Chapter Twenty-Two
Simon
Eventually, everyone had food and drinks, and we settled into the living room to watch the game.
My couch was packed, I’d claimed the loveseat, and I’d dragged in chairs from the dining room so everyone had a place to sit.
The twins had claimed the floor with a nest of pillows, and Morgan had curled up in the recliner while Liam perched on the armrest beside her.
I pulled Raina down next to me on the loveseat, draping an arm around her shoulders. Wren, settling into a nearby chair, shot her best friend a knowing smirk as she handed over a glass of wine. I caught the blush that colored Raina’s cheeks, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned into me instead.
The game quickly captured everyone’s attention.
Since it was the Lynx’s first playoff game, the stakes felt higher than a regular-season match.
Every play carried weight. Every shot on goal made the room collectively hold its breath.
It wasn’t just about skill anymore. It was about the burning need to win.
If the Lynx took this game, they’d be starting the playoffs strong, one step closer to the Stanley Cup.
During breaks between periods, conversation flowed easily around the room. Raina seemed to hit it off with everyone—chatting with Noah, asking Morgan about her work, listening with genuine interest as Shannon complained about her latest dating disaster.
But it was the twins who truly captured her attention. Dylan, the quieter of the two, mentioned that she was training for a ballet recital, and Raina’s face lit up.
“I took ballet for years as a kid,” she said, leaning forward with enthusiasm. “I was never very good, but I loved it.”
“Can you still do a pirouette?” Dylan asked, eyes bright with curiosity.
“I haven’t tried in about fifteen years, but…” Raina set down her wine glass and stood, smoothing her dress. “Let’s find out.”
She kicked off her sandals, found a clear spot near the window, and positioned herself carefully. Dylan scrambled up to join her, demonstrating the proper form with the easy confidence of someone who practiced daily.
Then, together, they spun.
Dylan’s pirouette seemed flawless. Multiple rotations, perfect balance, graceful arms. Raina’s was…
less polished. She wobbled slightly on the landing and had to catch herself on the windowsill.
But she was laughing, her face flushed with delight, and Dylan was clapping and offering tips for next time.
I didn’t know anything about dance moves, but watching Raina—unselfconscious and joyful, connecting so effortlessly with my niece—made something warm expand in my chest.
When she rejoined me on the loveseat, slightly breathless, I leaned in close to her ear. “So… dancers are pretty flexible, right?”
She grinned, catching my meaning immediately. “That was the first time I’ve done any ballet in about fifteen years, so don’t get too excited.”
“Too late.”
Her laugh was soft and pleased, and she pressed closer against my side just as Shannon cried out, “Look at Miles go!” while pointing at the screen.
The third period had just begun, and Miles had possession of the puck.
His movements were fluid and lightning-fast as he wove through defenders, heading toward the net.
Anticipation coiled tight in my gut. I leaned forward, watching closely, aware of Raina doing the same beside me.
The camera tracked his progression, but there was movement all over the ice—
Between one heartbeat and the next, Miles was slammed into the boards.
He hit hard. His legs buckled, his body crumpling until he was sprawled on the ice, motionless. Someone from the opposing team scooped up the puck and skated away, but no one in my living room cared about that.
Raina made a sound low in her throat—dismayed, frightened—and Kurt cursed viciously. I grabbed Raina’s hand as I silently willed Miles to get up.
The room had gone silent. Even the twins were still, watching with wide eyes.
Seconds stretched into eternity. Then one of Miles’s teammates skated over and extended a hand.
Miles grasped it and was pulled to his feet.
Unsteady at first, swaying slightly, but upright.
After a moment, he skated off the ice under his own power, heading for the bench.
Raina exhaled a long, shaky breath. She looked at me with a tremulous smile. “I was worried there for a second.”
Before I could offer comfort, Dylan appeared beside us. The little girl patted Raina’s shoulder with solemn sympathy, and Shannon materialized with the wine bottle, topping off Raina’s glass.
“Hockey players are tough,” Fallon said gently from across the room. “He’ll be okay.”
One by one, everyone offered comfort in their own way. A kind word, a reassuring smile, a squeeze on the shoulder. I sat there watching, something warm spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with the relief of seeing Miles skate off the ice.
Raina fit here. Effortlessly, naturally, as if she belonged in my world. It felt right in a way I’d never experienced before.
The game ended with a narrow win for the Lynx. Miles had returned to the ice for the final minutes, looking none the worse for wear, and the winning goal had sent my living room into chaos—cheering, high-fives, the twins jumping up and down.
Now, as the excitement faded and people began gathering their things to leave, I made a decision.
I came up behind Raina while she was saying goodbye to Wren, placing my hands on her hips and pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck.
She shuddered as she closed the door after our last guest, leaning back into me instinctively.
“Stay tonight,” I murmured against her skin.
