Chapter 49
We’re going to the Stanley Cup playoffs.
I can’t believe it.
We finally head out, and all I want to do is get my hands on my girl. The second I spot her, she smiles big and wide, her dimple popping. I rush her. She squeals as I pull her into me and lift her off the floor.
Her laugh is music to my ears. Hearing it is like cracking a window that’s been closed for too long.
My lips are on hers immediately.
She pulls away after a minute. “You did it. I’m so proud of you, Eighty-Seven,” she says, her eyes shining with pride all for me.
“I can’t believe it,” I say with a laugh.
“Ready to celebrate?” she asks as I set her down just in time for Rudy to jump onto my back and let out a whoop.
“Ready to get your dance on, baby sister?” Rudy asks, jumping down before he lowers into a squat and starts twerking.
The kid’s hopeless.
“We’re actually gonna head home,” I say.
“We are?” Erin says at the same time Rudy pouts and whines like a kid who just had his spade stolen from him in the sandbox.
Rudy’s lips jut out. “But Ruby Roulette awaits us.”
“Let’s go for a little while. You deserve to celebrate, and I wouldn’t mind being spun around on the dance floor to a song or two,” Erin murmurs.
“I support this plan,” Rudy adds.
“You want to stay out?” I ask her.
“Yeah, Eighty-Seven, I want to stay out,” she says, and Rudy hollers even louder.
We get to the private bar. The music is loud, and the people covering the dance floor are having a great time. Erin stays close to my side, holding my hand as I guide her through the crowd.
I get her a Shirley Temple and a club soda for myself as I make my way back to the booth. She’s tucked in the corner talking to Hayes, who hasn’t stopped grinning since the final buzzer of the game went off. He’s giving proud dad vibes tonight, earning his nickname.
Erin’s gaze tracks Oliver, still at the bar chatting with the bartender. “What’s the deal between Oliver and Crawford?” she asks, her eyes flicking to Hayes.
“They played against each other in high school,” Hayes replies, his voice flat. “Always giving Oliver shit.”
We watch as Oliver shimmies to the dance floor, drink in hand, anger now forgotten.
“Watching them go at it… that shove seemed personal,” Erin says.
“Yeah,” Hayes mutters. His gaze never leaves Oliver, who joins Rudy. “She was the only one who ever called him Ollie.”
Erin pauses for a beat and then hums, reading between the lines. She lets the silence hang for a moment before shifting her attention back to the dance floor.
She laughs at Rudy and Oliver busting moves on the dance floor that should not be allowed in public because of how goofy they look.
When I look down at her, her eyes are glassy as she takes in her brother, who has the biggest grin on his face as he shakes his ass and wiggles his hips, completely lost in the music.
I throw my arm around Erin and kiss the top of her head. She melts into my side. “Talk to me,” I say in her ear.
“I’m just… I’m so proud of him. He turned his entire life around,” she says, and I kiss away the one tear that slips down her cheek. There’s this softness in her eyes, and it hits me hard—how much love she has, even after everything she’s lived through.
She looks up at me with her whiskey eyes.
“I’m so proud of you too, Eighty-Seven. You played amazing, and I think you can go all the way,” she says as another tear falls down her cheek.
“Thank you, baby.”
She nuzzles into me, and we stay that way for the next hour, wrapped up in each other as we laugh at Oliver and Rudy.
After a dance, we call it a night and head home. The second the front door shuts behind us, the noise, lights, and chaos of the win disappears.
It’s just us.
Ten minutes later, I make my way to the bathroom, but Erin still hasn’t come out. The silence makes me freak out. I knock, already bracing for I don’t even know what.
She opens the door, wearing the black satin robe I got her a few weeks ago.
“Everything okay?” I ask her.
“I love you.”
The world tilts. Of all the ways tonight could’ve gone, this wasn’t even on the list. Not because I didn’t want it, but because I didn’t dare expect it. I try hard to keep my voice from sounding hoarse, but it doesn’t work.
“What did you say?”
“I’m in love with you, Chase Riley Harper.”
Finally.
My lips crash into her. Her arms go around my neck, and I lift her from the ground and carry her out of the bathroom and to the bed. I drop her on it and climb on top of her.
“Tell me again,” I whisper in her ear.
“I’m in love with you.”
“Again,” I beg.
“I’ve been in love with you for the longest time.”
“One more time.”
“I love you so much, Chase.”
“I love you too, baby,” I say, stroking her cheek.
Erin reaches for the zipper at the base of my neck, pulling it down slowly.
The rasp of the teeth sliding open fills the air between us.
