“I slept on the couch until his fever went down,” I finish her sentence.
She nods. “I knew you visited for Connor, but you were in my house, sleeping, just there… so close.” She covers her face with her hand, as if she could hide. “Fuck, I just admitted that.”
I have to smile to myself. “Sorry I didn’t take my shirt off,” I say in an attempt to make her laugh, but then my face grows stoic because I know what she’s saying. “I pretended to sleep.”
“What?”
“I pretended to sleep,” I repeat. “I couldn’t sleep a wink knowing you were in the other room in your bed. I think I stayed more because I knew it would be the next best thing. I got to be near you for a night.”
She laughs, swiping away a tear. “Are we horrible parents? We had a hidden agenda while our son had a fever.”
“We’re allowed to put ourselves first sometimes. Besides, his fever was going down, and we had the situation under control.”
Brielle slowly walks to my side of the table. “I think I’m going to move seats now.” Her smile is sultry.
“Oh yeah?” I lean back, ready to welcome her.
She sits on my lap and loops her arms around my neck. “Right here, if you don’t mind.”
I tip my chin up to get a better angle to kiss her lips. “I insist.”
Cementing our lips together, it’s Brielle this time who kisses with determination, her fingers raking into the hair on the back of my neck. She has me captivated and at her mercy. Yet, I have the courage to sneak my tongue into her mouth to show her that I’ll lead us if she lets me.
Our tongues duel before her lips create a trail of hurried kisses down my jaw and neck.
This is it.
We snap.
There is no going back.
“We can skip the brownies, right?” I husk as my hands roam her body.
She pulls away for a second with a serious look. “Wait, there are chocolate brownies?”
“Uhm… yes.” I’m concerned that her love for dessert is one step higher on her pedestal for me.
Her look tells me that I’m being brushed to the side, but then her face breaks. “I guess they can wait.”
Relief hits me, and I’m quick to usher her up, never letting go of our interlaced fingers. “Let me blow out the candles.” I lean over to extinguish the flames.
“Fire safety, so responsible,” she chides.
“I’m a dad,” I proudly counter.
Brielle yanks my arm to lead us inside.
* * *
Our hands don’t dropas we slowly walk into my bedroom, and I’m not quite sure who is leading whom. The problem with slow is that it ups the ante and makes the realization of what we are doing more profound. The air is thick with anticipation, and the beating of my heart feels strong.
When we are near my bed, I reel Brielle into me and wrap my arm around her waist. “You okay?” I have to smile.
“Perfect.”
“Not nervous?”
Her lips quirk out. “I mean, it’s not every day that Ford Spears, star hockey player, takes me to bed, but ya know, there are worse hardships in life.”
