Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 18799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 75(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 75(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
So, I tip her chin up and cover her mouth with mine.
She tastes of tears and peppermint Chapstick. Sweet and sharp. The kiss hits like a sledgehammer. Her lips part, and I slide my tongue inside, claiming her, showing her exactly what forever means. Every sound she makes goes straight to my cock. Fuck me, I might combust on this hilltop.
Her hands fist in my shirt, yanking me closer, like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go. Not a chance in hell that’s happening. I suck her bottom lip, biting just hard enough to make her gasp.
“I love you,” I whisper against her mouth, my voice all gravel.
“I love you, too.” She smiles up at me as I lock my arms around her. She melts against me, soft and perfect, and when she finally pulls back, her eyes are shining.
We just stand there, the two of us braced against the overlook wall, the city burning below.
I never thought I’d find this kind of peace. But it’s right here with Rory, the love of my life.
My hands keep finding her. Hair, cheek, waist. I’m starving, but it’s not desperation anymore. It’s just the crazy need to keep her close, to make her safe, and to never let the world creep in.
She whispers something about the ring. I smirk, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “You like it?”
She looks up at me, eyes shining. “It’s perfect. Feels like I’m dreaming.”
“Nah. This is real, tiger.” I lean in and rest my chin on her mess of hair. “There’s nothing more real than this.”
It hits me, standing here with her, that I’m done running. Done second-guessing myself. My whole life has been chasing the next win, the next season, the next big thing.
Now? It’s simple. I work hard, come home to a woman who gives as good as she gets, and fall asleep knowing she’s in my bed and calling me hers. No drama. No bullshit.
Just love, loyalty, and maybe a little Italian family craziness on the side.
Fuck. I’m one lucky bastard.
EPILOGUE: RORY
ONE YEAR LATER
The Seattle rain is drumming a steady, familiar beat against the windows of our apartment. It’s a cozy sound, one that used to make me feel restless, but now just makes me want to sink deeper into the oversized leather sofa. The mahogany table is still there, polished and gleaming, but now it’s covered in a chaotic spread of hockey magazines, my romance and horror books, and a half-empty bowl of popcorn.
Ryan is stretched out beside me, his head in my lap as we watch some reality TV. He’s wearing an old Knights hoodie, the one with the frayed cuffs that I’ve stolen so many times it basically belongs to me now. His eyes are closed, his breathing slow and even, but his hand is resting firmly on my thigh, a constant, grounding weight.
"You're quiet," he murmurs, not opening his eyes. "Usually, by this time, you’ve got tons of theories about who’s going home."
I run my fingers through his hair, savoring the softness of it. "I’m just having a slow night." My secret sits like a rock in my stomach. I’ve been trying to find the perfect time to do this. I guess it’s now or never. "Ryan?"
He opens his eyes then, those dark, soulful eyes that still make my breath catch. "Yeah, tiger?"
I take his hand, the one resting on my leg, and guide it up. I press his palm flat against my stomach, right over the waistband of my leggings. The fabric is soft, the skin beneath it still flat, but everything has changed. The world has recalibrated in the last three hours, shifting on its axis.
"I think we’re going to need a bigger apartment," I whisper. “Maybe with a big backyard.”
Ryan freezes. For a heartbeat, he doesn't move, his gaze locked on mine, searching for the joke, the tease, the punchline that isn't coming. Then, slowly, his expression fractures. The professional athlete, the man who faces down two-hundred-pound defensemen without blinking, looks completely, utterly undone.
"Rory?" he breathes, his voice cracking. "Are you… Are we…?"
"We are," I say, a tear finally escaping and tracking down my cheek. "We’re having a baby, Ryan."
He doesn't say anything. He can't. He sits up and pulls me against his chest, burying his face in my neck, his shoulders shaking with a silent, overwhelmed joy. He holds me so tight I can feel his heart beating against mine, a frantic, beautiful echo of the life we’ve built together. It might’ve started off as a fake relationship, but it quickly grew into the most real thing in the world.
Outside, the Seattle rain continues to fall, but inside, the world is quiet. Ryan pulls back just enough to kiss me, his eyes shining with a light that eclipses the city skyline.
"About time," he whispers against my lips. "I’ve been trying to knock your gorgeous ass up since I put that ring on your finger."