by Amanda Cowen
“I don’t understand how you can be so damn stubborn.” His calm exterior cracks slightly. “You were right to walk away from me the first time. You need to go —” “”
“You’ve made your position very clear.” Him pushing me away like this sets me off. But nothing feels more immediate than my feelings for him, particularly knowing he’s pushing me away to protect me. “The last thing you need is for me to walk away right now. You’re balls deep into a bottle of whiskey. You’re still healing from your concussion. And as much as you keep on telling me you don’t want me here, I know you do, because I know you better than anyone. There is nothing more that I want than to be here with you. Have I ever lied to you, or kept anything from you? I want to learn to trust you again. I want to be with you. You act like I’ve never been hurt and that trust comes easily to me. It doesn’t.”
“I know.”
“And I know my father came here and forced your hand to give me this plane ticket and push me away. I’m not letting you do that because I know that’s not what you really want. You want me, just like I want you.” I pull out the plane ticket from my back pocket and tear it up in front of him. “It’s me and you, Cash. And I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago.” I snake the empty glass from his hand.
I push past him. Without looking back, I walk through the living room and into his kitchen. I put his glass into the sink, feeling his eyes on my backside. I grab the open bottle of whiskey on the countertop and pour it down the drain. Slowly, I turn around to face him.
“Are you done?” he asks, eyes searching mine.
“I know how hard it was for you to talk to me about your brother and mother. And I know you are ashamed about not telling me the truth about Daniela. I know you’ve been alone, struggling with alcohol, and as you might have heard, I have a little history with addiction.”
“What’s your point, Quinn?”
“I’m not leaving. And if you love me, you will check yourself into a treatment program. I am here for you. You don't have to do that part by yourself anymore.”
“I don’t have a problem. And I don't need help.”
“You are going to ruin your second chance in the pros. You cannot keep doing this over and over again. You have got to get some help.”
“I don't have to do a damn thing. There's nothing wrong with me. You’re the one who needs to get on a plane right now.”
“I watched you drink a glass of whiskey before noon, and I dumped a half-empty bottle. How can you deny you have a problem right to my face? One minute I feel like you are finally ready to choose us, and then my father says one thing to you and hands you a plane ticket and you say shit like that.”
“Quinn, I choose you. I always choose you every time, and I don't know when you're going to start believing it and stop making me try to prove it all the time. Did you think I didn’t want to tell your father to fuck himself when he handed me that plane ticket? Do you think I want him to be right about how much better off you’d be without me? Of course I don’t, Quinn. Because as much as I want you, it isn’t fair to you. He’s right. I’m all wrong for you.”
“And what was I supposed to think, Cash? You finally let me in to your past, told me about Daniela, and we didn’t just have sex these past few days…we made love over and over and over again. I’ve missed you. I’ve been miserable without you in my life. I’ve tried to move on, but I can’t because being with you again has been amazing. It didn’t seem reasonable that it was you who wanted me to leave.”
“It was amazing. Falling absolutely in love with you has been really fucking amazing. Isn’t it supposed to be that way? Just because I love you more than anything doesn’t mean I’m good enough for you. Fuck, Quinn. I’ve been wrecked for the past six months without you. Positively ruined. And forcing you out my door again...it’s been fucking torture. But it’s the right thing to do.”
I press a hand to my stomach, feeling like I need to physically hold myself together.
“I am so in love with you.” He sighs, and stares down at his bare feet, and doesn’t say anything else. “And I don't want to be this couple that pushes each other away when things get tough all the time.”
In my chest, my heart twists tightly. “I don't either.”
“I want us to be the couple that we've always been.”
“You mean me being kept in the dark and you pretending like nothing is wrong?”
“Quinn—”
“Cash. I can’t keep on being in the dark. I’m sorry, but right now I need you to prove to me that you choose me—us. Because my mother was always quick to say I was number one in her life too. So unless you show me that you choose me. Your words mean nothing to me.”
“I’ll prove it,” he says, heaving a sigh.
