All the Way Page 18

  “Do we need one?” She meets my eyes with a soft look.

  “I—” I’m speechless for a second. She’d let me go bare? “I don’t know. I’m clear, but what about . . .”

  She shakes her head. “I’m on the pill.”

  All the oxygen leaves my lungs as her lips find mine again. I’m hit with a powerful surge of emotion so strong that it would have knocked me on my ass had I not been lying down.

  Maybe everything I’ve been taught about love was wrong. Maybe love is eating sushi on the couch with the girl you can’t get enough of, and laughing until your stomach hurts. Maybe love is that calm, happy feeling I get whenever she walks into a room. Maybe love is Becca, and I’ve just been too stupid to notice it until now.

  “Shakespeare didn’t know anything about love,” I murmur.

  “What are you talking about?” Her hand stills against me.

  My lips twitch with amusement at the sudden memory of the awful poetry I studied in high school. “When the pear tree blossoms, it also weeps,” I whisper against the side of her neck.

  “What? Can you please fuck me?” Becca whines, rocking her hips over mine.

  “Yes. I’m about to, angel.”

  And with that promise, I slide home, groaning at how warm and wet and wonderful she feels.

  Fuck.

  All my restraint is tested as she begins lifting her hips in time to my thrusts, demanding more.

  “Slow down. You’re going to make me embarrass myself.”

  She meets my eyes, the hint of a smile on her lips. As she touches my stubbled cheek with her palm, we slow our pace—enjoying watching each other.

  “Thank you for running with me today. And for the orgasm in the shower, and for the sandwich . . .”

  “I love you, Becca.”

  Her eyes widen, and suddenly I wonder if I shouldn’t have just blurted that out—if maybe I shouldn’t have said it during sex at all. Maybe there are rules about that kind of thing.

  But then a tear slips down her cheek, and her lips touch mine. “I love you too.”

  My heart squeezes inside my chest. Those words on her lips are the most beautiful sound in the world.

  We make love slowly, deliberately, taking our time with each other to wring out every last ounce of pleasure possible, like we never want this moment to end.

  But then our slow, leisurely lovemaking seems to speed up as Becca gets closer to the edge.

  “Harder,” she mumbles, clutching my ass.

  I groan as I give her what she wants—every inch of me.

  “Oh, fuck, Owen. It’s so good,” she says just before she comes undone.

  Gripping her tightly, I hold her close as she trembles around me. After her orgasm, she’s sensitive, and I slow down for a moment, my hips moving in lazy thrusts as she comes down from the high.

  We kiss again, and then I withdraw. “Turn around, angel,” I say, helping her up.

  Positioning herself on her hands and knees before me, Becca tosses me a sultry look over her shoulder and wiggles her behind.

  “I’m going to spank that sexy ass if you keep that up,” I tell her.

  She raises one brow, taunting me. “Come on, then, big boy. Or are you all talk?”

  “Definitely not all talk, babe.”

  23

  * * *

  My Favorite Goalie

  Becca

  It’s another Friday night at Hawks stadium, the same rap and pop music blaring through the speakers, the same fans screaming their heads off in the seats, and of course, the same players flying across the ice at top speeds.

  But something about tonight is different. Higher stakes. As if the entire crowd has their fingers crossed for good luck.

  It’s the last game of the regular season before the playoffs begin, and there’s a certain magic in the air that I can’t quite describe. Elise and I are watching from the same third-row seats we always get, both of us screaming and cheering until our throats are raw. I’m always enthusiastic on game day, but I can confidently say that I’ve never cheered louder than I have tonight.

  What can I say? I’m a sucker for the Seattle Ice Hawks. And lately, I have a bit more of an extra interest in one Hawk, in particular. All six feet, four inches of him, standing in the middle of the goal, his game face barely visible through his mask. Owen Parrish, number twenty-two on the ice and number one in my heart.

