I was not expecting to love this sight so much.
His eyes close. His mouth falls open. His neck arches and his hands go rigid on my hips, and the expression on his face is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Open. Unguarded. Trusting. He looks the way I feel, like every wall is down, every performance abandoned. Just Bernard. Raw and real and mine.
The word arrives without permission: mine.
I look at his face, the openness there, the trust he shows me, and I return, and I realize with the calm certainty of a nurse reading vitals that I am probably in love with Bernard Houser.
Our breathing slows. I lift off him carefully, both of us wincing at the separation, and roll onto my side next to him. He pulls me close immediately, arm around my waist, tucking me against his chest. His heart hammers against my cheek.
We lie there. His hand moves in slow circles on my back. My hand rests on his stomach, feeling it rise and fall. The bedroom is dark and warm and quiet, and I don't want to move, but I do know we can’t leave a condom situation unattended.
"Stay," I tell him. "I'll be right back."
I clean up in the bathroom, where a look in the mirror reveals a woman I barely recognize. Flushed. Bright-eyed. Wrecked in the best way. I bring a washcloth and the small trash can from the bathroom back to the bed. Bernard cleans up, ties off the condom, and tosses it while I crawl back under the covers beside him.
"Bernard?"
"Mm."
"Will you sleep in here tonight? With me?"
He laughs, low and tired and happy. "Ella, there is absolutely no way I could move from this bed right now, even if the building were on fire."
"Is that a yes?"
"That's a yes."
I press against his side, tuck my head into the curve of his shoulder, and feel his arm tighten around me. His lips brush my forehead. His breathing deepens.
The last time Bernard Houser was in this bed with me, it was an accident. He stumbled in drunk and grabbed me in his sleep, and I lay there in the dark feeling the ghost of his arm around my waist, wondering what it would be like to be held on purpose.
Now I know.
It feels safe.
Chapter 16
Howie
I thought signing with the Fury was the happiest I’d ever be, but it turns out living with Ella Rujkowski, and just getting to be with her, is way better.
We took things to the next level last night, and today, when Ella comes home from her shift, I wait for her in bed. She climbs in beside me like we’ve always slept together, and we make out for a while before she falls asleep with her head on my chest. I lie there with the solid weight of her on me, and her breath against my collarbone, and I think: I could do this forever.
Ella sits on my lap wearing only my jersey. It’s hot as fuck, but I told her she can’t come until she passes a practice quiz. I’m not sure I’m going to make it. She’s on a roll, though, eyes pinched shut in concentration while I touch her everywhere except her clit. She gets every question right while I tell her she’s brilliant. Her cheeks flush, and she bites back a smile along with a moan when I let the side of my thumb graze her swollen little nub. After she nails the last question, I slam the laptop shut, and she jams a condom on me so fast. We fuck right there on the couch, with her on top again, nipples poking out through the material of my shirt. She comes twice with my hand between us, and I watch her face because I’m collecting these expressions like some kids store up hockey cards.
Ella has the day off, and I don’t have PT. We stay in the bedroom until the skin on my cock is sore. She sits cross-legged on the mattress, naked, while we recite drug interactions. I lick every inch of her body, and then I eat Thai food off her stomach while she shrieks that the noodles are cold.
After I lap up the last drop of sauce, she grabs me by the hair and says, “You’re actually a St. Bernard, aren’t you? Big and drooly, taking up the whole bed?”
“I’m sorry, but did you just compare me to a dog?” I splay a hand across her belly, finger jiggling her boobs.
She laughs. “I did. A dog that rescues people.” And nobody has ever thought of me as a savior. I have to be inside her, and I manage to be on top without too much discomfort in my knee.
The Fury physical therapist says my knee is progressing well. I’m almost at full flexion, and Anya says I could be skating again in a week.
When I get back to the condo, Ella is there, and I tell her the news, and she whoops. “We need to celebrate. I aced three practice tests in a row, so we’ve both had great days.” She stands in her socks and does a little shimmy that instantly makes me hard.
I tip my head toward the bedroom, and she giggles—giggles! The next thing I know, we’re both in the shower with her bent over, clutching the built-in bench seat, and me standing behind her, thrusting slow and deep while the water pours over us. The urge to tell her I love her is powerful, but the smile on her face is distracting, and after we both come, we kiss until the water runs cold.