“Good. Because I choose you.”
He nods once, but doesn’t look back up, doesn’t even say a word. I step closer, stretch to kiss his cheek, and only make it to his jaw because he won’t bend to meet me.
“Cash, I’m not going anywhere. I know you think my father is right, but he’s not. I’m here…I’m staying…” I stop, hating how still he remains. “Look at me.”
Cash’s big blue eyes meet mine. I didn’t realize how close I’d been standing against the countertop until I’m pressed against it, Cash’s mouth is warm and sliding over mine, whispering my name over and over. I am so wrapped up in the intensity of my own relief that I close my eyes, open my mouth, and let his tongue slide across mine. He drags his teeth down my jaw, and sucks at my neck.
“Cash,” I whisper, tugging his hair to pull his head back to mine.
I can’t stop smiling. I feel like my face is going to crack in half. He looks at my lips, his eyes hooded as if he was drunk from me and not the whiskey.
“Does this mean you’re letting me stay?” I ask.
“Did I really have a choice?” He gives a rueful shake of his head, leans forward, and kisses me once more.
“We’re going to figure us out.” I pull away, searching his eyes as they grow more sober. “I promise.”
Chapter 17
Cash
Friday afternoon I’m in a crap mood. The team physician told me my skates wouldn’t touch ice for at least another month. My head is pounding, my lips haven’t touched a drink, and Quinn’s been in the shower for the past twenty minutes without me. I roll onto my side, pull a pillow over my head, and groan into the mattress. This concussion is butchering me. I can’t even get out of bed to properly fuck my wet and slippery girlfriend.
The shower pipes screech to a halt, exciting the ever-loving shit out of me as the bathroom door flies open. Her smooth, bare, and wet body strolls into the room.
Quinn leans forward, grinning. “Let me under those sheets already. I’m cold.”
It takes several seconds for my brain to connect to my mouth and my body. She looks phenomenal. I love her au-natural and without an ounce of makeup. “Shit. Yeah. Get that naked body in here.”
Shuffling over to the other side of the bed, I pull back the sheets and look over at her.
“You look a little grumpy.” She nuzzles up against my side, giving me her strange, elusive smile.
“Fucking concussion,” I say, eyeing her. “I feel super weak, and my head is killing me.”
“Poor baby. Need a cuddle?” She has a fire in her eyes I haven’t seen since the night I made her a blanket fort.
Seeing her lie completely naked in my bed and feeling her soft skin pressed up against my body is frustrating as hell. Feeling so nauseous and not being able to give her what she wants sucks. I gaze down at her left breast, so round and soft, her nipple hard and pink.
“God I love you,” I tell her cleavage. “I’m having such a bad day. Can I please bury my face in you?”
She giggles and changes her voice to some goofy high-pitched tone, pretending her tits can talk. “We would be delighted to let you rub your stubble all over us.”
“Fuck, Quinn, I wish my head wasn’t poundin
g like a motherfucker. I’m dying to be inside you.” I rub my face all over her tits, even giving each nipple a little lick.
Quinn giggles again and when I pull away she cuddles up closer to my side and lets out a tiny sigh.
“You look so beautiful.” I lean to kiss her.
“You always say that, especially when I get out of the shower.”
I shrug and lick her neck. Fuck. She tastes like strawberries and cream. “Let me take you out tonight.”
She shakes her head, laughing. “No. You aren’t feeling well. Not a good idea.”
“I don’t care. I want to go out in public with you. There’s nothing to hide from anymore. Hilton knows. Daniela knows. We deserve a coming-out party.”
“I don’t know.” She straightens, staring out the window, not looking at me.
I reach for her hand and slip my fingers between hers. “You said you choose me. And I said I will prove it to you that I choose you. Which means you should agree to go out with me in public tonight.”
Quinn’s eyes widen as she glances around my bedroom. “Okay,” she says quietly, her gaze searching mine. “But can I request something?”
