Chapter Thirteen

 

Six weeks later

 

“Raven, breakfast,” I called through the screen doors.

He was swimming lengths. He’d calculated how many he needed to do to complete a mile a day. So far his leg was the best it had been in a long time and his shoulder completely back to normal. He’d even done several gentle practices on the ice in preparation for getting back into it full-time.

He reached the end of the pool and flicked his head to shake hair from his face. “Yep, just finished.”

I paused, even though the eggs needed my attention, and watched every defined muscle in his back and arms tense as he burst upward out of the water and got to his feet.

He reached for a towel and I dashed back to the stove. Stirred the eggs and re-whisked the hollandaise sauce. My newfound domesticity in Orlando suited me very well, though I guess the sexy company and the lack of work pressures helped. But it couldn’t last forever.

I wasn’t an American and I had bills back in the UK to pay while I was here living it up as a hockey star’s girl. Soon reality would have to be faced, as would an Atlantic plane journey. And if Raven hadn’t been able to cope with the distance between New York and Orlando when it came to romance, would he even try a US-UK relationship?

The coffee machine clicked in readiness and my heart dropped at the thought of not being in this kitchen, eating breakfast with Raven, lunch and dinner, too. Then curling up in his bed every night, having him touch me, hold me, kiss me. Making me feel like the most special woman on the planet. What would that would be like? To be apart after all this time together.

It didn’t bear thinking about. I’d become entrenched in his life, it was like a long wonderful holiday. I even had friends now who were fun to hang out with. Carly, Dana and Brooke had readily accepted that I was with Raven. Carly had even gone so far as giving me a hug and saying that she was glad I’d be sticking around. What she meant was if I’d stuck with Todd he would have moved on by now and so would I.

And Todd had moved on. In his last call from New York, he’d said he was seeing someone—though he was cagey about details. But we were meeting up with him soon and he promised we would meet the new woman in his life then. If he was still with her, that was.

“Mmm, looks good,” Raven said behind me.

I turned, holding the whisk in the air, and smiled.

Mmm, you look good.

He’d pulled his hair back and it shone with water. His skin was damp, a trickle left his jawline, traveled down his neck and onto his dark tattoo. He rubbed his towel over his chest, gathering up the sparkling drops of water, then rubbed down the tempting dark line of hair that led to the waistband of his swim shorts.

“What?” he asked, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes.

I grinned and flicked off the stove. Walked over to him, whisk still held aloft. “I was thinking how much I enjoyed being here, cooking, swimming, hanging out and then you walked in and I realized it’s not being here I like, it’s being with you.”

“Ah, pumpkin,” he smiled down at me, “you say the sweetest things.” Hooking the crook of his index finger beneath my chin, he tilted my head and kissed me.

At the slight taste of chlorine mixed with his unique, dark flavor, my body came to life. Despite the fact he was damp, heat radiated from him onto my bikini-clad skin.

In an instant the kiss grew hotter. It was when I leaned forward and my breasts skimmed his chest it happened. Suddenly his tongue was more insistent, the towel fell to the floor and his arms wrapped around me, tugging me close. Breakfast would have to wait—I was hungry for something else and it seemed he was, too.

I sucked in a breath, his breath, and looped my arms behind his neck. Adoring the feel of his skin on my arms and his hair beneath my hands but being careful not to touch the sticky whisk to his head.

“Oh fuck, why is it I can’t help myself when you’re around?” he asked, spreading kisses over my cheek and down my neck.

Fluttering butterflies of sensation washed over my scalp and my pussy gave a tremor of excitement. “It’s okay, because I can’t help myself, either.” I reached down and deftly slipped my fingers beneath the waistband of his wet swim shorts. The hot tip of his cock was waiting. I brushed over the smooth head then grasped his shaft.

He groaned and found my mouth again. I treated him to a few firm push-pulls, which drew him to full hardness—blood racing to his cock in response to my touch. The contrast between hot, hard flesh and the cooling, damp shorts was divine.

One swift tug and I was in the air, forced to remove my hands from his shorts in order to grip him for balance. The whisk clattered messily to the floor, forgotten.

“You’re a bad influence on a poor, starving hockey player,” he murmured, stepping toward a chair and sitting down.

“Yeah, you’re positively wasting away.” I ran my hands over the impressive width of his back and balanced the tips of my toes on the floor. I was straddling his lap, my crotch pressing into his cock. “You better put me down and go eat.”

“Hell, if the best chef in the world walked into the room now and offered to prepare me a twelve-course breakfast I’d tell him to fuck off. There’s something else I have to do first.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“This.” He suddenly tipped me backward, spread his hands over my shoulders and latched on to my breast through my bikini top.

