“Shit,” I grunt, bucking my hips as tingles radiate out from the base of my spine. She’s still rippling around me when mydick jerks and I spill inside her. The sweet scent of her fills my nose as I press my face into her neck as I come, the horrors of the day forgotten as I lose myself in her and she loses herself in me.
It’s one of the most intense orgasms of my life, and I’m shaking when I start to come down from it. Or maybe Blair’s the one shaking. I tighten my arms around her, holding her tight as I soften inside of her.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispers.
“I’m never letting you go, you know.”
She shakes with quiet laughter in my arms. “You’d better not.”
“There’s no getting rid of me now.”
I hold her like that until the mess we’ve made becomes uncomfortable, then I carry her to the bathroom and clean us both off. I take my time, gently cleaning her, memorizing the moment. The way her skin glistens with sweat, turning luminous under the lights. The way her eyes soften when they meet mine. The lazy, content smile that’s just the slightest bit higher on the right side of her mouth. I commit every last detail to memory, knowing this is the first of many nights just like this.
Because I believe Blair when she says she’ll never leave.
My nights trawling bars have ended. I’ve broken every single rule in my handwritten book. I’m going to take this woman to bed with me every night for the rest of my life and wake up with her beside me every morning. I’ll learn each of her quirks and idiosyncrasies, and she’ll learn mine. We’ll fall into routines and spend evenings shuttling Reed to and from football practice and games. We’ll argue about who used the last square of toilet paper and forgot to change the roll. Months will pass, then years, and decades.
It’ll be normal and mundane and predictable.
Nothing has ever excited me more.
epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
BLAIR
“Why can’tfootball be played during the summer? And why is Minnesota so cold in November? My ass is going to be numb so fast.” It’s Reed’s last game of the regular season, though it won’t be the last game of the year. His team is good. Really good. And they have a spot in the playoffs.
Last summer, Logan and his friends paid for Reed and every single kid on his eighth-grade team to do that fancy clinic he wanted to do. They also talked a couple of guys they know on from the Minnesota Warriors, our NFL team, to spend an afternoon at Southwest Junior High, giving the kids some priceless one-on-one attention. It helped Reed up his game so much that he and Eddie made it onto the junior varsity team at Washington High as freshmen, which is virtually unheard of. And the way they’ve both been playing, it seems pretty likely they’ll end up playing varsity next year.
“Angel, I have your heated seat cushion already packed. Your ass will be fine. And if it’s not, I’m happy to drag you into a closet somewhere and warm it up.” Logan winks at me from where he stands, leaning against the doorway to our bedroom, legs crossed and hands in his pockets as he watches me tug a Rogues hoodie over my base layer. “I also have hand warmers and a blanket for you. I’ll keep you warm.”
Reed has acclimated to the Minnesota winters much better than I have. By the time November hits, I find myself daydreaming about California and sunshine. Not that I’d trade any of this for warmer climates. Minneapolis is home now. Reed and I have put down roots I never want to unearth.
Doesn’t mean I still don’t complain about the cold, to Logan’s endless amusement.
“Come on, baby. We don’t want to be late. Everyone is meeting us there.”
After living with Logan for almost a year, Reed and I have grown incredibly close to Logan’s inner circle. The guys include Reed in their boys’ nights, and I spend many, many nights hanging out with Isla, Mira, and Lexi. We invite Adrienne often, too, and she’s become my best friend here. They’ve become family.
Which is why all of them show up to Reed’s high school games whenever they’re not playing one of their own. Because Reed basically has five famous older brothers now.
It was quite the spectacle the first time five Rogues players filled the stands. The crowds at a high school football game are much larger than the crowds for a junior high game, and the guys were such a common sight by the end of Reed’s eighth grade career that they relaxed their efforts to blend in. Which felt like a mistake when everyone on the bleachers kept staring at them and taking photos during the first JV game.
Now? Most of the regulars are used to the massive, enthusiastic hockey players in their midst.
“Do you think I need another pair of socks?” I ask, frowning, before turning to dig through my drawer, looking for the thickest pair I can find.
“Okay. That’s it.”
I let out an indignant little scream when Logan grabs my hand, turns me around, then throws me over his shoulder like some kind of caveman. Or Viking. The deep resonance of his laughter vibrates through me as he carries me through the apartment before dropping me onto the couch, grabbing my fur-lined boots from the front closet and pushing them onto my feet.
“So bossy,” I grouse, though he knows I love it. I love the way Logan takes care of me. Of us. And I love taking care of him too.
“Let’s go.”
