Resistance on Ice - SR GREY

by Grey, S. R.

  “I love you,” I reply without thinking.

  I expect to feel panic at this inadvertent omission, but I don’t. In fact, it feels good to say those words to her, even if she is sleeping. It’s what I planned to tell her tonight, anyway.

  Well, the words are out there now, for better or for worse. If only she knew the power they hold to break me. Because I mean those words—I fucking love Lainey Shelburne.

  I say them again, a little more forcefully. “I love you, Lainey.” Damn, putting it out there feels good.

  I’m thinking she’s asleep still, but I quickly realize she’s not when I hear her breath catch in her throat.

  Shit, she heard me.

  How do I feel about that?

  Terrified slightly, but mostly relieved.

  She lifts her head from my chest and stares up at me, bleary-eyed but more coherent than she’s been since the attack.

  “What did you just say?” she murmurs.

  “I…uh…” I touch her cheek. It’s a little redder than it was moments ago, but maybe that’s because she’s a little flushed now. “We should get you more ice,” I quietly state.

  Yeah, deflecting is my go-to defense, even when I don’t want it to be. Good thing Lainey’s having none of it.

  Smacking my hand away, she says, “Screw the ice. I want to hear what I think you just said.”

  “If you heard me the first time, I don’t see why I need to say it again—”

  “Nolan…” Her tone is a warning.

  I gaze down at her, into those expressive turquoise eyes. What is holding me back? Nothing, as I’m no longer afraid.

  So I just say it again, “I love you.”

  Despite the sincerity in my tone, she peers up at me, disbelieving.

  Wow, have I really been so bad that she doesn’t trust what I’m saying? I was right that words—or lack thereof—have consequences. But I do love her, and I’m willing to spend the rest of my life proving it to her. “If that’s what it takes,” I murmur to myself.

  She eyes me curiously, and I go on to explain everything to her. I share not only what I was just thinking, but also all my fears, all my regrets, and the many things I’ve thought about lately.

  “So this is what you wanted to talk about?” she queries.

  “Yes.”

  “I never would’ve guessed.”

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  We both share a chuckle at that, but then she softly inquires, “Why now? Is it because of what happened earlier tonight?”

  I take a deep breath and think that over. Is my wanting to talk to her now because of what happened? I don’t unequivocally know, but I try to explain what I’m thinking as best as I can.

  “I guess tonight did spur me on,” I admit. “It certainly made me realize one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you love someone—with all your heart, like I do you—you need to let them know.”

  She smiles, but then I have a burst of panic and I share it with her. “What if something worse”—I shudder—“would’ve happened and I’d never had the chance to tell you I love you?”

  “Nolan, stop torturing yourself. I’m fine.” I raise a brow as I nod to her cheek, and she amends, “Well, more or less fine.”

  We sit then for a minute, soaking that in, until she asks softly, “How long have you kept all this inside, Nolan? How long have you known your true feelings?”

  “For about a couple of weeks now—”

  “Wait, what?” She sits up, crawls over into my lap, straddles me, then proceeds to smack her hands down, hard, on my chest. “You’ve knows for a couple of weeks?”

  “Ow. And yes.”

  “And you were just going to sit around and let me tromp off to Chicago none the wiser?”

  “That was the plan.”

  “For what crazy reason would you do that?”

  I place my hands over hers. They’re still on my chest, but thankfully not in smacking mode anymore.

  I blow out a breath, and then confess, “I didn’t want to fuck up your life any more than I already have. After jerking you around for months, which I feel pretty shitty about now, it didn’t seem fair for me to ride in on some imaginary white horse and whisk you away. Not when things were finally happening for you on the career front.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fuck the career, Nolan.”

  “Don’t say that, Lainey. It’s your dream.”

