Chapter 22
“Pivot! Pivot! Pivot!”
I glance over my shoulder to see Andrew and Chase wrestling Addie's couch through the front door, their faces red with exertion. They look like they're about two seconds away from reenacting that scene from Friends, and I can't help but snicker.
“You guys need a hand?” I call out, setting down the box I was carrying.
“Nah, we got it!” Andrew grunts, sweat beading on his brow. “Just need to…angle it…a little…more…”
There's a loud scraping sound, followed by a muttered curse. I wince, hoping they don't scuff up the hardwood. But hey, that's what I get for asking hockey players to help. They’re not professional movers, right?
“Seriously, guys, let me help,” I insist, striding over to grab one end of the couch. Shit, this thing is heavy. Together, we manage to maneuver it through the doorway and into the living room, only knocking over one lamp in the process.
Chase collapses onto the cushions, wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt. “Remind me again why we volunteered for this. That couch is a lot heavier than it looks.”
Andrew says, flopping down beside him. “Because Wilder, here, promised us pizza and beer. But that couch, man, it’s got awkward angles,” Andrew adds.
Colton points at it. “What’s it made of? Steel?”
Chase adds, “I think all the furniture is industrial steel.”
I roll my eyes, but I can't keep the grin off my face because they’re right. If everything she owned was bought from Big Lots, I probably could have moved everything myself. “You'll get your beer and pizza. All the big furniture is done. Just a few more boxes.”
Addie appears in the doorway, a large cardboard box balanced on her hip.
Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, loose strands framing her flushed face.
She's wearing a pair of little cotton shorts and a tank top that's just tight enough to be distracting, and I have to physically drag my eyes away from the long, tanned line of her legs.
Christ, this woman is going to be the death of me.
“Pizza and beer?” she asks, a little breathless as she sets the box down. “Because I'm pretty sure we can do better than that. Right, Ry? I’ll cook something. Maybe some homemade cookies too.”
“Sure,” Andrew confirms, his eyes lighting up.
Colton glances at me and points in her direction. “She’s wife material, brother.”
I point at him with my brows raised. I don’t need him making this shit awkward for us.
Chase pats Colton’s shoulder with a laugh.
“You need to marry this girl, for real,” Colton says.
Addie blushes, walking outside to grab another box.
Andrew adds, “You’re not taking it slow anymore, right?”
I shake my head in disbelief at these fuckers.
Andrew says, “Before you know it, we’ll be helping you with baby furniture.”
I glare at him as Baddie walks in with another box.
She shoots a glare at Andrew and says, “It’s just me and my girly crap for now.”
I grin at her. “Hey, I happen to like your girly crap. Makes the place feel more like home.”
Something warm and soft blooms in her eyes as she glances at her things in the living room. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, Ads. You make everything feel more like home.”
Chase clears his throat, a knowing smirk playing at his mouth. “Should we give you two a moment? Maybe light some candles, put on some music.”
“Add in dinner for two,” I joke.
They leave the house to grab more boxes, and I'm too busy basking in the feel of my girl tucked into my side, in the knowledge that she's moving in, that this is happening.
That it's real.
That she is my girlfriend.
“Seriously though,” Addie says, pulling back just enough to look at me. “Thank you for this.”
I kiss her lips. “Pivotal moments have been happening lately. Now I need you at my game this week.” I mic drop and leave the house to grab another box if there is one.
I don’t want to hear her say that she has to work, so I hope the idea is planted that I want her there, especially if we’re official now. My girl at my games–that’s all I need.
“I feel like I should write the guys a thank you note. Or bake them a cake. Or name my firstborn after them,” she says.
I chuckle as I fold another one of Addie's t-shirts, adding it to the growing pile on the bed. It's late, the guys are long gone, and the house is quiet around us. We've been unpacking for hours, finding homes for all her things.
It's a strangely intimate process, intertwining our lives like this. Seeing her brightly colored coffee mugs nestled next to my plain ones, her fruity shampoo sitting cheek-to-jowl with my Old Spice on the shower ledge. It feels significant. Permanent, in a way that screams I will marry this woman. I don’t think I can ever go back now.
“I'm pretty sure Andrew would be thrilled with a namesake,” I say, shooting her a wink. "And we both know Chase is a whore for high-protein foods.” That man’s big and muscular for a reason.
