Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jason
When we leave the Salty Salmon, I don’t want to let go of Hailey. And fortunately, it makes the most sense for us to continue holding hands. Having her tucked against my side all night just felt right. And when everyone demanded that we kiss?
I didn’t want to stop.
She felt perfect in my arms, against my body, her lips moving against mine. It would’ve been so easy to taste her, but I held back—mostly because of our audience. If I could get her to kiss me like that again at home …
Hailey tugging on my hand pulls me out of my daydreams and makes me realize we’re standing on a street corner about to go the wrong way. “Aren’t we parked over here?” she asks, gesturing to the right.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was lost in my thoughts.” I take a couple of steps in that direction, but Hailey pulls me to a stop again, and when I look at her, she has her lower lip caught between her teeth.
“Look, I know several of your teammates were talking about going to a club …”
My brows lift at her mention of a club. Hailey’s never struck me as a clubbing kind of girl, and she’s not exactly dressed for it.
But it’s the Pacific Northwest. No one’s too fussy about dress codes around here.
If she wants to go clubbing in jeans, sneakers, and my Emeralds hoodie, who am I to complain?
“You want to go to a club?” I clarify.
Her head jerks back and she sputters out a laugh. “Me? God, no. But Marissa mentioned …” She trails off again, and I really want to know what Marissa said now.
“What did Marissa say?”
She huffs, her whole body getting in on the action, though she hasn’t let go of my hand.
“Just that even though you weren’t usually connected to anyone in a relationship, she was sure you weren’t living like a monk.
I don’t know how you usually celebrate a win, but if you wanted to go out with your teammates, I can get an Uber ho—” When she meets my eyes, whatever she sees there has her stopping mid-word.
She swallows hard—it might be audible if the city noises weren’t so loud. “Look, I know this between us is—”
“What?” I cut in. “What is this between us?”
She shrugs, lifting her free hand palm up. “It’s just … temporary. For show so I can have health insurance and you can feel like you’re keeping your promise to Hunter.”
My laugh is low and dark. “I promise you, Hailey. What I’m feeling for you isn’t brotherly at all.”
Her lips press together, and her eyebrows crimp like she’s confused.
Stepping close, I use my grip on her hand to pull her the rest of the way to me.
“Don’t you feel it?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, but I know she hears me because she shivers, and it’s not because it’s cold.
“Electricity arcs between us every time we touch. I know I can’t be the only one who notices. ”
Her eyes look deep and fathomless below the street lights as she gazes into mine, barely blinking. Then she shakes her head. It’s a tiny movement, maybe only a millimeter. “You’re not,” she whispers.
And then I kiss her for real. Not because people are watching or chanting or it’s the expected next step in a wedding. But because I want to. And she wants me to.
Her fingers flex against mine, and her other arm snakes around my shoulders as I hold her against me with my free hand pressed flat across her back.
This time, I do taste her, my tongue testing her lower lip, and she opens for me on a gasp, her fingertips digging into the space between my shoulder and neck.
She tastes like the cocktail she drank—fruity and sweet and intoxicating.
After a moment, she breaks away with a gasp, breathing hard, but I keep her pressed against me. “If you want to go to a club, I’ll take you,” I say, my voice low, nearly a growl. “But I’m not going anywhere without you.”
She stares into my eyes for another beat, then dips her chin in a nod. “Let’s go home.”
As soon as we’re inside, I pull her into my arms again. I don’t want to let her go. I can’t get enough of her—her taste, the way she feels, everything.
She kisses me back, and I’m thrilled that she’s been as enthusiastic about this kiss as the one on the corner.
Every time I’ve kissed her before, it’s seemed like she’s surprised and unsure how to respond.
Which, I suppose is understandable given how we ended up here. But I want her to want this too.
On that note, I pull back, breathing hard, my heart hammering like I’ve just been running drills for the last hour. After taking a second to catch my breath, I meet her eyes. “This is … you’re okay? With this?”
She bites her lip, which has my heart plummeting, but then she nods, which has it rising up again like I’m on some kind of internal roller coaster. But that hesitation gives me pause, and I twine my fingers with hers, leading her to the couch, settling her on one end, then taking the other.
She laughs when I sit, making sure the entire center cushion separates us. “What are you doing?”
“I want us to talk. I don’t want …” I shake my head. “I don’t want you to have any regrets. About me. Or us. Or any of this.”
One of her eyebrows arches up her forehead. “What would I be regretting?”
I make an ineloquent gesture toward her and then down the hall, which only has her looking at me with both eyebrows raised now.
Clearing my throat, I decide to just be completely and brutally honest. “I want you, Hailey,” I admit, my voice low and gravelly.
“I have for a while, but I didn’t want to freak you out or scare you off.
I know this was supposed to be a formality, but … ”
“But?” she prompts when I don’t finish the sentence.
I shrug. “But you are my wife.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that no one would think it strange if we consummated our marriage.”
