Chapter 20
Twenty
Lainey
The excitement of the evening finally catching up with him, I tuck Ollie into bed, making sure his new Ollie is tucked beside him.
I flick off the light, hurry downstairs.
And find Sawyer in the kitchen, sweeping the floor.
“What are you doing?” I ask softly.
He bends and uses the dustpan to scoop up a few crumbs. “Nothing now,” he says, dumping it in the trash, putting everything back, and coming over to me.
“Do you have to go?”
Fingers on my cheek, a murmured, “No.”
We stand there for a moment.
“Your mom seems nice.”
A pause. A flicker of something across his face. “Yeah, she’s…nice.” He trails his knuckles down my throat, across my collarbones. “Ollie had a good day.”
I nod, a blip of guilt trailing through me at how happy Ollie was today.
“It’s Christmas, Pages,” he murmurs. “The excitement will fade and then he’ll think about his dad.”
“I know. I just…”
“It’s not your fault you’re still here and he isn’t.”
“I know,” I say again.
But I don’t feel it.
Sawyer knows that too. He tugs me against his chest, arms wrapping around me. But he doesn’t repeat the words. He just holds me.
Like he knows that sometimes words aren’t enough.
“I’m afraid that he won’t remember Ben at all,” I whisper.
A pause. A hand smoothing down my back. Then, “You’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
I freeze, every fiber in my body going taut.
Then I relax.
Because…
“You’re right,” I whisper.
I sigh softly, resting my forehead against his chest, knowing I should let him leave, let him go home and rest before the flight tomorrow and the bevy of upcoming road games in the following days.
But it’s nice to be with Sawyer.
And…it’s nice to be held like this.
“Did you have any other Christmas traditions?” I ask, stalling for a bit more time in his arms, for just a smidge more of this fantasy.
Of putting Ollie to bed and coming down to find Sawyer in my kitchen.
Only it’s not just sneaking in a few minutes before he has to go home.
Because it’s Sawyer’s house too.
Even as that thought slides through me, gentle as a babbling brook, a tsunami comes and pounds me in its wake.
Because what the hell am I thinking?
What the hell am I doing?
It’s only been a year since I lost Ben, and I shouldn’t—
No. I can’t.
Because what if—
“We had a lot of traditions,” Sawyer says and something about his tone has steel doors slamming down around the panic in my mind.
“Yeah?” I ask softly.
“Then my dad died.”
I jerk in his arms, start to lean back, but he just tightens his hold. “It’s not like that, Pages,” he says gently. “I was older, almost ten.”
“You were still just a baby.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Nah, I was focused, knew I wanted to be in the NHL, so my life was hockey. Practices and games and tournaments. Extra off-ice and strength training and watching as much hockey as possible.” His voice drops.
“I told myself I didn’t have time for making lists for Santa or opening presents on Christmas morning. ”
There’s pain in his voice.
And, when I lean back, it’s in his eyes too.
“Why?” I ask softly.
His gaze drifts away. “Why you’d expect,” he says just as softly.
“His death was sudden and Mom had a hard time managing everything. She wasn’t working and had a kid in an expensive sport.
Things were tight, and as much as a nine-year-old boy might pretend it didn’t matter, Santa doesn’t come for poor kids—at least not this poor kid. ”
“Sawyer,” I whisper, heart hurting for him.
“She tried,” he says in a rush. “I’m not saying she didn’t. It was— Things were—”
I touch his jaw, something about the sudden urgency in his voice making my heart ache. “I know she tried. It’s clear she loves you very much.”
A moment of quiet, his arms growing tighter. “Yeah, she does. And did,” he adds softly.
“You know what I find works well in times like these?”
His lips tip up ever so slightly at the edges. “What’s that, Pages?”
“Hot chocolate and cookies.”
“That’s good,” he says lightly. “But you know what I find works well in times like these?”
“Tell me.”
“I’d rather show you.”
I blink, lips parting—
And he takes advantage, cupping my cheeks in his hands, tipping my face up while he leans in and…
Kisses me like he needs it to breathe.
His tongue slips between my lips and—
I melt, moan bubbling up my throat, arms going around his shoulders, holding tight as he kisses me and kisses me and kisses me. Strength and heat, desire a tornado through my insides, my legs trembling, my mind going fuzzy except for one thing.
Sawyer.
I need him.
I want him.
God, I want him so badly.
As though he can pluck that thought from my mind, he slips one hand under the edge of my T-shirt, slightly roughened fingertips trailing over my skin.
He pauses, our breaths intermingling. “Okay?” he asks, brushing them back and forth over my hip.
I nod.
“Kinda need the words, Pages.”
A shuddering breath. “Yes, Sawyer. Please touch me.”
His hand spasms on my side but then he’s trailing it up, drifting it along my ribs, sliding it up toward my breasts. He pauses just beneath them, the tip of his finger lightly stroking my skin. “Still okay, baby?”
I exhale shakily. “Yes.”
Blazing blue eyes on mine.
His finger slipping beneath the band of my bra, tracing around to the back and—
We both groan as he flicks the elastic open and my breasts spring free.
“Touch me,” I say before he can ask.
Thankfully, he does.
And it’s fucking glorious, those big palms on my flesh, molding and squeezing, his thumb running lightly over my skin, turning my nipples into hardened buds desperate for his touch.
He gives it to me, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, sending lightning bolts of sensation through my body.
“Fuck, Pages. I need to see you.”
I’m reaching for the hem of my shirt before he finishes talking, tugging it up.
Our hands tangle for a few seconds, but then we manage to get my sweater up and over my head. He tosses it aside as I yank down my bra, dropping it to the floor.
Then he’s looking down at me—
A curse.
Those blue eyes burning into mine. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
“I—”
His lips come to mine again and then we’re kissing and touching and his mouth is dragging along my jaw, down my throat.
I hold my breath and—
“Sawyer!”
His mouth fastens over my nipple, suckling deeply.
My head falls back, my knees threaten to buckle, but Sawyer’s got me, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me into the living room, setting me down on the couch.
“More,” I whisper as he comes over the top of me.
No hesitation before his mouth comes back, along with his hands. I arch against him, diving my fingers into his hair, tugging the ponytail holder free, sending the loose curls spilling over my hands.
“Okay?” he asks as he starts kissing his way down my stomach.
“Yes.” I stroke the silky strands of his hair. “More.”
A wolfish smile as he flicks open the button on my pants. “More?”
I nod, lift my hips so he can drag them down, can toss them aside.
“More?”
Another nod, another lift of my hips so my underwear can go by the wayside too.
When he spreads my legs, bends down, his mouth mere millimeters from where I’m so desperate to have him, I ask, “Don’t need the words now?”
Blazing blue eyes on me.
Then one slow flick of his tongue.
I jump, hands tightening in his hair when he says,
“Give me the words, Pages.”