbelief.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, resting my forehead against her thigh with a groan.
She groaned, covering her face. “Oh my God… that’s probably Mrs. Knox dropping Connor off early.”
We moved in unison, scrambling out of bed like teenagers caught doing something they shouldn’t.
Harper lunged for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from the floor, yanking them on and dragging her fingers through her hair in a wild attempt to make herself look somewhat presentable before rushing downstairs.
I heard the front door open and her voice float up the staircase–bright, overly casual.
“Hi! Thanks so much again for having him, Mrs. Knox.”
Mrs. Knox’s warm reply followed, along with Connor’s unmistakable excitement.
I was mid-panic, staring around the room like a fugitive. For a split second, I looked toward the bedroom window, mentally calculating the drop to the ground below. Could I make it if I jumped? Probably.
Would I break something in the process? Also probably.
Still… it might be less painful than whatever awkward explanation would unfold downstairs.
My clothes from last night were in a crumpled pile by the foot of the bed, but just as I reached for them, I hear Connor’s voice drift up:
“Hey… is that Coach Ryan’s truck in the driveway?”
Harper’s response was immediate–and flustered.
“Uh… oh! Um… I think… maybe? I mean, it could be. He was, um–he was…”
I snorted. Solid cover, Harper. Real smooth.
I grabbed the nearest thing I could find: an oversized gym shirt of hers and a pair of baggy sweats. On her, they were probably comfy and loose. On me? The shirt clung to my chest like second skin, and the sweats hit me a couple inches above the ankle, barely staying on my hips.
Jesus.
Still, it was better than showing up in my clothes from last night, or even worse, shirtless like I’d just wandered off the cover of a romance novel.
I took a breath and headed downstairs, trying to summon what little dignity I had left.
“The bathroom sink’s fixed,” I said as I reached the bottom step, voice completely deadpan.
Connor’s face lit up like Christmas morning. “Coach Ryan! You’re here! Did you sleep over?!”
Mrs. Knox was definitely staring at me–eyebrows raised, lips twitching. Then she turned to Harper with a slow, knowing smile and the subtlest eyebrow wiggle I’d ever seen.
“Thanks again, Mrs. Knox,” Harper smiled, visibly relaxing.
“It’s my pleasure,” Mrs. Knox said kindly, her eyes flicking between us again before she added, “I’ll see you all later.”
She gave Harper a small nod–one I wasn't supposed to notice–before heading back toward her house.
Harper exhaled, her shoulders sagging just a little, but Connor wasn’t done yet. He tugged on my hand, his excitement spilling over. “Ryan, can you stay? Please? Hang out for a bit.”
I glanced at Harper, searching her face for an answer. Her eyes met mine, wide yet calm, and then she gave me a small shrug–like she was handing me the reins. Whatever I decided, she’d go along with.
My chest tightened a little at that. Before I could say anything, though, Connor lit up like he’d already made the decision for me. “We should go skating! The arena is open and there is never anyone there in the mornings.”
I let out a quiet laugh, still trying to catch up with how quickly the situation had flipped from panic to plans. “Skating, huh?”
Connor nodded furiously. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”