Page 21 of Undeniable Love

Red hair went in all directions and glazed eyes peered up at me, blinking.

“Wanted to see your face when I came,” I said, barely able to hold back for another second. I slid back inside her slick heat and shoved a hand beneath her to lift her hips. My orgasm rushed through me, straight to my balls and the tip of my dick, and I groaned out her name along with a string of cuss words right before I came.

“Shit.” My head fell forward and her hands came up, lazily tangling in my hair. She tugged me down until I brushed my lips over hers.

“I’ve always wanted to try that, what you did…”

“You liked it.”

“Loved it,” she agreed, her lips lifting to a grin against mine.

I should have known without checking. In the weeks Meredith and I had been together, I already knew she was up for anything. She had more of an adventurous spirit than I did, willing to try anything at any time.

The more we texted, the more we saw each other, and the more I was inside of her like this, one thing became certain.

She was right all those weeks ago. Good thing she hadn’t settled on us being friends.

Someday, she was going to be the first woman I’d ever had in my life who would get absolutely everything from me. My love. My faithfulness, and hopefully, my last name.

I pulled out of her slowly but hurried to the bathroom to get her a warm, wet cloth. I took my time cleaning her before I tossed the cloth to the floor and climbed back into bed.

Curling her into me, I ran my fingers through her hair. “My dad cheated on Mom.”

At my confession—the first time I’d ever mentioned my parents at all, in fact—her breath hitched. True to form, she relaxed easily and settled her hand on my stomach.

“I’m sorry.”

“He played hockey, too, you know.”

“I didn’t.”

“He cheated. All the time. And every time my mom threatened to leave him, he’d either whisk her away on a vacation when he could or buy her new jewelry. Sometimes both and he’d be good just long enough that she started to believe he wouldn’t cheat again.”

“That must have been so hard for her.”

“Harder when he started threatening her that if she left, she’d never see me again.” I hated the man. I’d had nothing to do with him since I was drafted. Hadn’t even told him it was happening so he wouldn’t show up at my signing day. The day the news broke and he learned, he called me, pissed. Told me I’d used the wrong agent, hadn’t worked hard enough to ever be as good as him. He was a master manipulator and a larger asshole. I hadn’t spoken to him in three years, but he sure as hell called to congratulate me once he learned I got called up to Tennessee.

I blocked his number.

“I grew up seeing how hard life was being married to a professional hockey player, Meredith. There’s months when I’ll rarely be home. Months when I’ll be focused on training. And that gets longer and worse if we make playoffs. I never wanted to put a woman through all of that. And the wondering when I was traveling. The worry when her calls don’t get returned. The gossip.”

Meredith removed her hand from my stomach and pushed to a sitting position. Fear coursed through me as she sat up and gathered her hair to the back of her neck in a ponytail before letting it fall down her back. We’d left the blinds open and the bathroom light on. Enough light I could barely see the shadows of her eyes.

“How’s your mom now?”

I shoved up so I was sitting with my back against the headboard and crossed my arms over my chest. “Lost. After all the shit he put her through, she still loves and misses him. I don’t think she’s ever tried to date even though she eventually left him.”

“Are you more like your mom or your dad?”

“What?”

“Your parents. Who are you more like?”

I had my dad’s drive. His motivation and his focus on the ice. I had his eyes and his hair and his looks. But I’d never had his rudeness. His ego or his arrogance. Maybe it was because I hadn’t yet reached the pinnacle of my career like he had, or maybe he’d been born with that chip on his shoulder and believed he was better than everyone else. Where he was brash and cocky, my mom was soft. Tender. She supported him despite her pain and to her own detriment, and she’d never once raised her voice. To him or me. But she was easily broken, uncertain, and had always struggled too much with what everyone else would think of her.

“Both,” I admitted. “And neither. Maybe the best of both? I certainly hope I won’t become like my dad.”

She smiled then and crawled toward me on my bed. She flung one leg over my lap and straddled me, hands on my cheeks. “What are you so worried about then? That you’ll cheat on me like your dad?”

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