I’d seen her every day this week at the office, but it wasn’t enough. I missed the intimacy we’d shared at Neptune’s Kingdom. Waking up beside her, falling asleep with her body tucked against mine, the quiet moments between the chaos where it was just the two of us.
I missed her.
Raina didn’t hesitate. She turned in my arms, that perfect sunshine smile spreading across her face, and that was all the answer I needed.
I kissed her.
What started soft and sweet quickly deepened into something hungrier. Her fingers slid into my hair, her body pressing against mine, and I walked her backward toward the living room without breaking the kiss. We bumped into furniture and laughed against each other’s mouths.
Her hands found the hem of my t-shirt and tugged upward. I broke the kiss long enough for her to pull it over my head, then her palms were on my chest, sliding over my abs, tracing the lines of muscle with obvious appreciation.
“God,” she breathed. “I’ll never get tired of looking at you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
I reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. One slow pull and the fabric loosened, slipping off her shoulders and pooling at her feet. She stood before me in nothing but a lacy bra and matching panties, her skin golden in the dim light, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
“Your turn,” she said, her eyes dropping meaningfully to my jeans.
She placed both hands on my chest and pushed—not hard, but with clear intent. I let myself fall backward onto the couch, watching with heated anticipation as she stood over me, a playful smile curving her lips.
I kicked off my shoes and made quick work of my jeans and briefs while she watched, her gaze tracking every movement with undisguised hunger. Then I was naked, sprawled back against the cushions, my cock already hard and aching for her.
I wrapped my hand around my shaft, stroking slowly, and watched her eyes darken as she licked her bottom lip. She reached back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall. Then she hooked her thumbs in her panties and slid them down her thighs, stepping out of them.
Completely naked. Completely gorgeous. Completely mine.
She crossed to where I sat and brushed my hand away from my cock, replacing it with her own tight grip. “That’s mine,” she said, her voice low and possessive.
A groan rumbled up from my chest. “Is that so?”
“Mmhmm.” She stroked once, twice, her thumb rubbing over the sensitive head. “All mine.”
I smirked at her. “And what exactly are you planning to do with it?”
Her smile turned wicked. “Let me show you.”
She climbed onto my lap, her knees bracketing my hips, and I had to grip the couch cushions to keep from grabbing her immediately. She was so close, the heat of her hovering just above where I needed her, but she made me wait, her eyes locked on mine as she positioned herself.
Then she sank down, taking me deep in one smooth motion.
“Fuck.” The word tore out of me, rough and desperate.
She was perfect. Hot and tight and wet, her body gripping me like she was made for my cock.
I grabbed her hips, fingers digging in, pulling her down until she’d taken every inch.
Her eyes locked on mine, and for a moment neither of us moved.
We just breathed together, adjusting to the sensation, the connection.
Then Raina started to roll her hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding against me in a way that made sparks shoot up my spine. I let her set the pace, content to watch her chase her pleasure—the way her head fell back, the soft sounds escaping her lips, the flush spreading across her chest.
My hands skimmed up her body, cupping her breasts, feeling their perfect weight in my palms. I caught her nipples between my fingers and pinched gently.
She gasped, her rhythm stuttering. “More,” she breathed.
I leaned forward and took one nipple into my mouth, sucking hard while I rolled the other between my fingers.
Raina moaned, her hips moving faster now, rising and falling on my cock with increasing urgency.
She threaded her fingers through my hair and held me against her breast, keeping me there while she rode me hard and deep.
Her entire body shuddered and I switched to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, and felt her thighs start to tremble around me. She was close. I could feel it in the way her body tightened, the way her movements grew more frantic.
When it became too much, she pulled my head back.
Her hands framed my face, and she kissed me deeply.
I could taste the wine on her tongue, feel the urgency in the way her mouth moved against mine.
My hands dropped to her hips again, guiding her movements, driving up into her with each downward stroke.
She gasped against my lips. “Simon, I need—”
“I know.” I slid one hand between us, finding her clit, circling with just the right pressure and it didn’t take but a few strokes to make her shatter.
I felt her orgasm ripple through her, her inner walls clenching around me as she shuddered in my arms. The sight of her coming undone—head thrown back, my name on her lips—pushed me over the edge right behind her.
I came hard, spilling into her with a groan that felt like it was ripped from somewhere deep in my chest. Pleasure whited out my vision, my thoughts, everything except the feel of her and the rightness of this moment.
Afterward, we stayed tangled together on the couch, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. The apartment was quiet except for our breathing and the muted hum of the city outside.
“I had fun tonight,” she murmured against my skin. “Meeting everyone. Being here with you.”
“They liked you too.” I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You fit in perfectly.”
She tilted her face up to look at me, her expression soft and open in a way that made my heart stutter. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said huskily.
I looked at Raina—this woman who had somehow become essential to me in such a short time, in more ways than I could count, and I finally stopped fighting the truth that had been quietly taking root in my heart.
I was falling in love with her.