Chapter 35 – Seth #3
I pull back to look in her eyes. “And thank you. For believing in me. Not just because of who you are or what you could’ve done to sway things. For letting me prove that I deserve a spot on this team.”
Her smile blooms. “I’ll always believe in you.”
“You might be the first person who ever has.” I smooth my hands down her back to the top of her ass where I squeeze.
Her eyes glisten just a little. “Can we go home now?”
“Home?” I raise a brow.
She flushes, eyes dropping. “Your house. I meant your house.”
“No, it’s our house now,” I murmur, brushing a hand over her cheek. “Just the first time I’ve heard you call it that. And I like it.”
Her cheeks go even pinker. “Where’s Sawyer?”
“She’s spending the night at Boone and Rosie’s with the puppy.”
“Oh.” Her eyes light up a little.
“You better not be thinking about us watching The Grey’s or the Wellington’s tonight,” I warn, tugging her closer. “Tonight’s the real deal. You. Me. We can make our own movie if you’d like.”
She squeals as I scoop her into my arms, her laughter filling the air as we step out into the dark, evening air. My jersey on her, her arms wrapped around me, and the scent of her shampoo tingling my senses.
She plays with the hairs on my neck until she’s whispering in my ear. “Do you have a camcorder?”
I laugh. “No, baby, but we can stop and get one on the way.”
We head toward the train station, bound for Brookhaven, and for the first time in years, I know exactly where I belong is with her.
There’s no hesitation in my mind on whether this is going to last; whether she’s going to leave me, get bored, or realize that the family we’ve built together is too much.
She’s my home.
I grip Brianna’s thigh on the seat next to mine, trying and failing to concentrate on the magazine that’s open in my lap.
Something about farm-to-table recipes or Vermont’s best maple syrup, I don’t even know.
Because she’s next to me, curled up with one of her fantasy books—something about bat boys and wings and apparently very little clothing—and I can never think straight when she’s close.
Not with her scent in the air. Not with the way she absentmindedly licks her thumb to turn a page, or the faint crease between her brows when she’s lost in a scene.
I’m distracted. By all of her. Her red hair, sweet spirit, kind heart and most of all, her tender, unselfish, love for me.
By the way she sees me. Really sees me. Knew me well enough to realize I wouldn’t want her pulling strings behind the scenes to keep me on the Mayhem roster.
Through grit and discipline and pure fucking perseverance.
And the way she cared for me over these past two months, tending to my injury and being sure I was at the top of my game.
Now I see all those late-night massages and stretches a little differently. It was her way of showing she loved me and wants me to stay. Which also means, she wants to stay too.
Sawyer’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I didn’t think I could be lucky enough to have two miracles in my life, but I’m starting to believe I was wrong.
I lean in, nudging her knee gently with mine. “So, what are we?”
She glances up, eyes curious behind those dark-framed glasses she slipped on. The ones that make me want to push them up higher on her nose just so I can yank them off and bend her over something sturdy while someone shushes us like we’re in a library.
“What do you mean?”
I tilt my head. “Are we boyfriend and girlfriend?”
She smiles. “I already thought we were.”
“I want more.”
Her smile grows wider. “I think you already have more.”
“Do I now?”
“I think we should file the paperwork with HR and go public with our relationship officially.”
“So, we stop hiding?”
She grins. “Yeah.”
My fingers drift higher, tracing the inside of her thigh and squeezing—right at the edge of where soft turns to heat.
“I’ve been waiting to hear those words from you for a month now.”
Her breath hitches and she shoots me a sharp look, voice low. “Seth. What are you doing?”
“Turning you on.”
“We’re on a train,” she hisses, eyes darting around the mostly empty car. Boone and Rosie took the earlier, more packed one. This late-night ride from New York City to Brookhaven is practically a ghost town.
“Exactly. Perfect opportunity.”
“For what?” she whispers, narrowing her eyes like she doesn’t already know.
“Mile High Club.”
She snorts. “We’re not on a plane.”
I shrug, brushing my thumb in lazy circles over her skin. “Fine. Then what is it on a train?”
“Mile Long Club?” she offers, smirking. My eyes darken.
“I’ll show you something that’s a mile long.”
She laughs. “You’re big, but a mile is a stretch.”
“Mile Under Club?” I try.
She presses her lips together, fighting another laugh.
I lean in, voice low and gravelly. “Getting railroaded.”
She loses it—doubling over, full-body laughing, hand over her mouth as her shoulders shake. “Oh my God, stop.”
I grin, satisfied. “Come on,” I say, standing and holding out a hand. “You’ve never wanted to get a train run on you before?”
“Seth!” she gasps, trying not to laugh, even as she slaps at my chest. “You can’t just make up train puns.”
“Wanna bet?” I whisper. “Because I’ve got a whole freight-load of ‘em to show you and I’m trying to drop this load inside that pussy.”
“No.”
“Get loose inside that caboose?”
She groans but is smiling. “Though I love this playful version of you, I’m going to need you to stop.”
“Can’t,” I say, tugging her to her feet and leading her toward the bathroom at the end of the car. “This train’s left the station, baby.”