by Elise Faber
“You . . . didn’t . . .” He leaned back and raised a brow. “Finish?” God, what the hell was wrong with her? She actually felt her cheeks grow warm, and she wasn’t the embarrassed type. It was just . . . she gave a shit whether he’d had a good time. No. It was more than that. She wanted him to have had as good a time as she had.
The other brow came up. “I finished.”
“Oh,” she said, eyes drifting up to the ceiling. “I—I just—”
Kevin shifted, moving away from the door, and carrying her further into the apartment. “I just what, baby?”
She dropped her head to his shoulder, feeling ridiculously stupid. “Never mind.”
They stopped.
And didn’t move.
For an eternity.
Finally, she lifted her head to meet Kevin’s eyes.
“Did I do something you didn’t like?” he asked, expression deadly serious. “Fuck, sweetheart, did I hurt you?”
“God, no,” she said quickly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “No,” she added when it seemed like he would protest. “It was fucking incredible. I—I just couldn’t help but feel you’re still hard and thought that maybe . . .”
His mouth tipped up. “That I’d faked it?”
A shrug. “No, not that.” Or not until he’d mentioned it. “I just thought maybe . . . you hadn’t gotten there yet.”
He started walking again. “I got there.” A beat. “Fucking best there of my life.”
Okay, that made her feel good. “But you’re still . . .” Pathetically, she trailed off again.
“Hard?”
She bit her lip, nodded.
“Baby,” he said, mouth curving into a smile that had her thighs clenching around his waist. “I’m twenty-four.”
What the hell did that have to do with anything?
He bent to nip her earlobe. “You date a younger man, baby, you get all the benefits.”
Oh.
She hooked her ankles together, arched slightly so the hard length of him still inside of her hit . . . just . . . the . . . right . . . spot. They both groaned, her lids sliding closed because the feel of him inside her was the freaking best, and it was a moment before she could ask, “Is a short recovery time one of those benefits?”
Another shift. More groans.
“Probably the best of them,” he murmured, plunking her ass onto the back of her couch, sliding out then back in, out and in.
Then he kissed her.
And showed her that a short recovery time was a really, fucking great benefit indeed.
“I’ll see you on Friday,” he murmured, kissing her cheek a little over a week later. The bus was idling outside of the rink, ready to take the team to the arena. They were taking a road trip to Vegas, Dallas, Los Angeles, and Anaheim before returning home for an extended home stand.
But Rebecca was neck-deep in a new rollout for the team’s public relations outreach, and it had been her baby over the last several months.
New technology and P.E. equipment for each of the local schools in the district.
One-to-one tablets for every student from third grade up through high school, fancy phonics book sets for the kids in kindergarten through second. But the team wasn’t just providing money for the initial setup of the technology, the Gold’s owner, Pierre Barie, had matched the fundraising from the campaign, and that was going into a fund for the maintenance of the equipment and periodic replacement of the books. Not to mention the P.E. equipment.
The schools would have balls for days.
She smirked, and Kevin cupped her cheek. “You’re thinking about my balls again, aren’t you?”
Laughing, she rose on tiptoe and brushed her mouth across his. “Yes. That I am.”
“I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I know how hard you’ve been working on this. I’m glad your big day is finally here.”
She nodded, stepped back. “I couldn’t have done it without the team.”
“And modest, too.” He bent, kissed her once more, but just when it was getting good, Stefan’s voice echoed across the parking lot.
“Beep, beep!”
They broke apart, rotated to face Stefan and his wide ass smirk. “That’s the bus’s horn, in case you were wondering,” he called. “Wheels up, Hayes!”
Kev nodded then turned back to her and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. And God, she loved when he did that. “Bye, baby. Call you tonight.”
“Bye.”
Another smile and then he jogged to the bus, taking a chunk of her heart with him.
They’d spent nearly every night of the last week together, and the one that they hadn’t—him with the team for a quick trip up to Vancouver, her putting the finishing touches on the rollout, which she’d titled (rather brilliantly she thought), Gold Give Back—he’d Facetimed her and they’d talked until they’d both fallen asleep.
She’d given in to him, in to her own hopes and dreams, and it had been . . . easy.
Effortless.
As though they were always meant to be together and she’d been fighting her pull to him for absolutely no good reason.
Nine nights. Five at her place. Four at his bachelor pad a few streets over. And ten glorious days wrapped up in the amazingness that was Kevin. Because they’d slept together, shared meals and made love, fucked then cuddled, watched bad Netflix shows, and . . . it had been the best ten days of her life.
Sighing, she waved as the bus pulled out of the lot then she went into the building, slipping through the side door that led to her office. It felt strange to have her bag on her shoulder, since Kev always snagged it for the walk in.
Usually before he slipped some sort of thoughtful trinket into her hand to stop her protest—a pack of her favorite gum, matching earrings to go with the necklace, a reusable coffee mug that said Bad Bitch on the side and was an ode to her favorite song of the moment.
