Chapter 20 Lucas
lucas
I love having her here in my space. Especially on days like today, ones where the happy outweighs the anger.
I knew if I came back alone, I’d end up at the bottom of a bottle.
And I guess that alone is progress of some sort.
I made us a snack, then we curled up on the corner of my couch, recapping our favorite parts of the night.
She fits in seamlessly with our group of friends. Her snark gives Abby’s a run for her money, but she’s definitely on her way to turning the dynamic duo into a trio. I’ve never heard a more beautiful sound than the three of them laughing over some dog video Hannah had found.
Her feet are resting in my lap, so I dig my thumbs into the arch, knowing just how hard skating is on those muscles when you first start.
Her eyes widen before she lets out a groan.
“That feels nice.” Her head lolls back against the armrest on the opposite end of the couch, lashes fluttering closed as a soft sigh escapes her lips.
Her body relaxes under my touch, turning her into a boneless heap of beauty.
A faint smile grows, slow, soft, and utterly content.
I move to the other foot, swearing she’s asleep when one eye pops open, “I’ve never had a foot massage before.”
I chuckle, “I used to rub my own feet all the time when I first started playing. These tiny muscles get one hell of a workout.”
“Hmm.” She melts further into the couch.
I move from her feet to her calves, massaging relaxing circles as I take her in.
She’ll never know the peace it brings me to watch her chest rise and fall, the way her lips part, as she subconsciously runs her tongue across the seam before shutting them once again, to see the fight literally drain out of her, taking every bit of comfort I’m offering.
She shivers, so I reach over the back of the couch, pulling the Hawks sweatshirt she had on earlier from the back of one of the island chairs, “Arms up.”
She rolls her eyes, but sits up and raises her arms above her head, making a tiny sliver of skin peek out from below her shirt. “Yes, Dad,” she drawls, rolling her eyes before I pull it over her head.
Heat blooms in my gut, traveling through my veins like lava. That’s certainly something I didn’t know I’d like to hear from her. I lean in, placing my mouth right next to her ear and whisper, “Try, daddy.”
I clock the moment her breath catches, her teeth dig into her plush bottom lip, blinking a few times before she reins herself back in.
When her eyes meet mine, they’re full of fire. “Yes, Daddy,” she moans. Freaking moans. That, mixed with the sight of her tongue running across her top lip as she fights off a smile, sends every ounce of blood in my body south.
I let out a frustrated groan, pushing myself back into the couch.
Hoping the blanket over my lap is enough to hide the evidence of what she does to me.
I have every intention of putting a movie on and convincing her to spend the night before I have to leave tomorrow.
It’ll be my first game back since Mom died, but apparently, she has other thoughts on the matter.
Her head tips back, and laughter erupts from the depths of her soul, loud, unapologetic, so completely her.
Her foot brushes against the situation in my pants before she turns in a move that seems to defy all gravity and straddles me.
Her hands land on my knees, with her back to me, my name is front and center as it stretches across her shoulder blades.
Shit, she looks so good, she looks like she’s mine. She tosses a wink over her shoulder, giving them a soft shimmy, “Does this do it for you, baby? Your name on my back?” Her voice is low and raspy, and God, I want to hear it like this every night for the rest of my life.
I gulp. My mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara in the height of summer. “Yes,” I gasp as she leans back and rolls her hips slightly before humming low in her throat.
All too soon, I lose the heat of her, and she perches herself on the edge of my coffee table, head tilting to the side, a coy smile pulling at her lips. “What is it you like about it? Hmm?...”
She leans back, exposing the full column of her neck, and long, curly hair cascades in waves behind her, brushing against the table. I bring my fist to my mouth, biting down against my knuckles as I fight the urge to wrap that hair around my fist and tell her all the reasons it does it for me.
Her eyes never leave mine as she moves toward me, slowly dragging her hands up my thighs, much like I was doing to her in the car earlier. “Is it the fact that it sends a message? Your name on the back of a woman… is that the athlete's version of marking your territory?”
“Not a woman, my woman,” I grit out.
She stands, walking around the back of the couch, her hands slowly trailing over my shoulders, then under the collar of my shirt to the planes of my chest. “Is that it?”