  All right, I may be a bit biased, based on the fact that he’s also my boyfriend, but Owen is hands down the hottest player in the league. He’s also one of the best goaltenders to ever skate across the ice. To say I’m proud would be a massive understatement.

  “Get ’em, Brady!” Elise cheers through her mouthful of soft pretzel.

  Without missing a beat, her boyfriend shoots a slap shot past the other team’s center, scoring his third goal of the game and increasing our lead by yet another point.

  The crowd is going absolutely nuts. We’re laying waste to Boston tonight, and as long as our defense keeps it up and Owen doesn’t lie down in the goal for the rest of the game, we’ll be able to count this game as another win.

  Boston calls a time-out, probably so their coach can wipe away a few of the players’ tears, and Elise snaps her head my way.

  “Are you coming out for drinks after to celebrate? I already reserved us a private room at the bar across the street.”

  “We haven’t won yet,” I remind her, searching around for some wood to knock on but finding none. I don’t want to jinx it.

  “Haven’t we, though?” She gestures toward the scoreboard just as music starts thumping through the stadium, keeping the crowd pumped up through the time-out.

  She’s right. There’s only about three minutes of game time left, but I’ve learned in hockey a lot can happen in three minutes. I pinch a piece off of Elise’s pretzel and pop it into my mouth.

  She scoffs in fake offense. “Get your own!”

  “I’m stress eating,” I joke, shooting her my best puppy-dog eyes as I lick salt off my fingertip.

  What can I say? They have the best soft pretzels here. And a little something in my stomach might not be such a bad thing if we’re getting drinks after this. Provided we don’t somehow blow this lead.

  Elise chuckles, tearing off another bite for me. “I don’t mind sharing. Unlike a certain brother of mine, who hoards his food like his life depended on it.”

  My memory flashes back to cooking breakfast with Owen in my kitchen this morning as I gave him a pep talk for tonight’s game. I cracked six eggs into the pan for him and he still looked at me wide eyed, like I was trying to starve him or something. I rolled my eyes but added two more.

  “Yeah, I think I value my life too much to stand between Owen and his food,” I say with a giggle.

  “Justin is the same way.” Elise’s eyes shift back to the ice as the time-out ends and the boys skate back out onto the ice. “He needs every last calorie he can get. I think if I could have any superpower, it would be the metabolism of a hockey player.”

  We both laugh, and I’m suddenly grateful beyond words for Elise’s friendship.

  Sure, I live and breathe hockey every day at my job, but dating a player is a totally different thing. And having a friend who understands what that’s like is a total godsend. I have someone to commiserate with about away games, crazy practice schedules, and all the other not-so-glamorous parts of dating a professional athlete. It also means having someone who understands that, even with all those things, it’s always worth it.

  “Three! Two! One!” We chant along with the crowd as the timer zeroes out and the buzzer sounds, signaling a Hawks victory.

  Yes! We’re going to the playoffs . . . twice in two years.

  Elise and I screech and jump to our feet, hugging and jumping in celebration. Down on the ice, the boys are slapping each other on the back and slamming their chests together. Justin and Teddy shake their hockey sticks over their heads, and Morgan, the rookie goalie, skates onto the ice and colli
des with Owen in a huge bro hug.

  Our boys did it. We’ve always known they were the best, but tonight they proved it.

  Elise turns my way, pointing a thumb toward the exit. “Wanna head to the bar before the fans overrun the place?”

  I nod, snatching up my purse and following her through the stadium and over to our favorite bar and grille across the street. The post-game footage is playing on every TV in the place, and fans in Hawks jerseys are all still slamming back beers and high-fiving one another. If only they knew who will be walking through the door in the next half hour.

  The hostess’s eyes light up in acknowledgment when she spots us, clearly recognizing our faces. Just another perk of running with a recognizable crowd.

  “You’re with the team, right?” she asks, excitement bubbling in her voice as she snags a stack of menus. “We’ve got your room all ready for you.”

