My Forever (Our Forever Book 3)

by Elena Matthews

  I let out a breathless laugh as he pulls his hand away.

  “But do you want to know what’s not fair? It’s that you’re dressed like this, yet you still look fucking amazing. Chicks must hate you.”

  I fight back a smile and shrug my shoulders. “It’s why four out of five of my best friends are my brothers.”

  “Please tell me you were lying about your birthday, and you’re not spending it alone.”

  I shake my head, smiling. “No, of course not. I have my wine and junk food to keep me company. Oh, and the untimely demise of every character I ever loved.”

  He stares at me with disbelief before he pushes my cart to the side. “Yeah, I don’t think so. You’re coming with me.”

  He abandons his own cart, takes me by the hand, and leads us to the exit.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, still eyeing up my cart, my mouth salivating at leaving my wine. “Can I at least get my wine?”

  “No,” is all he says.

  “What about our stuff? I had ice cream in my cart. It’ll melt, and you know I feel about ice cream.”

  He looks back at me, grinning from ear to ear, and he must have some conscience when it comes to melting ice cream, as he pulls me in the direction of one of the nearest cashier clerks.

  “Hi. We were doing our shopping, and like an idiot, I forgot my wallet. I’d hate to dump and run, but any chance we can leave the carts with you? There’s ice cream and such, and I would hate for it to melt.”

  I watch with amusement as he slaps on the charm with this barely-out-of-school teen. She’s staring up at him, unblinking, mouth to the floor, one hundred percent affected by his godly presence.

  Welcome to my world, honey.

  “Um, yeah, that’s fine. I can do that for you,” she nervously replies. “You’re not by any chance, Chase Henderson, are you?”

  “Between me and you, yes, ma’am, I am, but for everyone else, my name’s Jeff, and I’m a stockbroker. I like to keep my life as incognito as possible.”

  She begins to giggle, and I have to resist rolling my eyes. “My brother loves you. Would you mind signing something for him? He’d be stoked.”

  “Yeah, sure. Do you have a pen and paper?”

  She grabs hold of a marker from her register and hands it to Chase. He takes it, all the while still keeping his left hand encased with mine. She then takes a quick look around her, as if checking that the coast is clear, and it seems her nerves have quickly dissipated because, like some crazy-ass peep show, she rips open her shirt, revealing a white bra and a pair of tits that put mine to shame. I stifle a laugh as I glance up at Chase and see he’s momentarily stunned. I guess it’s been a while since any puck bunnies have stripped for him.

  We should have just left the ice cream to melt.

  “Um, maybe a receipt would be better?” he suggests.

  But she just coyly smiles at him, tits still out.

  “Just sign them,” I whisper under my breath, so we can leave already, my lungs burning with the extreme need to laugh.

  “Whom should I sign it to?” Chase reluctantly asks.

  She replies with, “Lola.”

  He quickly signs the right cup to a “guy” named Lola, and we swiftly exit the store.

  As soon as he we hit the concrete, I double over with laughter. “She wanted to get something signed for her brother? Yeah, right, Lola!”

  Chase laughs along with me.

  “The things that happen at Walmart! Has that ever happened to you before?” I ask, my lungs still bursting with hysteria as I continue to laugh.

  “Yes, but it’s been a while.”

  “At least they were nice boobs,” I tell him as he leads me further into the parking lot.

  He cocks a brow at me.

  “What? They were. It could have been a lot worse. Could have been old grandma boobies.”

  He shivers at that before chuckling. “Yeah, you have a point. Just FYI, I don’t go around, signing boobs. That was in fact the first time I actually have.”

  “Hold the phone. You were an NHL hockey player for years, surrounded by God knows how many puck bunnies, yet you’ve never signed a set of tits until today?”

  He smiles at that but shrugs his shoulders. “There was nothing I wouldn’t sign—pucks, baseball hats, napkins, other players’ jerseys—but body parts and underwear while still being worn were off-limits. It felt disrespectful to Olivia to do so, you know? I was an NHL player, a fucking good one, but the lifestyle was never for me.”

