I collapse onto the bed, and he collapses onto me. As we come back to earth, I hear him laughing. “It’s egotistical but I fucking love that you say my name when you come. Or in this case, scream it.”
“I screamed? Your name?” I ask because, honestly, I don’t have a clue. That orgasm was blackout good.
“Yeah. You know, we should probably videotape us,” he suggests, and I squirm and fight until he gets off of me, then I sit up and glare at him.
“No way in hell,” I say flatly.
He’s grinning, so I know he’s just teasing. “But that’s clearly the only way you’re going to know what you say when you come. And also, how fucking hot you are when you do it.”
“No video. I need a job, and employers Google people nowadays,” I explain and crawl off the bed. “If that ends up on the internet my life is over.”
He laughs as I try to walk confidently to the bathroom but my legs are wobbly. “Your orgasm legs are adorable.”
“Shut up and shower with me,” I reply as I bite back a smile.
Twenty minutes later we’re both getting dressed and I’ve just finished sending my resume to my contact at the ALS Foundation. He gives my shoulders a supportive squeeze, and as I close my laptop he grows serious. “What are your plans for the day?”
“I was going to swing by my parents’ and have lunch with them. Then I have to go to the arena at some point and collect my personal belongings. I’m dreading that. They’ll probably make the security guard escort me and Trish will have a superior little smirk on her face and…ugh.”
“Let me grab your stuff,” he volunteers. Before I can argue he says, “So you don’t have to deal with any drama.”
“I created the drama. I should face it,” I argue back softly as I pull an oversize gray sweater on over my black-and-white splatter-print leggings. “But I honestly don’t want to.”
He nods. “Then don’t. I’ll do it for you.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. “The ALS Foundation will hire you. You’re incredible, and it’s a great fit for you and them.”
“I hope so.”
We get to the corner where the trolley stop is, and he cups my face and kisses me good-bye, only it’s a hell of a lot more passionate than an average good-bye kiss. “Whoa,” I whisper when he finally lets me go.
“We can finally kiss in public,” he reminds me. “I am not going to take that for granted by giving you some pansy peck.”
I laugh as he winks at me and walks away.
I head to my parents’ place, and as I use my key and open the door, I’m greeted by the sound of laughter and yelling. Not angry yelling, just typical boisterous Braddock banter. God, I hope Eli can handle us, I worry as I follow the noise through the kitchen into the dining area. Eli’s family, from everything he says, is prim and proper, which is definitely not my family.
Everyone is seated around the long oak table. Dad is in his wheelchair at one end. Mom is to his left, Jude is at the other end with Zoey to his right, and Winnie and Sadie are in the middle. There’s an empty seat on Jude’s left, but there’s a plate of eggs and bacon in front of it. He notices me first because the others are listening to Sadie and Winnie talk over each other as they tell a story.
“I told you she’d be here,” Jude calls out, pulling everyone’s attention. He kicks out the empty chair.
I smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”
“It’s optional. I opted out,” Jude explains. He points to the plate in front of the empty chair. “We made a plate for you, freeloader.”
“Slacker,” I quip, and take the seat next to him, pulling the plate of food closer and reaching for the fork.
“She’s an unemployed freeloader now,” Sadie reminds everyone.
“That’s okay. She can live on love,” Winnie pipes up and laughs at her own joke.
“Leave Little D alone,” my dad says. “We’re very proud of her for following her principles. And her heart. Life is too short not to.”
That last sentiment silences the table for a moment. My mom clears her throat, not wanting to let everyone start to get sad thinking about my dad’s short life, and looks over at me. “We’d like Eli to come over for dinner. Jude said they don’t have a game tonight or tomorrow, so can you ask him to join us one of those nights?”
I nod. I knew this was coming. “Just don’t embarrass me, okay?”
“Please. That’s our job, honey,” my dad replies and winks as he sips his coffee.