  I hit up the group chat to let Sara, Bailey, and the boys know that we’ve arrived as we follow the hostess to the back of the bar and through a set of double doors. The private room is dimly lit with a spread of ice buckets full of champagne and rows of champagne flutes on every table. I guess the bar staff were just as confident as Elise was about the Hawks winning tonight.

  Elise and I get started on a bottle, and Sara and Bailey show up briefly after, helping us pop open a few more as the team starts filtering in.

  One by one, they roll in, each of them dressed in a suit and rocking the biggest, proudest smile. Justin is one of the last to show up, with Owen following right behind him.

  One glimpse of my man’s wide smile and that sexy-ass dimple piercing his cheek, and my heart is ready to burst with pride. I’m proud of him for helping bring his team to victory, but more than that, I’m proud to be the one on his arm while he celebrates their big win.

  “Wouldn’t you know, it’s my favorite goalie.” I reach out and snag Owen by his shirt, tugging him toward me for a deep congratulatory kiss. PDA isn’t really my thing, but the Hawks are going to the freaking playoffs, after all. I’ve got to kiss my man like the champion he is.

  “Favorite goalie? Are you saying you like him better than me?” Morgan interrupts our kiss, pouting briefly before downing a glass of bubbly in one gulp.

  Owen laughs, folding me tightly into his arms. “Sorry, dude. There’s only one goalie around here giving her orgasms, so my guess is you’re gonna lose out.”

  “Jeez, Owen.” I scoff, swatting his bicep. “Some things are meant to be personal, you know.”

  Owen shrugs, accepting a glass of champagne from Teddy, who is filling glasses with one bottle while drinking straight out of another. “My girlfriend is the hottest woman in the state of Washington. You can’t blame a guy for bragging a little.”

  Elise, who is on her second glass of champagne and cozied up in Justin’s lap, shakes her head in disbelief. “It’s still so weird to hear you say that, Owen. That Becca is your girlfriend. It’s crazy.”

  “I know, right? Can you believe a gorgeous woman like this would make an honest man out of me?” Owen presses a kiss onto my cheek and gives my butt a light slap at the same time. A little bit sweet, a little bit rough. I couldn’t describe him any better than that.

  “My brother, the honest man.” Elise laughs, lifting her glass in the air. “Cheers to that.”

  “And cheers to the motherfucking Hawks!” Teddy adds, gripping a bottle of champagne and raising it in the air.

  We all follow suit, holding our glasses high in what I’m sure will be the first of many toasts tonight.

  Before long, we’ve made our way through the bottles of champagne. While the bar has sent out plenty of appetizers to fuel the hungry team, we’re contemplating what to order next to keep this celebration going. Sara and Teddy peruse the menu, trying to make a decision about whether we should order bottle service or get pitchers of beer.

  “Whatever you get, just no tequila!” Owen laughs over the crowd. “Not unless you want Becca to start making bad decisions.”

  I elbow him in the ribs. “I will remind you that the last time I drank tequila, the stupid decision I made was agreeing to be your girlfriend.”

  “And the time before that,” he says with a grin, “you put the moves on me and started this whole thing in the first place.”

  I shrug, tugging flirtatiously at the hem of his shirt. “I guess those stupid decisions have benefitted you in the long run then, huh?”

  He shoots me a devilish grin as his hands wander down my hips, finding the curve of my ass and giving it a squeeze.

  “On second thought,” he whispers, nipping at my ear before turning his attention back to Teddy. “Actually, dude. Whatever they’ve got top shelf for tequila, let’s do bottle service of that. I’m looking to have a fucking good night.”

  I chuckle and lean back against Owen’s broad chest. He rests his chin on the top of my head as we stand together, and I love the feeling of being safe in his strong arms. He really is an amazing boyfriend—loving and funny and thoughtful.

  It’s surprised everyone how devoted and sweet he is, but he’s still Owen. He’s still a little adorably douchey—like when he’s traveling for an away game and sends me a dick pic because he misses me. And yeah, that actually happened. Twice.