With her hair tucked behind her ears and looking so small sitting up beside me, I feel a completely foreign panic. Was this all wrong for her? Was this not what she wanted?
“Anything,” I tell her.
She grins. “If you take me out on a real date I want the whole nine yards. You waiting patiently in the living room for me to get ready. Then you take me out for a fancy dinner where you try to impress me. Afterward, I want a stroll down the beach where you hold my hand. Finally, you drop me off at the spare bedroom and give me a good night kiss.”
I look at her fingers woven between mine and then up to her smiling face. “What Mittens wants, Mittens gets.”
“Good.” She giggles. “Because what Mittens wants right now is for you to rest up with some serious cuddling and an epic nap.”
She slides down beside me again and cozies up next to me. I smile against the top of her head and plant a few kisses on her damp hair. I close my eyes and wrap my arms tightly around her. I take a deep breath, and I am slowly lulled to sleep by the sound of our hearts beating together and all around us.
___________
By the time I wake up from our nap, the high from the thought of taking Quinn out on a real date in public fizzles into a strange ache beneath my ribs. She isn’t in my bed anymore, but I can hear her moving around the kitchen. I toss my blankets off and lean back against the headboard, looking into the inky darkness of my bedroom. My place is much smaller than my penthouse back in Bexley, but in the past week that Quinn has been here in Santa Anna, this place feels more like home to me than my mother’s house in Newfoundland.
Without turning on any lights, I strip down as I make my way to the bathroom and step into the shower. I stand under the hot spray and close my eyes, hoping the sound of water will drown out the noise in my head. It doesn’t work. My muscles are tense and sore and the subtle ache in my chest makes it almost impossible for my thoughts to not continually circle back to Quinn and what she has given up for me.
I’ve never been the type of guy to obsess over a woman, but when it comes to Quinn, she’s all I can think about. Quinn isn’t only gorgeous, she’s amazingly smart, creative and driven. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew I had to have her. It wasn’t until we had sex that I knew we were truly compatible. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around how someone as remarkable as Quinn has come into my life, but her unconditional love pushes me up like steam beneath my skin, warm, and comforting, and impossible to ignore. Quinn accepts me, embraces me even, as easily as she does everything else.
I turn off the water, suddenly too warm. For a beat, I regret not sending her back to Boston. But I remind myself that this is what she wants, I am what she wants, and when Quinn makes up her mind about something there is no chance in changing it.
I’ve lived without the privilege to touch her skin, taste her sounds, and feel her smooth body all night long. But when I walk into my bedroom and study my reflection in the mirror on my wall, I look suddenly unfamiliar to myself. I stand straighter, my eyes are brighter, and I smile more.
I run my fingers over the ring she made me now bound on my left ring finger and smile. Even I can see there’s some hope in my eyes that hadn’t been there before.
__________
“I wish those girls would stop staring,” Quinn says, as I press my lips to her forehead, and run a fingertip along her cheek, smoothing the skin there. I kiss one cheek and then the other, brushing my nose along her jaw on my way back to her ear. I can’t keep my hands off of her.
“Who cares,” I whisper. “Let them stare. You’re a babe, and I’m the luckiest man in the world right now.”
I lean back in my chair and smile at the sight of Quinn sitting beside me at a local restaurant, trying to calm her down as I pretend to survey the room. Moonlight shines in through the ocean side windows, casting slanted shadows across the plank flooring throughout the dining area. The furniture is very modern with clean lines, and surprisingly very stylish.
“They aren’t staring because I’m a babe,” she says matter-of-factly. “They are staring because I’m with you. Cash Brooks. Sex on skates.” She pops her last piece of steak into her mouth and then takes a slow sip of water to wash it down.
I smooth a hand down my mouth, over my chin, holding her gaze. She has no idea how beautiful she is and how much a room lights up with her presence. I may be the hockey star, but no one would stare at me this long if I weren’t with such a stunning and classy woman like Quinn. Her hair is pulled up into a sleek ponytail, and her lipstick is a cherry red. She’s wearing some sort of girly frilly skirt that stops right above the knee and shows off her long legs. Her top is tight and red, and her breasts look fan-fucking-tastic.
