Page 85 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

I shift a few things around so I can get comfortable, but instead of throwing the stuffed toy off like I do most of the cushions, I study him for a beat and then sit him on my lap. He’s cute, obviously well-loved, and I can’t help but wonder what his story is to be important enough to still have pride of place on Sienna’s bed.

I spend a few moments taking everything else in while she crashes about in the bathroom. Just like out in the living room, there are photos everywhere, proving just how important her friends and family are to her. I’m glad that she has so much love and support in her life. I also can’t help but wonder what it must feel like. Sure, I’ve got my friends, but they’re also my teammates. If I were to get traded, would that last? I’ve seen guys come and go over the years, many of whom have promised to keep in touch. The only one who ever has was Brit, Milo McKenna, my defensive partner before he was traded and replaced with Rett. We played and partied together for years. But even our messages are getting fewer and fewer over time. It’s the way it goes, and I don’t really blame either of us for it. It’s just sad how life moves on and those who were once so important become second thoughts.

Despite never forgetting about Sienna, I thought that was what had happened with her. I had no way of contacting her. She left her address before leaving that summer, and we exchanged a few letters. But then, I stopped receiving replies, and I assumed she either didn’t want to hear from me, or she’d moved. Both were equally heartbreaking.

But by some miracle, we’re getting our second chance, and I’ll be fucked if some asshole in the past is going to ruin it for me.

She’s going to need to think again if she assumes that I’m going to run away at the first hint of an issue.

So, me getting a little hot and heavy too fast freaked her out. Unlike what many out there believe, I do have some self-control, and I’m more than willing to take it slow. Hell, I’ve waited fifteen years for her. I’ve finally gotten what I’ve been dreaming of. I don’t give a fuck if I have to wait longer for everything else I crave with her.

Her shadow fills the bathroom doorway a few seconds before her body does the same. Her arms are full of bottles and containers ready to be loaded into her suitcase. And the second she looks up at her bed, her breath catches, and everything in her arms goes tumbling to the floor.

“Shit. What the hell, Killer?”

I smirk as she bends down to collect everything and throw it into her suitcase.

“You called me Killer,” I state.

“That’s what your friends call you,” she reasons.

“Yeah. I kinda like hearing you call me Calvin, though. It’s like you’re seeing me for me and not the player.”

Something akin to sympathy flickers through her eyes, but it’s gone before I can confirm if it was or not.

“I do see you,” she says quietly. “Or at least, I think I do.”

She studies me for a beat before turning toward her closet and riffling through her clothes.

“You do,” I confirm, making her pause momentarily. “You know, your bed is hella comfy.”

“I should hope so; it cost a freaking fortune. I don’t mess about when it comes to my sleep,” she says as she selects a few outfits, laying them on the bed next to me.

“I like that one,” I say, pointing at a burgundy dress that I suspect will make her rack look fucking insane.

“Obviously, that’s why I chose it,” she deadpans, shooting me a glare.

“You should wear it on our next date,” I state.

“We’ll see,” she mutters as she begins folding and putting clothes into her suitcase.

“So Idaho, huh?”

“Yep.”

She mentioned in her messages that her parents moved back to her mom’s childhood town when they retired, but she didn’t say anything else about their plans for Thanksgiving.

“What about you?” she asks as she turns toward her chest of drawers.

My dick stirs at the thought of her rooting through her lingerie drawer.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I consider what she might choose to wear under her clothes.

Whatever it is, I have no doubt that it’ll have the power to bring me to my knees.

She spins around and stuffs her underwear into the suitcase before I get a chance to get a good look. All I know was that there was a lot of black. And maybe some lace.

Damn, the thought of Sienna wearing nothing but black lace lingerie does things to me. Things they shouldn’t do, considering the turn our evening took not so long ago.