27. Natalie
Natalie
I'm vaguely aware of returning to my position by the bench, of Lane squeezing my shoulder and whispering, Congratulations, and of the other medical staff trying not to stare at me while grinning like idiots.
The crowd keeps chanting and cheering, and every time the Jumbotron shows a replay of the moment, another wave of noise rolls through the arena.
My hand is still tingling where I pressed it against the glass.
Ethan is back on the ice, playing hockey like he didn't just declare his love in front of fifteen thousand people. But every time he skates past the bench, his eyes find mine. And every time they do, my heart clenches with joy and disbelief.
He loves me. He wants me back. He put his pride aside and apologized in the most public way possible.
The Renegades win 4-2. Ethan doesn't score again, but he plays solidly, his knee holding up through the physical demands of competition. When the final buzzer sounds, the team gathers at center ice for the traditional post-game handshakes, then files off toward the locker room.
I don't know what to do with myself. Do I wait for him? Do I go to the locker room? Do I act like everything is normal when nothing about this night has been normal?
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Avery: OH MY GOD. I’m screaming.
Harper: That was the most romantic thing I've ever seen.
Olivia: Theo says Ethan is a wreck. Go easy on him. Also, we're all crying.
I'm still staring at my phone when a hand touches my elbow. “He's asking for you.”
I look up to find Theo standing beside me, still in his gear, sweat dripping down his face. “He told me to come get you.”
“Where?”
“The family room. Down the hall from the locker room. He'll meet you there in ten minutes.”
The corridors are crowded with staff and players and media, but everyone steps aside when they see me coming. A few people clap, and one of the trainers whistles. I keep my head down and walk faster.
The family room is quiet when I slip inside. It's a comfortable space with couches and a TV, designed for players' families to wait after games. Tonight, it's empty.
I sink onto one of the couches and try to calm my racing heart. My hands are shaking, and my whole body is vibrating with anticipation and nerves.
The door opens, and Ethan walks in.
He's showered and changed into jeans and a dark sweater, his hair still damp and curling at the edges. He stops just inside the door and just looks at me.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.”
We stand there for a long moment, the silence stretching between us. Then he crosses the room in three long strides and pulls me into his arms.
I bury my face in his chest and breathe him in. His arms tighten around me until there's no space left between us, until I can feel his heart pounding against my cheek.
“I'm sorry,” he says in a rough voice. “I'm so sorry. I was an idiot. I was scared, and I took it out on you, and I'm so fucking sorry.”
I pull back enough to look at his face. “It’s okay. That’s the past.”
“The flowers were from me. I should have signed the card, but the guys said not to. I shouldn’t have listened. I didn't know if you'd even want to hear from me after everything I said.”
“I hoped it was you.” I cup his face in my hands. “I wanted it to be you so badly.”
“Can you forgive me?” His eyes search mine, vulnerable in a way I've never seen from him before. “I know I don't deserve it. I know I hurt you. But I love you, Natalie. I love you, and I can't do this without you.”
“I love you too.” The words come out thick with tears. “I never stopped, even when you were being a stubborn, impossible ass, I never stopped loving you.”
He laughs. “I was a stubborn, impossible ass.” He grows serious. “Let’s go home. I need to be alone with you.”
We leave through a back exit to avoid the media. Ethan's car is waiting in the player parking lot, and we drive in silence, our hands intertwined on the center console.
I'm pressed against his side, his arm around my shoulders, on the elevator ride to his apartment. The moment we're through his door, everything changes.
His hands are in my hair, tilting my head back so he can kiss me. “I missed you. God, I missed you so much.”
“Show me.”
He groans and lifts me off my feet. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries me down the hallway to his bedroom. We fall onto the bed together, his body covering mine.
His hands find the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. “Beautiful.” He traces his finger along the lace edge of my bra. “You're so beautiful.”
I reach for his sweater, and he helps me tug it off, revealing the chest I've been dreaming about for weeks. I run my palms over the hard planes of muscle, relearning every ridge and contour.
“I thought I'd lost you,” I whisper.
“Never.” He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. “You could never lose me. I was just too stupid to see what was right in front of me.”