  Olivia?

  “Olivia? Is that your …”

  “My wife,” he says before quickly correcting himself. “My ex-wife.”

  His attention returns to the parking lot in front of us, but I let my gaze stay on him. My heart physically aches at how fucking handsome he is with his strong jawline, full pink lips, five o’ clock shadow, the imperfect ridge of his nose, and stunning blue eyes. I don’t know the history of his divorce, but from what I’ve seen with my own eyes and the hurt I see there now, I have to take a wild guess and say she’s the cause of that pain. He obviously loved his wife a great deal, but God, to let a man like him go was probably the stupidest thing she could have ever done.

  I don’t know whether bumping into him tonight was a curse or a blessing, but having my hand encased in his feels right. His wife might not have realized what a great thing she had, but I do.

  I see it.

  I see him.

  I’m actually a little jealous that she obviously still holds his attention.

  I’m not sure what tonight will have in store for us or where the hell he plans on taking me or if he will decide to push me away again, but I can’t ignore the connection we have. Fate keeps bringing us together. That’s got to mean something, right?

  We come to a stop in front of a sleek black Ferrari, and I let out a low whistle.

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding about the Ferrari, were you? It’s like a friggin’ Batmobile.”

  He grins at me as he opens the passenger door. “I never kid when it comes to cars. Hop in.”

  “Wait, what about my car?”

  “We’ll come back for it later.”

  I lower myself in, and the leather seat molds to my ass just perfectly; making it probably one of the comfiest seats I’ve ever sat in. My eyes take in the bad-boy race-car interior, rugged yet smooth, and it honestly looks like it’s never been driven a day in its life; everything is pristine and dust-free. Chase definitely takes care of his baby.

  He closes my door and rounds the car to the driver’s side. I watch in amazement as his entire six-foot-two frame folds into the car like it was made for him and only him, and I squirm in my seat when heat pools inside my panties at the mere sight of him behind the wheel. My head swims a little, being engulfed in Chase’s scent that I swear smells like baby powder, and I desperately want to wrap myself around him and fall asleep, inhaling him.

  That, or lick him all over.

  God, I’ve never known a guy to smell so incredible.

  Once we’ve both fastened our seat belts, my entire body vibrates at the roar of the engine, deep and guttural, like a lion ready to attack, and everything inside me grows hot when he revs the engine a few times for effect.

  I swear, the vibrations reach places that even my own vibrator doesn’t touch.

  Fucking hell, I hope I’m not in the car for long because, with how much my clit is tingling, I’ll be climaxing in the car before the end of this journey.

  “So, are you going to tell me where you’re kidnapping me to?” I ask when he eases the car forward, and we leave the parking lot.

  He barks out a laugh. “I’m only kidnapping you for your own good.”

  “That still doesn’t answer my question though.”

  He briefly glances my way with an amused grin before focusing on the road in front of us as he pulls out into the street. My head slams back against the headrest as he races forward, my stomach lurching with a mixture of excitement and adrenaline.r />
  “That’s because I’m purposely avoiding answering.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, pouting. “Can I at least have a clue?”

  He scratches the stubble on his jaw, deliberating for a moment before his eyes flick to mine. “How good are you at ice-skating?”

  Nothing Can Ever Happen

  Chase

  Having Kaelyn only inches away within the small confines of the car is torture at its finest. It’s taking a lot of control not to reach over and touch her. Since that night a few weeks ago when I forced myself to walk away from the woman, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her, especially after seeing her at the ice rink. She has somehow managed to get under my skin, deeper than I ever could have anticipated for someone I’ve technically met only three times. It doesn’t feel like that though; it feels like I’ve known her a lot longer. I can’t even make sense of it—my feelings and the intense and undeniable connection between us.