I gasped as he gripped the top with his teeth and yanked it to the side. He captured my nipple, sucking it hard and deep. Lust raged through me; his mouth on any part of my body was like having an electric shock, but a good one, one that whizzed pleasure to my nerves and shot desire to my groin.

Pulling aside the material covering my other breast, I offered that nipple. He took it eagerly, swirling his tongue over the taut peak before pulling it in.

I tipped my head to the ceiling, shut my eyes and reveled in being adored by him. I had to take what I could while I could and was determined to remember every touch and every kiss and store them for when I was missing him. Which would be soon.

“You taste peachy today,” he whispered.

“New shower gel,” I managed, tugging his hair from its ponytail. I loved it hanging around his face and shoulders when we made love. It was so silky soft and never seemed to tangle. It was a curtain of luxury to lose myself in.

Cradling the back of my skull, he urged me to face him again. His moist lips were curled in a sinful grin. “Great choice of swimwear,” he said, running ran his hands down my body.

I was aware of a slight tug at my hips, glanced down and remembered these particular bikini bottoms were held in place with bows. He was pulling them, both at the same time. With no effort at all, the scrap of material became a loose bit of cloth.

“Perfect,” he said, sliding it from beneath me and dropping it to the floor.

The hardness beneath my crotch was increasing as was my need to feel him filling me. I shifted my weight onto one foot and he tugged his cock from his shorts, shoving them down his legs and onto the floor.

“Sit on me, pumpkin,” he said huskily, holding his cock upright. “Sit on me and ride me.”

Oh, what an invitation.

My pussy was already wet for him and, spreading my hands on his shoulders, I re-straddled him and watched as his glans disappeared between my legs.

A whimper escaped my lips as the first inch of him pressed in—partly pleasure, partly an erotic stitch of discomfort. I would miss this so damn much when I went back to Wales. Not having Raven inside me would be like losing a limb. I would never fill the emptiness or replace the sensation.

“Fuck, yeah, you hug my dick so tight,” he said, urging me lower.

My juices were flowing fast now, coating his heated shaft, easing his way. We’d dispensed with condoms a week ago. A quick trip to the clinic had sorted out the necessaries, and now every time we made love the experience of flesh on flesh was wondrous and new all over again. It had been many years since I’d gone without a condom and it certainly hadn’t been as exquisite or beautiful as it was with Raven.

“That’s it, all the way,” he murmured onto my neck.

My pussy was trembling as I reached fullness, my breaths coming fast and irregular. But still he kept on forcing me down. I shut my eyes, I wanted it. I wanted it all.

“Oh, oh, that’s it,” I gasped, feeling my butt cheeks hit his thighs and my clit come into contact with his hard pubis. He was nudging my cervix, the experience of which always gave me a dense, right-up-to-my-throat feeling.

He dug his fingers into my butt cheeks and set me on a rocking, riding motion.

My clit was ground against him and a greedy, pressure-hungry sensation captured me, spreading its needy fingers throughout the rest of my pelvis, the rest of my body. My heart was jackhammering and I gripped his shoulders, needing his solidity to keep me in one piece.

“Why haven’t we done it like this before?” he asked, his hot, jagged breaths breezing over my cheek. “On a chair, it’s fucking awesome.”

“Yes, yes,” I managed, picking up the pace. I wanted to do it in every position, in every room, in every way with him before I had to leave—because goodness only knew when I’d want to have sex with anyone again who wasn’t him.

“You feel amazing,” he said, nipping at the taut tendons in my neck. “And you look it, too, when you’re wild and full of me.” He pulled back and stared down at my jiggling breasts. “Go faster, make me come at the same time as you.”

My clit was getting ready to explode, the pressure within it reaching boiling point. I didn’t think he was too far off either. I’d learned that the very base of his shaft swelled just before his climax, and if he was buried deep within me this produced a sexy nipping sensation in the already taut, overstretched flesh at the opening of my pussy. I’d come to love that sensation, and now, as soon as I felt it, I wanted to come myself.

It was there, that erotic sting. His breaths were loud, a groan or hiss accompanying each one.

“Raven, Raven, I’m coming…”

“Thank fuck,” he said, holding my body tight against his and giving an almost violent upward surge of his hips.

I was over the edge, falling, spiraling through bliss. Every wild spasm of my pussy around his pulsating cock seemed to send me higher, pull me into new portals of sugar-coated heaven. The wet warmth spurting into me heated my soul.

A single tear squeezed from my eye.

I can’t live without this.