He knew her favorite song. Hell, he knew all her favorites.
She’d asked him how many more gifts he had, and his only response had been, “Enough.”
So, aside from putting the finishing touches on her project, she was taking the next three days to get a stockpile of her own. Her lips twitched as she opened the door to her office and strode in, dropping her purse on her chair. In fact, she’d already started, having slipped a little something into his messenger bag just that morning.
Her phone buzzed just as she took in the sight on her desk.
“Oh, Kev,” she murmured.
A cute purple tray—her favorite color, btw—was on the corner of her desk, filled with her favorites. A mug full to the brim with steaming hot coffee, a muffin perfectly centered on a floral-lined plate, and sitting next to it was a bowl of sliced fruit.
Her phone buzzed again, and she extracted it from her purse.
I was supposed to be the one with the surprise this morning.
Her lips curved, fingers flying across her cell’s screen.
I like your surprise very much. Thank you.
Barely a heartbeat before her phone vibrated.
Baby, it’s too much.
It was hardly anything, concert tickets for a band he’d mentioned he liked, but nothing that could compare with what he’d done for her over the last month, the last years. She hadn’t realized how much life she’d been missing out on by hiding beneath her armor. Yes, she’d stayed safe, yes, she’d had friends, but she’d never told them what she’d told Kevin, never opened up the same way, and because she’d always held back a piece of herself, there had never been as deep of connection as what she had with Kev.
She loved them, loved Brit and the other Rebecca, loved Sara and Anna and Angie. But it just wasn’t the same.
For some reason, the universe had granted Kevin the key to her heart and—
Fuck that.
She’d granted him the key because he’d earned it, earned her trust, had persisted and made her realize that while she couldn’t give him
every single thing, while she couldn’t know what the future held, what she could do was grab hold of the present in front of her and live life like a motherfucker.
Her cell buzzed.
Baby, you okay?
She smiled.
I’m perfect. I was just having a revelation.
A beat then,
What kind of revelation?
Rebecca didn’t think, just went with her gut, her heart, and typed.
The kind where I realized how much I love you.
And nothing. Silence. Absolutely no response for several long minutes. Minutes during which she realized that she should have thought, should have used her PR skills to make the first time she’d ever told a man that she loved him a grand gesture.
Or at the very least, not a blurted, unplanned text message.
She sank into her office chair, collapsed back against the leather, and tried not to bang her head against her desk.
Kevin was into her and maybe she’d moved a little fast with the verbal or text declarations, but they’d moved fast. They’d gone zero to a hundred, and she knew he was right there with her.
Her cell buzzed.
Throat tight, she reached for it and glanced at the screen.
Baby, I’m so sorry. We were boarding the plane.
Relief poured through her, but not too much because it only took her a heartbeat to realize he hadn’t said it back.
He. Hadn’t. Said. It. Back.
Fuck.
Buzz. Buzz.
She jumped, saw that it wasn’t a text. Kevin was calling her. FaceTiming to be precise. She scrambled to answer it, almost dropped her phone as she attempted to swipe.
But then she managed, and his face appeared on the screen.
His beautiful, smiling face.
“Baby,” he said.
She bit her lip. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“I love you, too.” A grin. “Had to tell you that while staring into those gorgeous chocolate eyes.”
“Kev.” Her breath caught. Then, “Say it again?”
Amusement crawled across his expression. “You want the boys to hear? To give us shit?”
Teeth nibbling into her lip again. “Um—”
But Kev wasn’t listening. Because he’d spun, and she realized he must have gone to the back of the plane to call her. Rows of airplane seats appeared behind his shoulders, and she saw the team settling in for the short flight. “Guys!” he called.
“And girl!” Brit called back.
Rebecca laughed.
“My woman just told me she loves me!”
There were catcalls and whoops.
“Finally,” Mike said, moving past Kevin to find his seat, but he was smiling and lightly punched Kev on the shoulder as he went.
“I hope you said it back,” Stefan said.
“Damn right, I did.”
Brit’s smiling face popped up on the screen. “Get it, girl!”
“Get a room,” Max teased.
“She wants me to say it again,” Kev announced.
“Oh, lord,” Rebecca muttered.
“I hate to end romance time,” Bernard said. “But we need to take off, so tell your woman you love her and get your ass in your seat.”
Kev nodded. “Sorry, coach.” He shifted to let Bernard by.
“Happy for you, son.”
And then it was just Kevin on the screen again. “Gotta go, baby.”
“You didn’t say it again.”
A flash of white teeth. “I love you, sweetheart.” More catcalls and whooping greeted his words. His voice dropped, almost inaudible over the noise. “And I can’t wait to tell you that every day of forever.”
Her heart swelled. “I love you, too.”
Warm gray eyes. “Bye, baby.”
They hung up, Rebecca’s gaze catching on the tray on her desk, and she burst into tears, but the good kind this time.
Eighteen
Kevin
Friday night at The Mine, and the arena was hopping.
