Page 160 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

“And the way I call you Teddy Bear?” I quip, looking up at him again.

“We can put it on my tombstone.”

“And my need to come out on top in everything I do?”

“I’m a sucker for a girl who knows how to bring her A-game.”

My cheeks pinch from grinning so much. But I can’t help it. The guy makes me laugh. It’s one of my favorite things about him. “I’m pretty sure I can think of a way or two to bring my A-game right now,” I mention. “You know, if you’re interested.”

His eyes heat. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” I slip my hand down the front of his slacks and brush my palm against him. He’s already hard and jerks slightly in my grasp as I tease him shamelessly. And it’s crazy. How effortless this feels. How natural and perfect and real. It’s more than anything I could’ve imagined when I was growing up and crushing on my brother’s best friend.

It’s better.

So much better.

And yeah. We’ve had our bumps along the way, but getting Theo to let me in, to take a chance, to stay and fight for our relationship––to convince me to stay and fight for our relationship––we’re the luckiest people in the world.

He leans forward, resting his forehead against mine and closing his eyes. Despite his hard length in my hand, he doesn’t look horny. He looks…relieved. And in love.

“Olive juice, Blakely.”

My heart swells in my chest. “Olive juice, Teddy Bear. Forever and ever.” I squeeze him softly in my palm. “Now, let’s go find my bedroom.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

EPILOGUE

BLAKELY

“It just had to be Lions, didn’t it?” I mutter as I slide the hangers from left to right in the closet, perusing the new Lions merchandise I’d purchased as soon as they opened their online store in preparation for the season. I may or may not have bought every shirt, hoodie, and tank top in my size. If only they weren’t covered in my least favorite animal.

With his hands behind his head, Theo chuckles on the bed, cool as a cucumber despite his first professional hockey game tonight.

“Is there a problem with Lions, Baby Thorne?” he asks.

I glance over my shoulder and roll my eyes. “I’m just saying, they could’ve picked a better mascot, thank you very much.”

“I thought you liked lions.”

“I like lionesses,” I emphasize before grabbing a brand new black and gold hoodie from the hanger. It also happens to have the smallest lion head emblem of the bunch. “And don’t play dumb with me, mister,” I add. “We’ve had this conversation before, ya know.”

“Yeah, I think you’ve made your stance pretty clear.” Rolling off the bed, he grabs my hips and pulls me into him until my back is plastered to his front. With a quick tug, he snags the hoodie from my hands and throws it onto the bed.

I laugh and turn in his arms until I’m facing him fully. “I’m trying to get ready for your game.”

“I think I should help.” His calloused fingers slip beneath my––well, technically it’s his, but I stole it––sleep shirt and brush against my sensitive skin. Goosebumps race up my spine.

“Oh, you think you should help, do you?”

He pulls the cotton fabric over my head. My hair hangs in a mess around my bare shoulders as my sleep shirt falls at our feet. His hungry gaze slides over my mostly naked body. Then, he cups my breasts.

As I watch his massive hands practically swallow my boobs, I challenge, “This is you helping me get ready?”

“It’s me helping you relax. I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one today, Baby Thorne.” He tweaks my nipple, grabs my hips, and pulls me against him.

“I’m not nervous. I just…want you and Colt to play well and kick ass during your first game, which, by the way, is why I still stand by my idea for you guys to petition Buchanan and convince him to change the mascot to the lionesses.”

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