He paused when he was buried to the hilt, his body trembling with the effort of holding still. Our eyes remained locked, and in that moment, it felt like so much more than just sex. It was a silent vow that we belonged to each other.
“Fuck,” he choked out, his voice raw and his eyes filled with desire so thick it made me feel like a goddess. “God, Harper…you feel sofuckinggood.” He dropped his forehead to mine. “I love you,” he whispered, the words a hot caress against my lips. “Love feeling you like this. Takingme so deep. I’m yours. You own me, do you know that?” He pulled back slowly, almost completely out, then thrust forward again. The friction was incredible— every thrust driving deeper, every inch claiming me. “Look at me, baby,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering. “I want to see everything you feel, and your eyes never lie.”
He started moving with slow, deep thrusts. Each stroke was steady and purposeful—like he knew exactly how to unravel me. He filled me so completely it felt like he was made for me.
When I met his gaze, the same emotion surging in my chest was mirrored back at me. It was overwhelming—the way he moved inside me, the way his eyes lingered like he was memorizing every flicker across my face. Tears spilled over, and he kissed them away, never faltering in that devastating rhythm.
“That’s it,” he whispered against my temple, his hips rocking into me relentlessly. “Let me feel you.” His hand slid between our bodies, his thumb finding my clit again. “Come for me again, Harper. Come on my cock and let me feel it all.”
The dual stimulation was too much. Pleasure coiled tighter and hotter than before, amplified by the depth of his thrusts and the unbroken connection of his gaze. “Drew…” His name was a plea.
“I’ve got you,” he promised, his voice rough with his own need. His thumb worked magic on my clit, matching the rhythm of his deep, penetrating thrusts. “Let go. Give me everything you’ve got, Harper. I’m never letting you go. I want to feel you come around me and watch you fall apart for me.” He kissed me again quickly. “Only for me now.”
His words, the possessive heat in his eyes, and the relentless pressure building inside me all crashed together.My climax hit me like a tidal wave, violent and all-consuming. My mouth opened in a soundless cry as my body convulsed, clamping down on his cock with pulsing intensity. I fought with everything I had to keep my eyes open, locked on his, and I saw the exact moment my pleasure became his—his eyes flared wide, his jaw clenched, and a groan ripped from his chest.
“Harper. Fuck,” he groaned as his thrusts became erratic, driving into me as my inner muscles milked him. “So good…so fucking perfect… Love you…” His words were broken, gasped against my skin as he buried himself to the hilt and held there. He pulsed inside me, and his release triggered another wave of aftershocks that shuddered through my trembling body.
His weight collapsed against me, a welcome anchor as we both gasped for air. Still buried deep inside me, his body shook with the aftershocks of his release. The heat of his breath was ragged against my neck where he’d pressed his face. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice broken with emotion. “God, I love you so much.”
He shifted slightly, careful not to crush me, but kept his arms locked around me, holding me close as if he was afraid I was a figment of his imagination that might disappear if he wasn’t touching me. He finally pulled out, disposing of the condom quickly before gathering me back against him, skin to skin. The silence stretched between us, filled only by our slowing breaths and the distant sound of Rory’s soft breathing from her crib, but I didn’t feel any need to fill it.
I was content to lie here in his arms.
As sleep started to claim me, one last thought filtered through my mind.
No one had ever made me feel more loved unconditionally than he did.
FORTY-THREE
The campus was buzzing with that end-of-semester energy that always came after the overwhelming stress of finals. Gordy was heading off to his grandfather’s ranch in Big Sky. Sam was going to be working as a camp counselor for most of the summer, and despite her initial plans to move out at the end of this semester, we’d all agreed that she could stay in the hockey house for her senior year.
Liam had been kind of stingy with his plans for this summer. In fact, he’d been stingy about any real details of his life since Harper and I had gotten together. It felt weird not knowing what was going on with my best friend, but between fatherhood and my first serious relationship, I’d turned into a bad friend. The thought bothered me, but before I could dwell on it, Harper walked into the kitchen wearing one of my hockey T-shirts and her red curls in a topknot on her head with a silk scrunchie that she said was mandatory or her hair would be crazy when she woke up. She’d talked about a silk bonnet she usually wore over her hair, but she’d refused to wear it in front of me. I’d changeher mind about that later. I bet she looked sexy as fuck with it on.
I didn’t care if she woke up looking like she’d wrestled a tornado—she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. A week of waking up with her in my bed, and the novelty hadn’t worn off yet. If anything, it kept getting better.
“Morning, beautiful,” I murmured, stealing a kiss before she could fully wake up.
“Mmm.” She melted against me for a moment before focusing on Rory, who was in her bouncer living her best life as she pushed away the bottle I’d tucked beside her.
I sat back down next to her and tried to give it to her again. Formula dribbled down her chin and onto her bib as she turned her head away with impressive determination.
“How does someone so small create such a giant mess?” Harper asked, staring at the formula covering the bib and Rory’s sleeves.
“Pure talent. It runs in the family,” I said, angling the bottle back toward her mouth just as she swatted it away, sending a spray of milk across the kitchen. “Future MVP right here.”
Harper snorted as she reached for a coffee mug. “Right, because nothing says athletic prodigy like blocking breakfast.”
“Hey, every player’s gotta start somewhere,” I shot back, dodging another swipe as I tried again. “She’s just working on her defense.”
“Uh-huh,” she said dryly, watching Rory push the bottle away with both hands this time. “Rory Dumontier—first-line starter in the breakfast league, coached by Dad.”
I tilted my head back, letting out a throaty laugh at theimage. Besides morning sex with Harper, laughing with her was my favorite way to start the day.
Harper made her coffee while I continued the bottle standoff. At this point, I was pretty sure Rory was purposefully trying to be a chaos gremlin. She finally latched on and started drinking, her little hand curling around my finger. Harper hummed under her breath as she went through her coffee-making routine, and I sat back and let gratitude and sheer happiness flow through me.
I’d never thought I would want my mornings to be so domestic, but it was quickly becoming my favorite part of the day.
I’d always considered myself a pretty happy, carefree guy. I had friends, ruled college life, killed it on the ice, had girls practically falling at my feet—well, until Harper’s poster stunt. I thought I’d had it all.
