Page 106 of Home Ice

I can picture it. Waking up with him every morning. Falling asleep beside him every night. Living the rest of my life with the one person who gets me. When I see it, Chloe is there too. And Silver, because he is always going to go wherever that girl goes. Oh my god, they already are my family, aren't they? I know it just like Brant does. A warm tingle spreads through my shoulders.

Stop this! The thought stabs into my mind, trying to pierce my fantasy. You're just going to get hurt. But what if I don't? What if Em is right, and I'm trading guaranteed pain now to avoid only the possibility of pain later? Because imagining a life without Brant and Chloe, and even these guys gathered around us right now—imagining a life without my family is so painful.

"When are you going to understand how loved you are?" The words tickle my nose as he presses his forehead to mine. "Yes, I want to play hockey for as long as my body will let me, and if you would have asked me last summer, I would have told you that was the most important thing in my life. But then I got a new next door neighbor."

"Do I really count as next door since I'm technically around the corner?"

He ignores my interruption. "I knew she was special the instant I saw her. And maybe I was a little too exuberant at first, but as I got to know her, I wondered if maybe I wasn't exuberant enough. Those random thoughts we get in the shower or lying in bed at night or driving? All my life, those were about hockey. Things I can do better. Moves I need to practice. Weaknesses I've noticed in my opponents' game film. But this girl started sneaking into those thoughts, and now she's all I think about when I'm off the ice. How beautiful she is. How intelligent she is. How she makes everything amazing when I'm around her. How she makes me better.

"But for the last two days, the only thought spinning in my brain was that she was going to leave me. And I can't let her. Not without doing everything possible to let her know how firmly she's rooted into my heart. Hell, she is my fucking heart. Without her, I don't exist anymore. And if she wants to leave because it's best for her, I won't stop her. It would physically kill me, but I would drive her to the airport. If it's what she wants. But I don't think it is. And I know for fucking sure it's not what I want. All you have to do is tell me. It's that simple. Tell me you want to leave." His words have faded to a bare whisper, but that doesn't stop them from pounding me.

"I don't." The words slip out as a breath. I swallow down the entire rock formation that has grown in my throat so I can tell him again, tell him so he can hear me. But his lips cover mine, and I know he heard everything I need to tell him. His lips are so soft, so full as they steal the last of my strength. So much of it already spent simply by holding my body into a cohesive form the last two days. But now the last of it is gone, and as I open myself to him, I slide down the wall. The concrete catches and lifts my jacket and then my shirt higher on my back as I slip. There's a brief chill against my exposed skin, but Brant's lips are still pressed to mine. His tongue probing and pushing mine until it's all I can feel. Until I take over. My tongue pushes back, and one of us—both of us—whimper.

Brant works his hands around me, and I think he's going to catch me. He's always going to catch me. But he's not trying to hold me up. He's holding me against him as he lowers us both. Even when I feel the floor under me, his lips stay pressed to mine. My body is still pulled tight to his. And there really is no one else. How could I ever think about leaving this man? This kiss, my body's reaction to it—my soul's reaction to it—tells me just how foolish that thought was. I twine my fingers into his wet hair. Heat is pouring from his head, and I want to take it all. Claim it. Claim him the way he claims me. "Mine." I whisper the word into his mouth. Through our pressed lips, it comes out as a moan, but he nods. He knows. This man is mine just as much as I'm his.

The thought untangles everything that had been knotted inside me. I'm his. His girl. His family. I'm not sure if I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I'm not sure of any physical sensation right now except him. His lips. The back of his head under my hands. His hands palming the bare skin of my back. My entire world is him, and I could live here forever. I could stretch this kiss until time ends for me. I dare my body to ever need anything other than this.

"Oh my god, is she okay?" Something... someone breaks through into our world for just a flash. "Morrison, do you need help?"

"She's fine, Tommy." Brant's growl tickles my lips.

"Oh. Oh! Sorry! Um, but they need you."

Brant pulls away just a fraction of an inch, too much, and sighs. "They don't need me nearly as much as I need this."

"It's the Three Stars." The fog that had hidden my thoughts thins just enough to realize this must be Tommy Olasky. He's an intern for the local network that broadcasts the games. Since he works mostly with the television crew, I don't know him well. Just enough to know that he's sweet. "They need you on the ice. You, Roy, and Bouchard. And they named you First Star, not a surprise after that game you just had out there. I've never seen any goalie?—"

"Tell them I don't care."

I open my eyes. Everyone except Tommy is gone. I'm wedged where the wall meets the floor, and Brant is kneeling in front of me. I want to hold him here forever. "You should go."

After every game, the media votes on the top three players of the match. They're honored as the Three Stars, and they go onto the ice and salute the fans. The player selected as the First Star does a quick interview with the announcers. Fans love it, and it takes just a couple of minutes.

"I should stay here," he says. "I'm never leaving you. I hope you like showering together because you're never leaving my side."

Heat flares between my thighs at the thought. "I could certainly get used to that. But you need to go. The fans will want to see their First Star. I'll be right here."

"Then I definitely can't go. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left the woman I love in a mess on the floor?"

I slap his shoulder. "You can leave me in a mess anytime, but stop being a dork. I'll wait for you in the dressing room."

"Promise me you won't leave."

"I won't."

"Promise it." Worry sweeps over his eyes.

I press my lips to his. One last time for now. A promise of much more in the future. Our future. "I promise. I'll never leave you. Now go so the fans can cheer you and so they can get their interview."

Brant groans as he leans away from me, but then he holds his hand to help me up. "You should be the first star. They should interview you. Every stop I made out there tonight was because of you."

"No one wants an interview with me." I chuckle. "Now quit stalling. The sooner you do it, the sooner you can come back here."

He nods. "And the sooner we can go home."

"The sooner we can go home," I agree.

CHAPTER 64

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