“Hey, pumpkin,” he gasped, clutching my cheeks in his hands. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I managed, jerking my hips forward, drawing out every last drip of pleasure from my climax.

“There is. What is it?”

“I, I’m going to miss you, when I have to go back to the UK.”

His lips went into a tight line and he sucked in a breath.

I slowed my rocking and allowed him to tuck my head under his chin. His back was laced with sweat and his gorgeous, post-sex smell wrapped around me, filling my nostrils and my lungs.

“We need to have breakfast and get going,” he said, pushing my wild ringlets from my face and kissing the top of my head.

“Where? I thought we were staying in today.”

“Oh no, we’re going to the rink.”

“The rink?”

“Yeah, I’m going to teach you to skate.”

 

*****

 

I stared at the zigzag pattern on my woolen gloves as I clung to the panel around the Vipers’ home rink. Who the hell had made ice so damn slippery?

My feet felt as though they were on glass. Hard, cold, moving glass. The blades on my boots were the most ridiculous things I’d ever stood on. My left foot seemed determined to go forward, my right intent on traveling backward. I shoved my butt in the air and attempted a slight sideways movement, all the time gripping desperately.

“Hey, come on. It’s not that difficult,” Raven said, effortlessly skimming from one side of me to the other. “Just relax.”

“Easy for you to say,” I said on a gulp. How the hell could anyone stand on this stuff, let alone move?

Suddenly his big arms were around my waist, pulling me backward, away from the safety of the perimeter. “Hey, no, get off. This isn’t funny,” I shouted.

“Sure it is.”

My back hit his chest and, although my feet sped off in different directions, he held me tight and secure and thankfully upright.

I grasped him. “Raven, really, I can’t do this. I’ve never been any good at balancing. They threw me out of the school gymnastic team because I fell over just looking at the beam.”

He chuckled in my ear. “I’ve seen you balance perfectly well on top of me.”

Banging my fist on his arm, I said, “Seriously, take me over there, to the side.”

“Nope.”

He was still skating backward and taking me with him, faster and faster.

“Just go with the flow,” he said, effortlessly spinning me in his arms so I was facing him. I gripped the fleecy red Viper top he wore and whimpered in terror.

“One foot in front of the other,” he said, “but not a step, a glide.”

“I can’t do it.” My feet were a tangled, stuttering mess beneath me. If he weren’t holding me up I’d be a jellified heap on the ground.

“Come on. You’re made of tougher stuff,” he said, speeding up rather than slowing down and heading toward the center of the rink instead of the edge.

The swishing sound of the ice slicing beneath us filled my ears. The chill air swept down my throat. My feet were kind of going in the right direction, but only because he was holding me and guiding me.

“That’s it,” he said. “You’re getting the hang of it now.”

“Don’t let me go,” I warned, fully aware of the panic in my voice.

His grip tightened. “I don’t intend to.”

Once again he spun me so we were both facing the same way, then he took off, clockwise and at a scary speed around the edge of the rink.

“I don’t like it,” I said, watching the ice speed past my skates. Little chips sprayed to the side with each faltering step-slide I took.

“Hey, you give massages for a living and I tried that on you, even though it’s not my thing. Did I object?”

“No, because you enjoyed it just fine,” I replied, remembering only too well how every time he’d given me a massage he ended up burying himself deep inside me. Not that I was complaining.

“Stand here,” he said, heading over to the net. “Maybe you’re not cut out to be a forward, but let’s see how you cope with Reed’s job.”

“What’s that?” My eyes widened as the goal approached.

“He’s a goalie.”

“Oh, okay.” The thought of having something to hang on to if Raven moved away was very attractive.

“Stay here,” he said, skidding us to a smooth halt. “Hold this.”
I gripped his arm as he passed me a hockey stick.

“Let go of me,” he said with a laugh. “You can stand up just fine.”

“I can’t. Don’t you get it? Just because skating is easier than walking for you, for me it’s like breathing under water. I can’t do it.” Irritation was welling within me. Thoughts of nice normal shoes and a floor surface that wasn’t glacial were becoming increasingly appealing, not to mention necessary.

“Look, just stand still. There’s no need to wobble. Let’s see if you can stop a puck.”

“Raven,” I squealed as he zipped off.

Two, three pushes of his legs and he was a quarter way up the rink, tapping a puck in front of his own stick. Frantically I caught my balance, using the stick as if it were a crutch.

“Concentrate,” he called as he spun.

How the hell did he do that?

“Keep your eye on the puck and stop it getting past you. Imagine it’s the Islanders trying to get that final shot. You’ve got to stop them. Everyone is depending upon you. The whole arena.”

With a swift flick of his wrist, the puck shot down the ice toward me.

