Her door was partially open, an invitation if I’d ever seen one. I pushed it open, and when I stepped inside, she was nowhere to be found. The room smelled like her—like honey and something soft, something flowery. It wasn’t a scent I usually noticed, but with her, it was all I could breathe in. I’d never forget it, and I couldn’t tell if that terrified me or exhilarated me.
Her bed was made with military precision. The room was neat, almost sparse. A few knick-knacks, no clutter. The only picture on the dresser was of her andhim—the asshole who’d almost married her. I hated him on sight. That had been the moment I realized I’d never stand a chance.
I reached for the frame, fingers brushing the glass as I pulled it out. It felt wrong, touching something that had belonged to him, something that was still a part of her life. I slid it out of the frame, setting the photo aside, then grabbed a pen from the mug on the antique desk in the corner.
I hadn’t drawn in ages, not since I was a teenager, but I couldn’t stop myself. The lines were shaky, rough. It wasn’t a masterpiece, not even close. The shading was terrible, and thepen I was using wasn’t made for this kind of thing. But it didn’t matter. It was something I had to do.
I didn’t hear her come back in, so when her voice cut through the silence, I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“What are you doing?”
I added one last tweak to the smile before I placed the picture back in the frame, the cartoonish version of her facing outward.
“Teddy.” Her tone was soft, almost disbelieving. She covered her mouth as her eyes scanned the drawing of her—her head slightly tilted, a whistle between her lips. She looked as real as I could make her with a single pen, and yet, it wasn’t her. Not completely. It was a piece of her that I could hold in my hands.
“It’s not very good, I know,” I muttered, feeling a flush rise in my chest.
“Are you kidding?” She took the frame from me, her fingers gentle as she studied the drawing. “I’d forgotten this was even here.”
I watched her, my heart thumping, as she stared at it. I wanted her to understand, to see what I saw when I looked at her. “You shouldn’t have to see him every day,” I said quietly, my words soft, but heavy. “Now, you’ll have this instead. You’ll see yourself as I do. Beautiful. Strong. Always busting my balls.” I paused, my throat tightening. “Maybe it’ll make you smile… even just a little.”
Her gaze flickered to me, searching, and then she looked back at the image, her lips curling ever so slightly at the corners. But she didn’t say anything. Not yet. And maybe she didn’t need to.
She carried the picture to the bedside table, placing it down with a quiet finality. Then, she returned to me, almost as if she were rearranging the pieces of something—me, this moment, the tension between us.
She’d changed into black leggings and a deep red tunic that fell past her hips, the fabric clinging to her body in all the right places. No bra. I swear, this woman was trying to destroy me.
"Valentine." She looked up at me, her lashes casting shadows over her eyes, but there was something raw in her gaze. Something that made my blood run hot. "I’m about to break every fucking rule I’ve ever set for myself."
“What—” I barely had the chance to finish the word before her lips were on mine, initiating it for the first time. My body went still at the unexpectedness of it, but I didn’t pull away. I didn’t move my hands, didn’t tug her closer. I let her kiss me, let her take the lead as her tongue slipped past my lips, tasting me, claiming me in a way that shattered every shred of restraint I’d had.
I kissed her back, slow and deliberate, savoring every moment. Her tongue teased, coaxing me open, and I pressed mine against it, taking everything she was willing to give and then some.
“Touch me,” she whispered, her words trembling with a need that I could feel in my bones.
But I didn’t. Not yet. I needed her to beg, needed to hear the desperation, to know this was what she truly wanted.
“Dammit, Teddy, I want your hands on me.”
That was it. My control snapped. I gripped her hips, pulling her flush against me. The kiss broke as I lifted my eyes to meet hers, and without another word, I backed her toward the bed, my hands still anchored firmly at her sides.
“You don’t order me around,” I said as I nipped at her bottom lip. She whimpered in response, and I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at my lips. “On the ice, you’re in charge. But here, now… I’m the coach.”
The back of her legs hit the bed, and I gently lowered her onto it, the softness of the sheets against her skin contrasting with thefire in the air between us. She was so damn pliable beneath me, and it made my blood boil with the need to twist her up, make her give up control completely.
“Say it,” I growled, leaning down, hovering over her, my breath mingling with hers.
“What?” Her defiance was still there, a flicker in her eyes that I wanted to extinguish.
I leaned closer, grazing her chin with my teeth. “Tell me I’m the coach.”
Her fingers curled into my shirt, but I pried them free with ease, keeping my weight balanced on one arm while I used my other hand to capture both of her wrists and press them firmly to her chest. She couldn’t touch me now.
Her body bucked against my grip, the movement teasing me, and I slid one knee between her legs, making sure that each time she fought against me, she could feel how much I wanted her, how much Ineededher.
“Do you want me to stop?” I growled, my voice dark, demanding.
She shook her head, biting down on her lip. I used my teeth to pry it free, my mouth taking possession of hers once more. “Only I get to bite you,” I murmured, my lips brushing her ear as I kissed down her jawline.
