Page 104 of Cherry Picking
Or my heart is beating so fast I’m on the verge of a heart attack.
That’s a possibility.
“Foster.” I give him a nod as I slip on my practice jersey, sans pads since the most we’ll do is slap the puck around a little.
There’s whispers from a few guys before I hear them ushered out of the room likely by Rory as he escorts himself out as well.
“You’re such a shit,” Griff mutters, kicking my ankle with his bare foot seconds before I drop my pants to the ground. He sucks in a breath, and I bite back a smirk.
“I don’t think I’m allowed to fuck you until we make up,” I say, swapping out my regular boxers for my jock. My jersey covers my junk, and I can see the twitch in Griffin’s fingers to raise it up.
I guess he’s been as celibate as I have these last six months.
“Are we fighting?” Our stares clash, and the energy between us charges more than simple sexual urges. It’s deeper. Stronger. More polarizing.
“I don’t want to be.”
It’s instantaneous how Griffin’s shoulders slump, how an easy smile comes out as his head thunks against the wall.
“I miss having you in bed.” When I grin, he rolls his eyes. “Not just sex. Having you beside me. Waking up to your sweaty ass chest stuck to my back. The way you drag your hands through my hair and whisper ‘good morning’ until I swat you away.”
A chuckle slips out while I finish getting dressed, sitting down beside him to work on my skates and nudging him to do the same.
“I certainly miss my lazy mornings in bed with you, frat boy.”
He reaches a hand over and sets it palm up between us.
An offer.
A plea.
There’s no hesitation as I take it, wrapping my slightly chilled fingers around his warm ones.
“I love you, Riley,” he says. “If you want this, if you want to be all in with me, then I’m game.”
Heat swoops from my stomach to my chest, spreading out into a blanket of comfort that settles in my limbs.
“I want you, Griffin Foster, to be my present and my future. I can’t change the past, but I can kick myself out of living in it. You are where my heart leads. Where I want to lay down roots and build from.”
I don’t get a moment to bask in the honesty of the words; I barely get a chance to peek over and see Griffin’s wide-eyed elated expression before he’s on me.
His hand in mine is unrelenting, the other tangling in my hair and crushing my body to his as he swings a leg over myhip and settles his weight in my lap. I ground him with an arm around his waist, meeting his mouth in a heart pounding kiss that knocks me into the wall—the only thing keeping me from falling over completely.
“Say it,” he pants into my mouth, barely letting the words pass before his lips are on mine over and over again.
I laugh, kissing and holding him to me like it’ll never be enough. Because it won’t. Not in five minutes. Not in five hours.
“I love you,” I say between swipes of his tongue. “I love you.”
He growls his approval, hands slipping under my shirt to dig into my skin and make me gasp. A smile lights up his face when we finally part for breath, and he nestles his eyes in the crook of my neck.
“Knew you’d get there, Cherry Picker.”
It takes all of two seconds for it to click, for me to remember that first night we spent in bed together years ago. At the start of it all.
When it does, I crack up until my face is red and my voice is hoarse.
“Fuck you so much, Foster.”