  She laughs. “No, it’s really not.” She stills, and her eyes bore into mine as she then tells me, “You’re my dream, Nolan. And before you say anything, I don’t care how antiquated that may sound. Feelings and relationships are always going to mean more to me than jobs and careers. It’s just how I’m wired. Sure, I want to find a decent position, but a career, for me, will never be the end-all, be-all of my existence. Love will always mean more than some stupid job.”

  I don’t know if that means she’s staying, but I need to find out. For now, though, I’m stuck on one part of what she said—the “love” part.

  “So…are you saying you love me too?” I softly inquire.

  Fuck, can she hear how vulnerable I am right now? I don’t care if she does. She can rip out my heart and stomp all over it, if she’s so inclined. I thought I was in love a long time ago, with the woman who did me wrong, but I realize now that that was some immature version of love. The pain my ex-wife caused me was due more to humiliation than a true broken heart.

  Lainey, however, could truly destroy me, simply by not loving me back. Though I don’t think she’s leaning that way. No, Miss Shelburne is looking at me with more love in her eyes than I deserve.

  “Yes,” she says. “I love you, you silly, stubborn man.”

  “I may be stubborn, that’s true,” I concede. And then it’s time to lighten things up. “But,” I continue, placing my hands on her hips and pressing her down to a part of me that is always hard for her—“does that feel silly to you?”

  Closing her eyes, she lets out a little moan.

  “Mmm, no,” she rasps as she grinds down on me. “Not one bit silly, at all.”

  Ecstasy, and Not the Drug

  I want Nolan, more than I ever have in the past. And that’s saying a lot, since I pretty much burn for the man constantly.

  Nonetheless, because of what happened earlier in the night, and before things go too far, he pauses, hands stilling my hips as he asks, “Are you sure about this?”

  I drag his long-sleeved tee up his firm, smooth chest. “Lift,” I command. He complies and I make short work of his shirt, tossing it aside. “And to answer your question, I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

  I mean, we just declared our love for one another! I need to be with him.

  So, I tug my Wolves sweatshirt up over my head and unsnap my bra, freeing my breasts. Nolan can’t tear his gaze away. He loves my boobs. But even better, he freaking loves me.

  Reaching up, he reverently cups one mound, then the other. He shifts beneath me as he does, stilling when he’s lined up perfectly against me.

  With only thin lounge pants separating us, I can feel freaking everything, prompting me to groan, “You always feel so amazing.”

  “So do you.”

  God, Nolan’s voice, his urgent but gentle touch, I love this man so much. I need him closer, as in, as close as two people can get.

  Lying down on him, chest to chest, I press our bare torsos together. “You’re so warm,” he whispers.

  “You are too.”

  We stop moving then and just feel. He wraps his arms around me, like he may lose me, and tells me again, “I love you.”

  “I love you too…so very, very much.”

  “I want you,” he says softly, “but I don’t want to rush things tonight.”

  “Me neither.”

  Between sweet kisses peppered across my jaw, and then down my neck, he murmurs, “Let me just love you slowly like this.”

  “Yes.”

  Nolan holds me
then for what feels like forever, kissing me softly, in a way that makes me feel so alive. I explore Nolan’s mouth with my tongue, while skimming my hands over every part of his body that’s within reach. And though everything is done slowly, somewhere along the line the rest of our clothes are discarded, leaving me able to, at last, grasp him in my hands.

  Yes, hands. Nolan is so damn big that two hands are necessary to really grab hold of him.

  “I love this part of you too,” I say, leaning back, my smile coy.

  He shoots me back a sly smile of his own. “It clearly loves you too.”

  I laugh. “God, you’re so sexy when you smile like that. You just look so genuinely happy.”

  “You make me happy,” he says. But then his grin turns wicked and I know we’re back to teasing when he adds, “And I promise you I’m not just saying that because you’re holding my cock.”

  “Hmm, I don’t believe you at all,” I purr as I start stroking him slowly.

  He rasps back, “Yeah, I’ll admit you holding my dick…and definitely you stroking it like that”—he inhales a sharp breath when I squeeze—“are definitely helping to up my happiness level significantly.”