She murmurs before her tongue runs up the side of my neck, ending with a nip to my ear. “With your name on my back, it makes you feel like you’re claiming me? Like you own me?” I groan as her nails dig into the bottom of my chest.
“Oh?” She chuckles darkly, “You like a little pain with your pleasure, huh, Goldie?” she coos as she stands back up and walks to the kitchen. Damn, I love when she calls me Goldie. I start to turn around, but then I hear the ice maker spit out a piece of ice and freeze.
I follow the sway of her hips when she comes back into my line of sight. My girl makes a show of holding the ice in her hands before popping it into her mouth, letting it melt the rest of the way, then dropping to her knees in front of me.
I jump when her freezing hands land on top of my shorts, the temperature seeping through the thin material, dragging up until they reach the waistband.
She wraps her slender fingers around them and pulls until they fall to the floor.
A sinister smile grows on her face when she says, “Then be a good boy, and shut up so I can play.”
Hoooooly shit.
She raises back up on her knees, pulling my face down to hers. Her tongue drags across my jaw line, a chill passes through me at the sensation left from the ice that had been there seconds ago. I whimper as a drop of cold liquid runs down the column of my neck, pooling in the hollow of my throat.
“What pretty sounds you make for me, baby,” she breathes against my lips before she kisses my chin and lowers herself back down to the floor. Her teeth scrape down the front of my neck, making my boxer-clad hips buck toward her.
She gives me a soft tsk before whispering, “Impatient.”
“Lettie,” I don’t mean to drag her name out, but it comes out as a desperate plea.
“Oh… you beg too?” Her fingertips slide down my chest, stopping to cradle my hip bone. “You really are my good boy, aren’t you?”
My chest heaves, I’m surprised my tongue hasn’t fallen out of my mouth, begging for all this woman wants to offer me. If I die now, I’d be the happiest man to ever walk the earth.
But then she stiffens, “What is that?” Her wide eyes are focused on my thigh, the very thigh that holds the sparrow she drew when I was sixteen.
“I believe the book girlies call it a ‘slutty thigh tattoo’.”
She traces over the pattern, mesmerized, her head shakes softly before she looks back up at me with tears in her eyes. “You really got this tattooed on you?”
I nod, transfixed by the emotion swirling in her eyes.
“When?”
“My eighteenth birthday.” Her mouth falls open, but only for a second before she presses her lips to the blue heart that sits on the bird's chest, exactly the way she drew it back then. My muscle jumps at the contact.
She looks up at me through her lashes. She looks perfect settled between my thighs, her lithe body framed and protected by my own.
I’ll take what she gives me and still ask for more.
I’m a selfish man when it comes to her. My desire for her runs like a current, strong and wild, and I’d gladly drown before I ever let this woman go again.
I regret nothing, especially not the fact that I woke up to a mostly naked Scarlett this morning.
Definitely not the fact that I got to make breakfast for her.
We even did the rounds to check the fence together before I had to head to the airport.
It was like we were kids, riding the horses around the ranch, making up ridiculous stories about what the animals talked about during the day.
She just had to go and throw my entire world off its axis once again.
Lost in the throes of passion, the way she played my body and the way she let me play hers right back, every ounce of fight left at the edge of my bed.
It was like I’d been given a second chance, one where being loved back was a possibility.
One where I didn’t end up alone at the end of the day.
She’s been my lifeline since mom died, and subconsciously, I fear I’m putting way too much expectation on her. What happens if she leaves, or God forbid, something happens to her, too? I guess this stretch of away games will be a good test.
We won our game three to one, and I may have scored a goal, then pointed at the camera because I had a hunch someone was watching back home.
My suspicion is confirmed when my phone lights up from its spot on the bench next to me.
I unlock it as I pull my shirt over my head, not looking forward to putting this stupid suit back on.
Abby: You know I love you if I went along with Hannah’s stupid idea.
Abby: I’ll have you know, Scarlett’s still a little shit, and she knows not a damn thing about hockey… How are you going to marry someone who doesn’t know anything about your job? I mean, WTF Monroe?