She slips her hands around the fabric, guiding it down my arms. It bunches at my wrists and I pull them free, tossing the hoodie aside before meeting her lips in another searing kiss.
My hands find her waist, and I pull on the knot that keeps her covered. I part the satin next, not prepared to be graced with the little number she’s wearing under the robe.
She bites her lip in response to my eyes roaming over the forest green lacy lingerie. Her sun-kissed skin begs to be seen under the sheer fabric.
It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I immediately pull the robe away, needing to see the rest of her. With it discarded, I sit back on my heels and gaze at her.
My mouth goes dry.
The material hugs her body effortlessly. Two thin straps rest over her delicate shoulders, her small breasts concealed by the satin. The only thing holding them in is a bow fastened at the front. One tug and the whole thing will come apart in my hands.
I lift my palm and run it over her, starting from the base of her neck and moving down the valley of her breasts, but I don’t stop. I go over the bow, praising myself for not yanking at it the second my hand connects with it.
I continue down to her flat stomach and stop at her waist, not moving any lower.
I let my eyes wander to a place I have yet to see or touch.
Through the sheer fabric, I can see she’s wearing lacy panties and I so desperately want to flip her over and check if they cover her cheeks completely or not.
“You buy this for me, sweetheart?”
“I wanted to wear something nice for you. Is it okay?”
I flick my eyes back down to her. “Is it okay?” I repeat. “Baby, this isn’t nice. This is fucking sinful. I don’t have words to describe how intoxicating you are right now.”
“You approve, then?” She chuckles.
“Fuck yeah,” I rasp as I continue to drink her in.
She’s fucking perfect.
Her breath hitches when I cup her pussy, her arousal coating my palm. I bite back a groan when my finger grazes over her, and she whimpers my name at the contact.
Reaching over my head, I pull my shirt off in one smooth motion.
Her eyes drag down my bare torso for the first time. Heat unlike I’ve ever known prickles over my skin under the weight of her stare.
They stop over my heart.
Her breath stutters, and she presses her palm over her mouth as if she’s trying to prevent every emotion from spilling out as she sits up.
Her shaky hand reaches out, but she pauses and then looks at me, seeking permission.
“You never have to ask to touch me, baby. I’m all yours.”
Her fingers trail over my second tattoo.
The first one I got was dedicated to Jack.
This one is for her.
Her fingertips follow the ink and trace the small black outline of an open book etched over my heart. From its pages, a jagged but alive heartbeat line spills before curving into the shape of a heart.
I tap the spot twice—right over my heart—then point at her.
Her eyes lift to mine.
And she smiles.
Not confused. Not surprised.
Knowing.
Every game. Every goal.
It’s been for her.
“When did you get this?” she whispers, her voice barely steady.
“Right after you put Jack’s name on the ice.”
Her gaze snaps to mine.
“I wanted something permanent,” I tell her. “Something that says this heart beats for you.”
She raises herself up onto her knees. My eyes fall shut as her lips press a kiss over it. When she pulls back, I circle my arm around her waist and claim her lips.
She opens for me when I lick, letting me taste her. A soft, guttural noise escapes her when my hands slip down to her ass, letting me feel how little of her is covered. It makes me go feral. I pull her so that she’s straddling me.
“I want to see you,” she whispers breathlessly.
Fucking finally.
“Yeah? What do you want to see?”
“I want to see all of you. I-I want you to be my first, and if you’ll have me, my last.”
“Fuck, baby.” I groan when the realization of just how unprepared I am for the moment I’ve been waiting so damn long for hits me. “Erin, I don’t have anything.”
She frowns, and then it clicks. For a reason I can’t explain, my lack of protection in the bedside table has a laugh vibrating from her, causing her to wriggle on my lap.
The movement shifts her so we’re lined up perfectly. She gasps when I spank her. Using my other hand, I tighten my hold on her hip to keep her from moving.
“Don’t. Do. That.”
Her eyes widen, and I know she feels me twitch against her core.
“Sorry,” she says when she does it again.
I bring my head to her forehead.
“You’re killing me, sweetheart.”
“Why don’t you have anything?”
“I’ve never brought a girl here other than you. When we started dating, I thought about getting a box, just in case, but I didn’t want you to find them and feel pressured or uncomfortable. I sort of thought that we’d talk about it before we got here.”
“That’s the sweetest thing I think I’ve ever heard.”
I chuckle. “That’s me,” I sing. “Sweet and so, so stupid.”
“Eighty-Seven,” she whispers.
I sigh looking up at her. “Yeah, baby?”
“I’m on the pill.”
My brain short-circuits at the thought of taking her bare the first time.