The team was off to a great start for the season, the fans were loud, and his woman was nearby, snapping pictures of the team near the bench.
She wanted a complete set of the guys in their alternate jersey for something PR related, but Kevin didn’t care. He loved having her close by at any time, but knowing she was near enough to watch the game was like a drug.
He played harder, skated smarter.
Trying to impress her.
Silly, but he hadn’t had a chance to see her before the game, hadn’t gotten to see her to tell her in person that he loved her.
The plane had arrived late the night before, and she hadn’t been at the arena because she was getting ready for the huge press release that had happened earlier that afternoon. She’d gone to one of the schools in a low-income area to help set up the equipment, to deliver the books then had led the press conference to discuss Gold Gives Back.
With two kindergartners crawling all over her, a stack of books in each of their hands, huge smiles on their faces.
But it hadn’t compared to the one on her face.
She absolutely loved kids, was great with them, and couldn’t have them. Fuck, the universe was cruel sometimes.
Still, Kevin wasn’t going to dwell on what they couldn’t have.
He was going to cherish the fuck out of what they did have—
Shit.
He dodged a huge ass player on the other team just in the nick of time, avoiding being creamed into the boards and getting a pass off to Blue. Then he forced himself to focus on the game.
Moved his feet. Skated hard to the net, sliding back door and low to give Blue options and, like the dreaded drill from a month before, one they’d been repeating at practice frequently, he was a sneaky motherfucker. This time, the defense didn’t leave him uncovered, but as he skated back, the d-man followed Kevin, moving just enough out of position that Blue had a lane into the net.
Blue drove hard, ducked around a player, lined up a shot, and . . .
Kevin lurched forward, dragging the defensemen with him, and screening the goalie at the same time the puck careened toward the net . . .
And goal!
A celly—the official hockey term for a post-goal celebration—from Blue, followed by man hugs and fist bumps all around, and a smile from Rebecca that made his heart pound. But then the game went on. More skating. More goals—though ultimately, more for the Gold than their opponents. More hockey. And more smiles from his woman.
Yeah, life was good.
He got off the ice, dripping sweat, but the equipment manager, Richie, had his back. He took Kev’s helmet and handed him a towel before he had to ask for it.
This was because the post-game team was waiting for him to answer a few questions.
They were rapid-fire as always.
A few comments about things that went well, things they could improve on. Sound bites because there wasn’t time for anything else, but Rebecca was damned good at her job, she’d given them all talking points as a basis, simple topics and suggestions they could build on. Not to filter their responses so much as to give them something to say in case they froze up.
As a rookie, especially, he’d appreciated the cheat sheet.
Now that he was more comfortable, it was still nice to have them in the back of his mind in case he was distracted, for example, by things like Rebecca looking hot as hell with her camera around her neck, tight skirt and blouse on, strappy red heels, and the gray bag he’d bought her slung over one shoulder.
He finished up the interview, said bye to the guys, then crossed over to her and slipped her bag from her shoulder.
“Hi, baby,” he murmured, hesitating to touch her because he was all sweaty.
She placed her hands on his chest, rose on tiptoe, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Hi.”
Kev didn’t waste a moment, just got real close to her ear and whispered. “I love you.”
She shuddered but leaned back with a smile.
“I love you, too.”
What neither of them realized was that the cameras were still running.
The text message was waiting on his phone when he got into the locker room.
Dinner ASAP. Call me. You’ll be bringing the woman you’ve declared your love to on national TV.
Oh, fuck.
Yes, he’d been avoiding his mother as of late. Yes, it hadn’t exactly been difficult, not when she’d been so excited about her new life in the city that she hadn’t had time for him when he did call.
She’d found a knitting club, joined a reading group at the bookstore beneath her apartment. She was getting out of the city every other week, visiting a different part of the state.
In hog heaven.
Or had been.
Until he’d neglected to mention Rebecca to her.
It wasn’t that he’d intentionally kept the fact that he was seeing someone seriously from her. Things hadn’t been settled between him and Rebecca until just over a week ago, and he and his mom had both been gone at different intervals during that same timeframe.
He’d planned on a dinner to introduce the two important women in his life to one another. What he hadn’t planned on was the cameraman all but outing his relationship with Rebecca on national TV.
Mick was a good guy, probably thought it was sweet, and Rebecca often dealt in the softer sides of the guy.
And when he said national TV, it wasn’t like he was suddenly on TMZ and the media would be following him. Kev didn’t have that kind of pull. People, the team aside, didn’t really give a shit who he dated . . . or hadn’t dated up until this point.
His mother, on the other hand?
Yeah, she cared.
She might be all in on the giving him space and letting him live his own life thing, but if he told a woman he loved her, then she damn well expected to meet that woman at some point.
And usually before the declaring himself on TV part.
Shit.
He wondered if Rebecca would freak. He’d finally gotten her to come out of her shell, to accept dating him, to accept loving him, would a forced meeting with his mother make her run again?