  “In that case, I think we can do one better, Mr. Solvenson.”

  “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

  Leaning down until the head of his cock is pressed to my lips, I peer up and say, “What about now? How are those happiness levels faring?”

  “Shit, Lainey, we may be reaching off-the-chart levels of ecstasy now.”

  “May be? Hell, Nolan, I say we do.”

  Before he can say another word, I take him in my mouth. I’m pretty sure then that off-the-charts levels of ecstasy are most definitely achieved.

  She Never Saw That One Coming

  Off-the-chart levels of ecstasy are definitely achieved. But that’s not my finest moment. No, my highest state of bliss doesn’t occur when she’s taking me in her mouth—though shit, that does feel pretty damn amazing. But the true bliss occurs when I’m sinking into her and feeling all her warmth and, more importantly, all her love.

  Afterward, while we’re resting I soak in the moment, and I am so damn happy. The only thing that breaks me from my happy state is when Lainey mentions how she wishes she could hide out for a day or two.

  “Why?” I ask, concerned.

  “I just don’t want to go home and have to explain the bruise on my face.” She sighs. “Aubrey worries enough about me already, and Brent’s sure to wonder how I got hurt.”

  “So stay here,” I offer. “I’ll go with Benny later to get your car and take it to their house. I’ll tell your sister that you’re staying with me for a couple of days.”

  “Wow, she’s going to wonder. She thinks we’re through.”

  “Eh…” I shrug. “Your sister had a ton of back-and-forth with Brent. I think she’ll understand.”

  “Maybe,” Lainey replies. “But are you definitely sure it’s okay for me to stay here?”

  Lainey’s worried I’ll get weird, but she needn’t. I’m past that…I think. I guess we’ll see, but I say to her, “Absolutely you can stay. Don’t be silly.” I lean down and kiss her to seal the deal.

  Well, any lingering concern that Lainey living at my house would freak me out is completely quelled over the next couple of days. I end up feeling more connected to her than ever. I like playing house, but I want the real deal. I think about how I almost lost her, and how I have this strong urge to change my life.

  Yeah, it’s time to take this thing between us to the next level. What she and I had all along was good, I just couldn’t see it. But now that I do, I want even more. Lainey is already in my heart, where it counts, but now I feel her in my bones, in my marrow. When I make love to her, I no longer know where I end and she begins. What we have needs to be made permanent.

  That’s why when, two nights later as I’m holding her in my arms, I ask for something I never thought I would. “Will you stay with me, Lainey?”

  As she toys with a loose thread on my tee, she looks up and laughs. “I am staying with you, Nolan.”

  “I mean…more.”

  She shifts on the sofa, giving us some space. “Like, how much more?”

  I lay it on the line then. “I’m asking you to not go to Chicago.”

  Looking away, she murmurs, “Are you sure you really want that?”

  I blow out a breath, sit up and lean forward, elbows on my knees. This isn’t going to be easy. Despite the great progress we’ve made the past few days, Lainey still doesn’t fully trust me. Not that I blame her. I created this. And only I can fix it.

  I start on fixing it now by reminding her, “You said yourself that love means more to you than any job ever will, right?”

  “That’s true,” she confirms, nodding. “And I’d give up just about anything for you, Nolan. But I don’t want to say no to the Chicago position, and have you regretting it later.”

  “Ah, I understand your concern, Lainey. But this time is different. I’m not going to change my mind, I promise. I want you, for now and for forever.”

  I can tell she wants to give in, but my stupid actions of the past have her understandably hesitant.

  “I don’t know,” she hedges. “If I decline the offer, I’m right back to being jobless. And I sure as hell can’t go back to work at the casino. Not after…” she trails off.

  I urge her then to move closer to me. When she does, I sit up straighter and start rubbing her back, hoping to soothe her.

  “Rest assured,” I say softly. “I don’t ever want you going back to the casino job.”