He unclasps my bra and tosses it aside, then lowers his mouth to my breasts. I arch into him as his tongue circles my nipple, teasing it to a peak before moving to the other one. His hand slides down my stomach and unfastens my jeans, pushing them down my hips along with my underwear.
“I need to remember what you taste like,” Ethan growls.
He moves down my body, kissing every inch of skin along the way. My ribs. My navel. My hipbone. When he settles between my thighs and presses his mouth to my center, I cry out so loudly I'm sure the neighbors can hear.
He takes his time. Long, slow strokes of his tongue that build pleasure without rushing toward release.
My hands find his hair and grip tight as tension coils in my belly. He slides two fingers inside me and curls them. His tongue circles my clit in relentless patterns, and I'm climbing, climbing, climbing towards my climax.
“Ethan.”
He sucks my clit, and a minute later, an orgasm tears through me with brutal intensity. Then he crawls up my body and kisses me deeply. I reach for his belt and fumble with the buckle, desperate to free him.
“Slow down,” he says. “We have all night.”
“I need you inside me.”
He groans and helps me push his jeans and boxers down his legs. His cock springs free, hard and thick. I wrap my hand around him and stroke slowly, watching his eyes flutter closed.
“Every night we were apart, I laid in bed and thought about you,” I say.
“What did you think about?”
“Sex.”
A laugh rumbles through his chest. “So all you want is my body. I see how it is.”
“Your body is very nice.”
“Just nice?”
“Exceptional.” I tighten my grip, and he sucks in a breath. “World-class. Hall of Fame worthy.”
“Fuck, baby.” He pulls my hand away and positions himself at my entrance. “I need to be inside you. I can't wait anymore.”
He pushes in slowly. The stretch is exquisite, pure pleasure. He slides deeper with each gentle thrust until he's fully inside me.
“I love you,” Ethan says. “I love you so much it terrifies me.”
I wrap my legs around his waist. “I'm not going anywhere.”
He starts to move in long, slow strokes that let me feel every inch of him. Ethan makes love to me like we have all the time in the world.
I run my hands down his back and grip his ass, pulling him deeper with each thrust. He groans and increases his pace. The pleasure builds in waves, each one cresting higher than the last.
“I was so empty without you,” he says against my neck. “Nothing felt right. The apartment was too quiet. I couldn't eat or sleep. All I could think about was you.”
I tilt my hips to meet his thrusts. “It was the same for me.”
“I'm sorry I put you through that. I'm sorry I was too stubborn to listen.”
“Stop apologizing.” I pull his face to mine and kiss him hard.
His thrusts become deeper and more urgent. I'm climbing again, the pressure building at the base of my spine, spreading through my limbs.
“I'm close,” I gasp.
The orgasm crashes over me without warning. I scream his name as my walls clamp down on his cock, milking him with wave after wave of contractions. He follows seconds later with a groan, spilling inside me in hot pulses that seem to go on forever.
Ethan rolls to the side and pulls me against his chest.
For a long time, neither of us speaks.
“Tell me why you reacted the way you did,” I finally say.
Ethan inhales deeply before speaking. “I've been lied to before by people I trusted. I learned not to give people chance after chance.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you,” I say.
“I’m sorry I blew it out of proportion. I was judging you based on what other people did to me. I was so afraid of being hurt again that I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I'm still here.”
“After everything I said, after the way I treated you, why are you still here?” Ethan asks.
“Because I love you. I know who you are underneath all that grumpy, moody armor. Because the weeks without you were the worst of my life, and I never want to go through that again.”
“I love you, Natalie Cross,” he says.
We make love again, slower this time. Afterward, we lie tangled together in the dark.
“Move in with me,” Ethan says suddenly.
I lift my head. “What?”
“Move in with me. You're right next door anyway. It's stupid that we have two apartments when we want to be together all the time.”
“Ethan, we just got back together an hour ago.”
“I know what I want. I've known since Wisconsin. I want to wake up with you every morning and come home to you every night.”
My heart swells so big I'm afraid it might burst. “Ask me again in a month.”
“What?”
“We just went through something hard. We need time to rebuild trust and to make sure we're solid.” I kiss his chest. “Ask me again in a month. If we're still good, the answer will be yes.”
He considers this. “One month.”
“One month.”
“Fine, but I'm counting the days.”