  But he makes me laugh every single day, and I was way overdue for some laughter in my life.

  24

  * * *

  No Place Else

  Owen

  Several drinks later, we’re seated around a long table, reliving all the best moments of our win against Boston. My heroic save in the third period comes up, and I can’t help the smile lifting my lips as the guys do a damn fine job of stroking my ego.

  There are so many things I love about playing goalie, although I used to be resistant to the idea. When I was younger, I wanted to be one of the ones out on the center ice—making plays, checking my opponents, and hearing the fans go wild when I scored.

  Now I love it. Getting to play the entire game is high on the list of things I enjoy most, as is the feeling I get when my teammates each greet me at the net at the end of the game, knocking their helmet against mine, or giving me a thump on the back as if to say thank you.

  “Just don’t try to stop the puck with your face next time,” Teddy says, tipping his beer in my direction.

  “Eh. Whatever it takes. Am I right, bro?” Asher adds, giving me a wink from across the table.

  Becca gives me a death glare and waits for me to answer.

  I’m not saying anything. I may get my dick sucked tonight. Old Owen would blurt this out loud and get an eye roll. New Owen knows how to keep his trap shut. And may still get his dick sucked.

  Winning!

  I used to think I wasn’t boyfriend material, but now I see that I am. It just took the right girl to make me want to settle down. And that girl? She’s currently tucked into my side, resting her head on my shoulder.

  Across the table, Teddy leans in close to Sara and whispers something near her ear. She looks like she wants to smack him. Their relationship is confusing as all get-out. Sometimes I can’t tell if they hate each other, or if they want to fuck.

  “You two okay down there?” I ask, chuckling at Sara’s visibly rattled expression. I have no idea what TK could have just whispered to her.

  “Peachy,” she grumbles, shooting Teddy a look that screams behave, asshole.

  I chuckle and take another sip of my beer. Then I feel Becca’s lips at my neck, and my body gets a brand-new idea about how we can celebrate tonight’s victory.

  Turning toward her, I bring my mouth close to hers. She smiles.

  I give her a slow kiss, our lips brushing softly, gently, before she opens and slips her tongue in to touch mine.

  Hello, inappropriate public erection.

  “You want to get out of here?” I murmur, my voice husky.

  “Thought you’d never ask.” She smiles shyly.

  We say our good-byes against a chorus of complaints about how we’
re starting to behave like an old married couple. If old married couples have a lot of amazing sex, then sign me up. I’ll get down on one knee and propose right now.

  On the short cab ride back to my place, I gather Becca close, and she rests her head on my chest as we watch the streetlights pass.

  “What do you think was up with Teddy and Sara?” she asks.

  “You noticed that too, huh?” I chuckle, shaking my head.

  She nods. “Sometimes I can’t tell if they have chemistry or if she wants to kill him.”

  I laugh again, because she’s summed up my exact thoughts from a few moments ago. “Probably the latter, but something tells me if they did hook up, she’d eat him alive.”

  Sara is a tough-as-nails attorney with confidence galore, and if anyone was going to put the playboy Teddy in his place, it would be a woman like her.

  “That’d be fun to watch,” Becca says, grinning.

  Would it ever.

  The cab slows to a stop, and I pay the fare while Becca climbs out.

  While I unlock the front door, her hand dips into my back pocket and gives my ass a firm squeeze as she asks, “Are you sure you didn’t mind ducking out early tonight?”

  “Yeah, because having you naked in my bed is such a hardship.” I fight off a grin, holding open the door for her to walk in past me.

  She slips off her shoes on the way to my bedroom. “I just meant we could have stayed out if you weren’t ready to come home.”

  Pulling her into my arms, I press my face against her neck and inhale. She smells like sunshine and lavender and Becca. “There’s no place else I’d rather be.”

  Epilogue

  * * *

  Owen

  Two months later

  “Don’t worry, guys, she loves hockey,” I say as soon as my parents open the front door.

  Becca fidgets beside me, giving me a strange look.