  Leaning back into my kneading hands, she asks, “What would I do, though?”

  “The marketing job with the Wolves is still open,” I remind her. “They haven’t hired anyone yet.”

  “I heard that too,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean they plan on hiring me. Despite Brent, Aubrey, and you, Nolan”—she twists around and pins me with a knowing look—“lobbying hard for me, I haven’t heard a word from them.”

  Okay, so now I know that she knows I put in a good word for her. But so did Brent and Aubrey. And it’s due to one thing, something I share with her now.

  “You know we all vouched for you because we know you’d kick ass in that job.”

  “Yeah, I would,” she replies confidently.

  Ah, there’s the Lainey I know and love.

  “So stay,” I press once more.

  She sits back next to me and, after a moment of contemplation spent chewing away at her bottom lip, she proclaims, “Well, I don’t really want to live and work in Chicago.”

  “That sounds like a yes to me.”

  “It’s a maybe, Nolan.”

  “What’s holding you back?” I inquire.

  “Well, for one, where would I live? No job means zero income. I can’t stay with Brent and Aubrey forever, nor would I want to.”

  I reach over to tuck a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. “You could always move in with me. Like, for good.”

  That makes her laugh…and laugh…and laugh. “And what?” she says at last. “Become your kept woman?”

  Lainey’s kidding around, but I’m sure as hell not when I then propose, like literally—“We could always go legit. You could become my wife.”

  That leaves her totally and utterly speechless, like I knew it would. “Bet you never saw that one coming,” I murmur.

  But when a full minute goes by and she hasn’t uttered a peep, I start to worry.

  “Uh, Lainey… Are you okay? You do know I’m serious, right?”

  Still shell-shocked, she breathes out, “You really think we should get married?”

  “That’s generally what ‘become my wife’ would imply.”

  “So you’re, like, for real proposing to me?”

  “Yeah, I really am.” We turn to one another, and I take her hands in mine. “I know this is all completely unconventional, but seriously”—my eyes meet hers—“I’m asking you to make me a ha
ppy man and marry me. I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as I feel right now.”

  “I am happy, Nolan,” she says. “And I do love you…”

  I see truth in her eyes that she loves me, but I still worry. Maybe she just doesn’t want to marry me.

  Shakily, I ask, “So what’s your answer?”

  “Well, we are kind of unconventional. But I just don’t know…”

  “Do you not want to marry me?” I dare to ask.

  “It’s not that.”

  What is it, then? Does she need a more formal proposal? I can do that.

  Dropping to my knees, her hands still in mine, I look up and say, “I love you, Lainey Shelburne. Please…be my wife.”

  I still don’t receive an answer, but I suspect one is coming.

  I think it may even be a yes, seeing as she starts asking things like: “When would we do it? And where would it happen? Would we have a big wedding, or a small one? And…” She stops and peers down at our entwined hands. “Would I get a ring?”

  I laugh, thrilled that she’s actually considering committing to a work-in-progress like me.

  I then assure her, “You get whatever you want, babe. We can have a huge ceremony, or something tiny. As to the when and the where, those are up to you too. And of course you get a ring.”

  “Wow,” she marvels, smiling. “When you go all-in, Nolan, I have to say you go all-in.”

  I raise a brow. “Is that a yes, then?”

  “It is,” she confirms.

  Just to be sure we’re not signing up for a long-distance union, before I start celebrating, I make sure to ask, “Chicago’s out then, right?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Clearly, Nolan.”

  “I just needed to hear you say it, is all.”

  We celebrate then, me by kissing the crap out of her, and her by giggling and pretending to dodge me, but then giving in. “God, I love you,” I tell her.

  “I love you too.”

  When we come back down to earth, I wrap her up in my arms and we lean back in the cushions of the sofa. Ah, this life together is going to be amazing.

  A few seconds later, when I chuckle a little, she wants to know, “What’s so funny?”