Page 69 of The Sweetest Chirp

I chuckle along with her as I open her door and take her hand before she lowers herself into it. I lean on the doorframe, holdingher eyes as her lips curl up in a devastating way. “I had a hard time telling you no when you’d grin and wiggle your fingers at me for the keys.”

Her eyes sizzle with fire, and I want to fall into them even if they burn me to a crisp. As an Orlov, I’ll always rise from the ashes and be better than ever. I learned that the hard way when she left. Ignoring that thought, I tap the top of the car as I shut the door, before getting in myself. The car rumbles to life, and she giggles at the sound. “When was the first time we took this out?”

“Twelve years ago,” I tell her, loving her carefree look. It’s almost as if we’re seventeen again, exploring the world together. “We were in Montréal at the time, and that new poutine place had just opened downtown.”

She snaps her fingers. “Yeah! We went to do that walking tour since we had just moved there.”

“And Dad had surprised me with the Spider the day before.”

She lets her head rest on the back of the seat as she bites her lip. “I hate that we only stayed for a year. I loved that place. The food, the sights, all so beautiful.”

I reach over, threading my fingers with hers. “I had my sights on you.”

“Stop,” she jests, her eyes darkening.

“You wore my USA Worlds sweatshirt with bright-red leggings and snow boots up to your knees. You had your hair in a braid that was wrapped into a bun, and you had just gotten that lip ring, so you kept fiddling with it.” I exhale, remembering that day like it was yesterday. “Driving me crazy with it because I wanted so badly to feel it against my lips.”

Her jaw goes slack a bit as she holds my gaze. Then with a waggle of her brows, she says, “Should have kissed me then.”

I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. “I should have.”

I wonder how much different everything would have been if I had. If I had just taken her face and nibbled on the spot by her piercing.

“I miss that piercing.”

She snorts. “Mom and Maeve hated it.”

“Right? They were so mad that you did it.”

With a look of pure rebellion that I remember from when we were younger, she shrugs as she brushes invisible dust off her dress. “I wanted it done, so I did it.”

She’s always done whatever she wanted, when she wanted, and how she wanted.

Except when it came to me. To us.

I glance over at her as our laughter subsides, and the look we share heats up after a few seconds. I should kiss her now, mess up that perfectly glossy mouth. She starts to squirm under my gaze, and when the slit in her dress opens a bit to show off that thigh of hers, I want to slide my fingers right into her sweet pussy. But this isn’t about our desires.

This is about showing her my love and respect.

But on the caveman side of my brain, I’m totally nailing her into the bearskin rug of my cave.

I ignore that part of my psyche, which is as hard as solving a Rubik’s Cube when you’re not a genius, especially with how gorgeous and fuckable she is with that thick thigh on display. Trying desperately to keep it together, I drive off our families’ estates to the interstate. We reminisce about Montréal, and I hadn’t realized I missed it until now. We were there for only a year, stayed in a penthouse that was shared with our families. I had been training for Worlds, and it was also the summer I was being looked at for drafting. William was, and hell, still is, very involved in my hockey career—just as much as my own dad. Our families all sat together when I was drafted. I’ll always hold that memory close to my heart because I sat between them, and theywere the first people I hugged before I went onto the stage to accept my IceCats jersey.

As she laughs about that one time we went for a polar bear plunge, I glance over and take her in. She’s absolutely stunning, and as I stare at her, I realize all my greatest memories have her in it. She has always been the one for me, and no amount of time could ever change that. I want her in my life, not just for the good times, but the bad ones too, because that’s how we grow.

Together.

Need for her suffocates me as I pull off the interstate and head for the restaurant. As we make our way to our destination, I feel my need morph into nerves. What if she doesn’t enjoy what I’ve put together? What if it’s all too over the top? What if it seems like I’m trying too hard?

Am I trying too hard?

Can you try too hard when you really want someone?

Fuck me, I’m sweating.

I turn into Jennings, a steak house that is the hottest spot in town right now. The magnificent steel building, which has huge windows with sparkling lights hanging in them, glitters from a distance, and I’m pleased with the sharp breath she pulls in. But then she turns to me. “Are they closed?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

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