Page 59 of Passing the Red Line
“Don’t tell anyone. It’s only for you, because you wiggled yourself deep under my skin and if I don’t keep you happy then there’s a possibility that you might cut my hands off.”
“Not your hands, that’s where the money is. It would be something a lot more precious,” she says, throwing her arms around my neck and bringing her body closer to mine.
The grin on her face is a sadistic one and I love it. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Wanting to feel more of her against my body, I lean down and burrow my face into her neck. Taking in her smell and smiling at how good she feels against me. All her delicious curves fill my hands so damn perfectly.
“We didn’t get a chance to talk about the possibility of turning our relationship into more last night, like you promised,” she voices, letting out a giggle when I nip at her neck.
“No we didn’t,” I say against her neck, peppering it with kisses.
“I say we do it. I say we turn it into more,” she tells me, grabbing me by the hair and pulling my face away from her.
“Is that what you want? You hate what I do for a living, and for a good reason.”
She nods. “I’m sure. I may feel a certain way about the sport that you play but you have made me see that there are players out there that care more about other things besides the sport. You could have gone to get some ice time this morning but instead you rented out a whole damn amusement park for me because you want to make me smile. I would say that’s boyfriend material, don’t you think?”
I let my hands slide down from her waist to her ass and give her a good grip.
“I would say so, but if we make it official, I have two conditions.” I grin at her, knowing she’s going to be mine either way.
She narrows her eyes at me. “What?”
“You cook me mofongo at least once a month as my chest meal,” I offer as my first condition.
She lets out a laugh. “Me cooking it for you last week wasn’t enough?”
“Never. If I didn’t have to carb-load, I would have you make it every single day.”
She shakes her head knowing that the days of eating pasta all day everyday are upon us.
“Fine, what's your second condition?”
“You move in with me.”
I wasn’t talking out of my ass when I said the same thing earlier this morning. She needs a place, and I have a big enough condo for the both of us. Yeah I like living alone, but I’ve liked having her close by day in and day out, and a part of me, a big part, wants her in my space forever.
“What if you get traded?” She asks after a few seconds of silence.
“Then I transfer the lease to you or you go with me wherever I land.”
Yeah, I’m planning ahead. We’re just stepping into a relationship, I shouldn’t be planning, but I don’t give a shit. This woman is worth it, and I’m not going to let her go, now or ever, without a fight. Even if I’m fighting her own demons.
“You make everything sound so damn easy.”
“It is so damn easy, you just have to agree,” I tell her, meaning every single word.
“And what if I have conditions of my own?” She throws back my way, telling me that she is so close to agreeing.
“What are your conditions?” I smirk at her. I’ll give her anything she wants, possibly even giving up the game.
“We come to the beach house whenever we can during the season and stay here all off-season.”
“Deal.”
“We get through my first month with the team and then go to HR with our relationship. Together. And tell my dad at the same time.”
“Done.”
