“Happy birthday, Eighty-Seven,” she says, her candy breath fanning my face.
“You came,” I murmur.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“When I couldn’t find you, I didn’t think you were coming.”
“I got here an hour ago. I’ve been across the street.”
I frown at her confession, but then she leans in and whispers, “I’ve never been to a club before, and I don’t have a fake ID.”
My lips betray me, curving upwards. She’s so cute, and she doesn’t have a clue.
Tilting her head, she scans the area. Satisfied no one’s listening to her confession, she carries on.“A place like this… It’s not really my scene. I got nervous. The bouncer turned a few girls away. Said no puck rabbits were allowed.”
I bite the inside of my cheek hard to hold in my laughter.
Adorable. Fucking adorable.
“Brax must have stepped out for some air and spotted me.”
I look over at my friend. He’s holding a beer and chatting with Hayes. He lifts his bottle to me and winks, a satisfied smirk on his lips. I can’t help but laugh at the thought of him actually citing himself for letting Erin in. The tattooed grump really is a big softie underneath.
I turn back to face Erin.
“First off, being called a puck bunny is not a compliment. And there’s no one who wouldevermistake you for being one. Second, you coming here tonight for me even though places like this aren’t your scene is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
She rolls her eyes in a playful manner. “Yeah, right. You’re a hockey player. I’m sure people do things or want to do things for you all the time.”
“I’m serious, Erin. You came here to be with me, even though it’s the last place you’d rather be. That means more than I can tell you, Bookworm.”
I lift my chin off my arm, stand, and shuffle my way out of the booth. I hold my hand out to her. “Dance with me.”
She hesitates for a beat, but then she rises to her feet and puts her palm in mine. I hold on to it tightly as I lead her onto the dance floor where others sway around us.
Her eyes shift from side to side as she watches them, telling me she’s nervous with all these people around her. They laugh and drink as their hands roam one another’s bodies.
I tug her closer, and her breath catches as she falls into my chest. Her whiskey eyes, full of uncertainty and trust, gaze into mine, and in this moment, I really hope there’s a shooting star flying across the sky above because I always want her looking at me this way.
My fingers are light when they make contact with her skin. Her eyes flicker, lashes dipping, showing me exactly what my touch does to her.
I love it.
“I won’t let anyone else lay a hand on you. I promise. You will always be safe with me, Bookworm. Always.”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “Okay.”
I spin her around as the music changes. Our bodies move to the rhythm, the world around us fading away. I’m not sure what songs we dance to. All I know is I’m completely distracted by the beauty in front of me who keeps her eyes locked on mine the entire time.
The tempo of the next song is slower than the previous one, giving me the perfect opportunity to inch closer. I spin her, and her back fits perfectly against me. My hands slide over her waist, hers resting on top of mine to keep them in place.
At first, I think it’s just a reaction to my hands moving, but she doesn’t pull them away. She melts into my touch like she likes it.
And I like us like this a lot.
We continue to sway together as peace echoes around us. We’re so close, only the tiniest little gap between our bodies. I desperately want to move closer, but I don’t. I’m careful not to pull her all the way against my front, even though I’ve imagined how her body will feel a thousand times over.
“Thank you for coming, Erin,” I murmur, lowering my head to the shell of her ear. “This is the best birthday. Thank you for making it special.”
