“Where is he?” I asked, my voice soft but insistent.
“I think he went upstairs a few minutes ago.” She clapped her hands, calling for Guardian. “Most of the team’s here, though.”
I didn’t care. Not anymore. Teddy wasn’t a Guardian now. He was just a man. And I had to see him.
I stepped into the house, returning the yells of hello from a few of the guys. Some were playing video games, others rushed in and out of the kitchen, beers in hand. Julian fiddled with the music on the speaker while Ryder climbed onto the couch to make a speech. I barely heard him as I hurried toward the stairs.
I’d been to Teddy’s room once before, and what happened then was etched into my memory.
I knocked, but there was no answer, so I turned the knob and stepped inside. Teddy lay on the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, one arm flung over his face. His chest rose and fell in steady breaths—he was asleep.
Damn him. Damn the defined muscles of his chest, the sinewy, long legs. My eyes lingered a moment too long, drawn to the way his boxers sat low on his hips.
“Frankie,” he muttered. For a moment, I thought he’d woken, but he didn’t open his eyes. Instead, a long moan escaped him. Teddy was dreaming, and as his hand drifted down his chest, I couldn’t help but watch.
Oh, shit.
His fingers slid past the waistband of his boxers. I held my breath as he groaned, low and rough. This man, who’d just ended his lifelong dream, this man who had never once considered choosing hockey over us.
This man.
And he was sleeping like a baby, dreaming about me.
I moved closer to the bed, considering waking him in a million creative ways. But no. Doing that would have removed consent, and as much as I knew he’d love it, everyone deserved the chance to say no.
So, instead, I leaned over, gently pushed his arm away from his face, and kissed him. Just a quick press of my lips to his. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
His hand stilled in his boxers, and his eyes blinked open slowly. “You just ruined the best fucking dream of my life.”
“I can go.” I pretended to turn, but that hand—the same one that had been moving moments before—shot out of his boxers to grip my wrist.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” He pulled me toward the bed, and I lowered myself onto him gently. I savored the kiss he started, the one I didn’t want to end.
By the time I pulled away, my breath was shallow. “What are you doing up here when the team’s downstairs?”
“I’m so fucking tired,” he sighed. “And sore. Every part of me hurts.”
“Every part?” I asked, rolling to the side so I could brush my hand over his boxers. He hardened further, if that was even possible.
“I’m not sure I have the energy to fuck you the way you deserve.” He groaned in frustration. “But goddamn, I love you.”
I kissed him again, this time letting my fingers dip below his waistband to find the length of him. He was silk beneath my hand. His head tipped back, baring his throat to me. I kissed him there, lingering at his pulse point just beneath his chin.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my lips barely brushing his skin. “For not proposing.” Even though they’d asked him to.
“You don’t seem like the marry-on-a-whim type.” His laughter was breathy, muddled by the raggedness of his breathing. I could tell he was close.
I licked up the column of his neck. “But you are.” He was reckless, spontaneous. I knew without a doubt he’d have married me if it was asked of him. “You like to please people.”
“Fuuuuck.”
I kissed down his chest until I reached his boxers. Pulling the front down, I freed him and took him into my mouth in one swift motion. His hips bucked off the bed, but I held him down, releasing him with a soft pop.
“Just to make sure we’re clear, Valentine.” I looked up at him, meeting his hooded gaze. “I love the fuck out of you. You’re mine.” I kissed the tip, letting my tongue linger a moment longer. “You might not be able to move much tonight, but I sure as hell can.”
For the first time, he let me have control. Let me do with him as I wished. And lord almighty, I wished. There was no coach in that bed, no forbidden role I had to play. Not him, the bossy, sexed-up man telling me what to do.
And I knew, without a doubt, that even if it wasn’t the right time, even if it was too fast, I would marry this man.