All I can think about is how much I would love to lift that tight-ass tank over her head and unzip that skirt to see it all fall around her waist. Or maybe drop to the floor.
“Forget them,” I say with a shrug. “This is our coming-out party. And I love being out with you in the public eye for once. And of course, I love that you’re all jealous and whatnot of those girls making eyes at me,” I tease, but become serious. “But the only girl I’m staring at is you, Mittens.”
She waits, thinking. For the first time, I realize she’s not blushing from my teasing. I can see love in her eyes—really see it, without uncertainty or distrust looming behind. I like the way she always studies things, especially me.
She finally gives into the smile she’s been fighting. “Tell me, Mr. Brooks. Is our coming out everything you’ve dreamed of and more?”
I take her hand from under the table, lift it to my mouth and kiss her palm. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Click
I crank my head to the right to see some guy snapping pictures of us from outside the restaurant window. I bang my fist on the glass. “Hey, get out of here.”
The guy continues to snap photos of us, and other guests turn their attention to our table. I’m shaking inside, trying to hide how incredibly furious I am that this douchebag is ruining our dinner with his need to broadcast my love life in the tabloids. Quinn doesn’t deserve this.
“I said get out of here!” I yell again, before I feel Quinn’s soft hand cover mine.
I glance across the table at her, to see her smiling darkly at my lips. “What’s a coming-out party if you don’t give the people what they want?” she whispers.
“You’re okay with this?” I ask cautiously. “These pictures are going to be all over the internet tomorrow.”
With a wicked smirk, Quinn reaches behind me and I feel my eyes falling closed, my senses rising in anticipation of her touch. She gently runs her fingers through my hair, barely brushing her mouth against the nape of my neck as she leans in and kisses me gently on the lips. I can hear the click, click, click, of the camera outside, unti
l Quinn pulls away from our kiss. She turns her head, so she’s facing the photographer and gives him a wave with a big smile on her face. She looks back to me with a wink, “It’s confirmed. We’re officially a real couple now, Brooks.”
____________
Couple Alert!
Cash Brooks might finally be off the market. In a photo taken last night, Quinn Ashby, the daughter of Hilton Ashby (ex-NHL goaltender and current president of the Santa Anna Tornadoes and their affiliate AHL team, the Bexley Bruisers) is seen cozying up to Santa Anna Tornadoes center-ice bad-boy Cash Brooks during a romantic dinner date at Fellinos, an Italian restaurant in downtown Santa Anna.
The two haven't come forward publicly with any announcement of their relationship—if it is, indeed, a relationship—but Ashby made it clear Brooks was her man when she planted her cherry-red lips on him for the camera. Furthermore, Ashby and Brooks posted a selfie at Flamingo Beach later that night on Ashby's Instagram, further fueling speculation that the two might be hockey’s latest item. Ashby is a Harvard Business School student, but from how friendly they looked together, it seems spring break has been pretty good to her and Brooks.
It seems like it's only a matter of time before the two officially announce their coupledom. Hopefully, Daddy approves of his little girl hooking up with hockey’s biggest headliner.
I feel Quinn smile against the side of my face as we both finish reading the article on my iPad. The bed shifts, and my breath ruffles her hair. I keep my features relaxed, my exhales even, because I don’t want her to see how worried I am that our relationship is finally out in the open. Daniela is not going to react well to the news. The only saving grace is that Quinn loves me and I can finally let the world know she’s mine.
“Well, looks like the entire world knows now, Mittens . . .”
I struggle to hide how much she affects me, how my present thoughts can barely be torn from the fantasy of my fists in her hair, the way my thumbs can completely cover her small pink nipples or how her clit is the softest part of any body I’d ever touched. All night long I wore her out with my cock, but I still want to taste her from her toes to her earlobes even though we just woke up.