She giggles at that. It starts small, then turns into full-throated laughter. “Consummated our marriage,” she murmurs when she calms down a little, kicking off another fit of giggles.
Grinning, I watch her laugh, leaning back against the arm of the couch. I’d much rather have a laughing Hailey than one who’s uncertain, uncomfortable, or waking up in the morning with regrets. “Is there something wrong with saying it that way?”
Still laughing, she shakes her head. “Not if you’re a duke from the eighteenth century, there’s not.”
That has me chuckling too. “Fine. I want to fuck you. Repeatedly. And as often as you’ll let me. Better?”
When she raises her eyes to mine, all her laughter dries up at the combination of my words and the look on my face, which I’m guessing only serves to reinforce what I just said.
She swallows. Audibly.
“Like I said,” I murmur. “You are my wife. It’s not that ridiculous.”
“No,” she whispers. “It’s not, is it?” She looks away for a moment, then meets my eyes again. “Would this change anything?”
My brows lift slightly. “I’d imagine so, yes. We wouldn’t just be roommates anymore.”
She flashes a grin that feels reassuring. “No—well, yes, I guess that’s true. But I mean long term. Between us.”
I shrug. “I’ve never had any timeline for you deciding to move out or move on. As far as I’m concerned, I want you here as long as you’re happy. Sleeping together won’t change that, no.” I want her here forever. But I’m afraid of scaring her off, so I don’t say that out loud.
There are a few seconds of silence as she takes that in, then, “You said repeatedly.”
I dip my chin. “I did, yes.”
“Tonight? Or … more than just tonight?”
“I meant more than just tonight. But if tonight’s all you’re offering, I’ll take it.”
She gives me a cheeky grin. “Let’s see how tonight goes before I make any long-term decisions.”
Laughing, I stand and hold out my hand to her. She places her hand in mine, letting me pull her to her feet. Her eyes stay open as I lower my mouth to hers, kissing her gently.
All of our kisses before this have either been done for the benefit of others or hungry and full of need.
I’m determined to show her that I can be tender and sweet too, so I kiss her slowly, almost chastely, except that I pull her close, letting her feel how hard I’m getting just from these sweet kisses.
She lets out a soft sound at the contact, then she’s pressing herself into me more firmly, her hands searching for purchase on my back, and I can’t keep up the sweet and gentle act any longer.
Skating my hands down her back, I grip her ass, molding the round cheeks with my hands, then move a little lower and lift.
She lets out a squeak, which makes me grin, ruining the kiss. Even though I caught her by surprise, she catches on quick, wrapping her legs around me and moving her arms over my shoulders to make it easier for me to carry her to my bedroom.
“God, you’re strong,” she breathes. “That’s so hot.”
Chuckling, I steal a kiss but make sure I’m paying attention as I navigate through my bedroom door. I don’t want to risk banging her into anything.
I set her gently on the edge of my bed, then hold up one finger. “One sec,” I murmur before disappearing into the bathroom, where I proceed to tear apart the contents of my vanity looking for a box of condoms I know have to be here.
Because even though I do keep some on hand just in case, I don’t actually have a lot of sex.
The women who tend to hang around professional sports teams hoping to snag an athlete—people call them puck bunnies in hockey—have never appealed to me all that much.
To them, I’ve always felt like a jersey—a number, a trophy—and while that didn’t bother me that much when I was younger, the novelty wore thin after a couple of years.
So yeah, I have condoms. I just don’t know … “There you are, you little fuckers,” I whisper as I find the box tucked at the back of the drawer where I keep my spare toothpaste and Q-tips.
Grabbing the box, I stride back into my bedroom to find Hailey still sitting on the edge of the bed where I left her, leaning back on her hands, watching the bathroom door with an amused expression on her face. “I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten distracted.”
I hold up the box of condoms. “I was getting supplies.”
“Ah. Smart. Married or no, I don’t think either of us wants to add a baby into the mix here.”
Clearing my throat, I shake my head, ostensibly agreeing with her.
But honestly? The thought of her having a baby doesn’t strike as much terror into my heart as I feel like it should.
Especially since she’s still on the fence about how long she wants to stick around.
Or even whether or not we’ll have sex again after tonight.
Which means, I need to make it good for her.
The best she’s ever had.
My stomach tries to tie itself into knots, but I take a deep breath. I’ve got this.
Tossing the box onto the bed, I stalk toward her, covering her lips with mine, making her gasp again in that way I’m beginning to find unbearably erotic.
She sinks into the bed beneath me, lying back, my hand still cradling her head, the other holding me up.
Her hands slide under my shirt, tentatively at first, but then with more confidence as I groan and press into her touch. But she only goes up to my rib cage, her touch so light it tickles, and I realize part of the reason is that my shirt is in the way.
Standing, I reach behind my neck and yank it off in one swift motion, tossing it carelessly on the floor as I meet Hailey’s wide eyes. Then a slow smile spreads across her mouth as her eyes travel over my torso.
I rub one hand across my chest, then down my belly, watching her eyes as they follow its path. “Like what you see?”