She snorts, chucking a balled-up pair of socks at my head. “Name our son Chicken Andrew? Yeah, right. I’d rather name him Wild. Wild Wilder.” She bursts a laugh.
I laugh. “What? Are you already naming our unborn children?”
Addie freezes, her eyes going wide like she's just realized what she said. A flush creeps up her face, staining her cheeks pink. “Well, you know. Hypothetically.”
“Right.” I clear my throat, trying to tame the heart inside my chest. Thank god, for that ribcage. “And hypothetically, you want a son named Wild?”
She smirks. “I think it sounds better than China Wall Wilder.”
“Okay.” I shake my head. She’s clearly messing with me.
She nods, fiddling with the hem of the sweater she's folding. “You've got a good last name. Strong. Solid. The kind of name that would look really nice stitched on the back of a tiny jersey, that's all. Aw, imagine having a daughter?”
Jesus Christ. Is she trying to kill me?
Because all I can see now is a little girl with Addie's brown hair and my golden eyes, drowning in a Seven Devils sweater with WILDER splashed across the shoulders. I can see her perched on my hip at center ice, smushed between me and Addie as we beam at the cameras.
I can see a whole damn life, laid out in front of me. A future brighter than my wildest dreams.
It scares the shit out of me, how badly I want it.
How desperately I crave something I never even knew I needed until Addie became mine.
Now I can see it clearly. The ache in my chest feels too big for my ribs.
It's too much, too soon. We're barely finding our footing as a couple, let alone contemplating children.
“I'll keep that in mind. You know, for when the time comes to knock you up.”
She smiles at me across the bedroom as she places a pile of clothes in her dresser right next to mine. I could get used to this. Really used to this.
“I love having you here,” I admit. “All your things. Oh, and I fully intend to follow through on all my promises.”
Her giddy laugh turns breathless as I settle over her, caging her in with my arms. “What were those promises again?” she asks, teasing me. She knows exactly what I’m talking about. We were texting each other last night because it was the last night she was going to stay at her place.
I dip my head, nuzzling into the sweet curve of her neck. “Hmm, let's see. I'm pretty sure I promised to make you come so hard you forget your own name.”
She shudders out a sigh, her nails raking down my back. “That. Ah, that does sound familiar, yes.”
I grin against her skin, nipping at the racing pulse just beneath her jaw. “I also promised to kiss you until you can't see straight, lick every inch of this gorgeous body until you're shaking.”
“Ryan.” It's more of a moan than a word, her thighs falling open in wordless invitation. I settle between them with a groan. My dick is hard against her.
“And then, once you're nice and desperate, once you're clawing at the sheets and begging for more.” I roll my hips, grinding against the heat of her. “I'm going to make love to you until you scream.”
She grabs my dick from the outside of my jeans and then she digs her hand inside, grabbing me bare. “I want you right now.”
And fuck, there's no force on Earth that could make me deny her. Not when she's stroking me so aggressively, ready for what comes next. She’s looking up at me with pleading eyes.
So, I kiss her until we're both dizzy, until I can't tell where she ends and I begin. And then I set about taking her apart, making good on every promise I've made her.
I peel her clothes from her body with my hands, worshipping every slope and valley, every constellation of freckles that maps her skin. I taste her everywhere, painting her with my tongue until she's a trembling, gasping mess.
And then, when she's teetering on the edge, I surge up and claim her mouth once more. I swallow her broken cries as I sink into her, filling her so full she arches like a drawn bow.
“I love you,” I rasp, my voice scraped raw with the force of it. “I love you, Addison.”
“I love you.” She sobs it into my skin, her nails scoring desperate trails down my back.
And then there's no more words, no more room for anything but sensation.
I collapse onto her after, my heart thundering against her own. She runs gentle fingers through my sweat-damp hair.
“So,” she says after a long moment. “This is––”
“Yeah.” I lift my head to grin at her, feeling punch-drunk and giddy.
She laughs, soft and wondering. “We're really doing this, aren't we? We're all in.”
I lean in. “We still haven’t done everything on my list.”
She smirks. “Now that I’m living with you, we have all the time to tenfold that list.”
I kiss her neck, resting my body against hers.
I’m the luckiest man alive.