  I know I should stay away from her, that she deserves more than me tumbling into her life when I have no business doing so, but when fate keeps throwing her into my path, the temptation becomes greater until I’m taking her by the hand, and I’m driving in the direction of the ice rink.

  When she told me she’d never skated before, I honestly wasn’t surprised. We live in Texas; it isn’t exactly renowned for its winter sports—with the exception of hockey, and even then, it isn’t on the top of the sports ranks. Football holds that title. I can’t deny that it feels good that she has never set foot on ice in her entire life because it means I can teach her; often, with newbies, they’re like Bambi on ice, and that will give me a good excuse to touch her.

  I’m a despicable man, I know, but I’ll take whatever I can get because I don’t know when I’ll get to touch her again.

  I pull into my designated space in front of the ice rink, my home away from home, and a thrill rushes through me at being able to share it with Kaelyn, especially after closing hours. It feels a little naughty, forbidden, as if I were breaking in. I’m not since I own every inch of this place—the only real positive thing that came from my time playing professional hockey. I get to help children reach for the stars, kids who wouldn’t ordinarily be able to with the shitty cards they’ve been dealt since birth. I’m proud for what this place represents.

  I might still be living through the hell of what my career caused, but this place is the only silver lining. The kids need this place just as much as I do. It’s my escape, and if it wasn’t for real life and what awaited me outside these doors, I’d happily live here.

  We exit the car, and when Kaelyn keeps in step with me, I don’t hesitate in taking her hand in mine. Fuck, if her hand in mine doesn’t feel incredible and perfect.

  “What did you think of the Ferrari?” I ask as we approach the entrance.

  “It is probably the sexiest car I’ve ever had the pleasure of sitting in. I can see why you love Italian-made things. Ferrari, beer, and food. Do you want to know an interesting fact?”

  “Always.”

  “I’m actually four percent Italian.”

  “Four percent? That’s specific.” I smirk.

  “I did one of those Ancestry DNA tests a while ago. I’m thinking the Italian gene must go way back. Like, my eighth cousin, twice removed or something.”

  “What other percentages are you?” I ask.

  She hums as she thinks for a moment. “Well, I’m eighty-six percent Native American, five percent Canadian, and three percent British, and two percent Irish.”

  “That’s actually pretty cool but definitely love that you’re a little bit Italian. It’s hot.”

  Her cheeks flame at that, and I squeeze her hand a little tighter in mine. The tint of pink in her cheeks turns me on like nothing else.

  I reluctantly let go of her hand to unlock the door. As we walk inside, I disarm the security alarm, and with a flick of a switch, light floods all around us. I lock the door from the inside, and I take Kaelyn’s hand back into mine as I lead us through to the ice rink via the changing rooms.

  “What size shoe do you wear?” I ask as I walk over to the skate cabinet where a bunch of new and used skates are held in the changing rooms.

  “I’m a six.”

  I look through the sizes until I come across a worn-in pair of size six skates. “I always take my gear home with me, but I have a spare pair of skates in a locker in my office.” I hand her the box. “You get them booted up and I’ll be back in a sec.”

  “Okay,” she replies with a smile.

  I’m back in less than sixty seconds, and I see her sitting on one of the benches, fastening up her second boot, her UGG boots placed neatly beside her. She looks up at my approach and rewards me with yet another smile. I swear, it zones in on my chest, and I physically lose the ability to catch my breath for just a single moment.

  “Do you think these are tight enough?” she asks as I approach her.

  I lower myself to my knees and set her right foot onto my thigh. “They’re a little loose,” I admit as I untie, adjust, and retie the laces with more pressure. It takes me almost a full minute until they’re tight enough for the ice, and then I double-knot them for good measure. I then repeat the process with her left foot, and even though I’m focusing on the job at hand, I feel her rapt attention on my hands as they fasten up her laces; there is nothing I love more than having her attention, her beautiful brown eyes solely on me.

  When I’m done, I grasp her leg with my hand and look up at her, my thumb gently caressing her leg through her thin sweatpants. “All tied up.”

  I grin, and Kaelyn’s eyes sparkle with lust, smiling naughtily at me. I keep my hand on her leg for a few more seconds, my mind thinking of all the dirty things I could do to her with my face eye-level at her crotch before I hesitantly let go and set her foot to the floor. I join her on the bench, remove my sneakers, and replace them with my game-winning boots.

  “What size do you wear?” She points to my skates.

  “I wear thirteen,” I reply.

  “Size thirteen, huh?” she questions with a flirty smirk. “You know what they say about guys with big feet?”

  I raise a brow. “They make good clowns?” I joke.

  She shakes her head. “No, they have large shoes.”

  She cracks up laughing, and I chuckle, not anticipating that answer.

  “That was lame. I thought you were going to tell me something dirty.”

  “Oh, that’s a total myth. I do follow the whole hand rule though.”

  She holds her hand out in an L-shape, and I bust out laughing. I follow suit with my hand, and after a moment of deliberating how accurate that is, I grin a Cheshire cat smile.

  “Wow, that’s oddly precise.”

  She glances at my hand, and then her eyes flickers down to my crotch before returning her gaze to me. “No wonder your ex-wife married you.”

  The mention of Olivia is usually a sore spot, but I genuinely laugh at her comment.

  I finish fastening up my laces and stand. “So, since you’re a newbie skater, the skates might take a little while to get used to, and I’m not talking about skating. I mean, walking in them can be a little difficult.”

  I hold out my hand, and she accepts it. To my surprise, she seems steady on her feet as she steps closer to me.

  “You do know you’re talking to an ex-ballet dancer who used to dance en pointe. I’m guessing the same biomechanics of balancing applies to ice-skating, too?”

  I smile. “You seem awfully confident for someone who has never skated before.”

  “Correction: I have skated before but with wheels and not blades sharp enough to decapitate a person.”

  I snort. “Decapitate a person? Really?”

  “I’ve seen the Winter Olympics; I’ve seen the type of accidents they can sustain.”

  “Yeah, figure skating is full of decapitated heads sliding across the ice,” I deadpan mockingly.

  She playfully hits me across the chest.
“You’re an ass,” she points out.

  I can feel my mouth twitch with humor. “Well, you’ve still got mascara on your face,” I fire back, fighting back a laugh.

  I’m not lying either; she still has mascara smeared under her eyes. She balks at that before hurrying a little unsteadily over to one of the full-length mirrors in the locker room, mumbling something about Grey’s Anatomy being the worst as she wipes it away. She walks back over to me, smirking at me still smiling at her.

  “So, are you going to finally show me why you brought me here?” she asks with sass that turns me the fuck on.

  God, what I would love to do to that mouth.

  “Yeah, come on.”

  We walk through a different door than the one we entered, one that leads directly to the ice rink. I find the main floor light switch, and the fluorescent lighting flickers to life from one side of the ice rink to the other.

  “First, I want to see how you are on the ice before I show you why I brought you here.”

  “I’m sure it’s like riding a bike,” she says while she rubs her hands together, shivering a little from the change in temperature.

  I stifle a laugh at her nonchalant attitude, brushing off ice-skating as easy as riding a bike.

  Yeah, right.

  She follows me to the opening of the rink. Once we remove our skate guards, I slide easily onto the ice, and she stays back for a minute. I show off a little by skating backward in a zigzag line before making my way back over to her, skidding to a stop.

  “Okay, show me what you got.”

  She doesn’t show an ounce of trepidation as she takes a single step on the ice. She’s confident, and I like that. However, it all goes to shit when she steps her other foot onto the rink, and her skates give out beneath her. Luckily, I’m there to catch her before she falls on her ass.

  Like I said earlier, most newbies turn into Bambi the minute they step onto the ice for the very first time. Kaelyn is no exception.

  “Whoa.” She gasps as she clutches tightly onto my sweatshirt.

  I smile at her as I pull her up against me.