A small, red, box-like puck.

Not like a puck at all.

The surface of the box was velvety and soft looking. On the top was a gold clasp. It spun and swirled toward me—silently, softly, swiftly.

My stick was poised, ready to flick it back to him. But as it skidded and slowed, my heart fluttered and my arms froze.

What Raven had just hit toward me was no puck. It was a jewelry box. A very expensive-looking jewelry box.

I caught it in the hook of my stick and, for the first time in several minutes, thoughts of staying upright fled my mind. Luckily that didn’t seem to affect my balance.

“Raven, what…?” I looked up. He was standing in the middle of the rink. Still in the position from where he’d sent his shot.

Our gazes connected.

He straightened.

I was suddenly aware of the hum of the ice, the whirr of the air-conditioning. My breath misting in front of my face.

“Open it,” he called.

“But…?” I looked down. If I moved, even enough to pick the thing up, I was going to land on my ass.

“Fiona?”

“I-I can’t reach it.” The stick braced beneath me was all that was stopping me from toppling over, legs akimbo. Moving was not an option.

A whoosh and a shower of ice and he was next to me, his hand cupping my elbow, instantly taking my weight. “Pumpkin, you okay?”

I nodded. There was a bite of pain in my eyes. Tears were welling. It couldn’t really be what I thought it was.

“Pick it up,” he whispered.

He held me tighter as I stooped. His touch, his hand, was a lifeline. As if in slow motion, I saw my fingers wrap around the velvety box, grip it, lift it.

My stick, his stick, fell to the floor. The clatters echoed up to the high, domed ceiling.

His eyes were dark and his eyebrows were pulled low, shadowing his irises further under the intense spotlights above us. His lips were a tight, anxious line and the center of his cheeks hollowed as he dragged in air. “Please, open it,” he said.

With shaky hands, I flipped the lid.

Nestled in a white silk cushion was a platinum ring. A huge diamond sparkled up at me, its multifaceted sides winking in the icy light. “Raven, I—”

“Shh.”

Still holding me so I didn’t topple—and now it was my weak legs as well as my unstable footing that was about to give—he got down onto one knee.

Suddenly the intensity of my feelings, the surrealness of the moment threatened to overwhelm me. “Raven, what are you doing?”

“Shh.” He captured my gaze with his. “Fiona, I need to get a few things straight.” He paused and swallowed. “One, I’m done sharing you. I want you to be mine and mine alone. It was fun with Todd but that’s it.” He shook his head. “No more. No one else. Ever.”

“I don’t want anyone else. It’s just you.” I glanced back at the huge diamond. “But—”

“Two,” he interrupted. “The thought of you leaving, going back to Wales makes me sick to my stomach. In fact,” he pressed his fist to his chest, “it makes it damn hard to breathe. I want you to stay here, in Orlando. I know you like to be your own boss so maybe set up your own clinic. I’ll finance it. Pay me back or don’t pay me back. It’s up to you. But please, no more talk of going an ocean away from me. I can’t fucking stand it.”

My heart was really thumping now. He didn’t want me to go. He wanted me to stay in Florida. It was what I wanted more than anything. “But, Raven, I can’t. There’s the small problem of visas and my stuff and—”

“And third.” He sucked in a fast, hard breath and blinked rapidly a few times. “Would you consider doing me the very great honor of being my wife?”

“Wife?”

“What do you think that is, a damn friendship ring?” He stood, dragged me close and pressed the tip of his nose to mine.

“Well, no, I—”

“Marry me, please. Be my wife. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. You’ve taken my heart so completely. I want to spend my life with you. Wake up every morning with you and then go to bed every night with you. My God…” He paused and shook his head. “I’ve even been daydreaming what our kids will look like. Two little girls with your red hair and freckles, your smile, your green eyes. And I sure as hell have never done that before. But you’ve made me realize what it is I want when I’m done with hockey. I want you, I want our future together.”

I could actually see the tears resting on my bottom lashes now. All the things he was saying, at one time in my life would have had me running to the hills. Staying in one place, with one man, leaving Wales forever. But now, those words from Raven’s mouth were nectar to my ears. Swelling my heart and wrapping like cashmere around my soul.

He cupped my face with his palm, stroked his thumb over my cheek. “You’re scaring me, pumpkin, please…say something.”

I pulled in a juddering breath. “What is it about you?” With the jewelry box still in my hand, I wrapped my arms around his waist. “That makes it impossible to say no?”

His mouth twitched. “Does that mean it’s a yes?”

“Yes, it’s a yes. Raven, I love you so much. Nothing would make me happier, more complete or more proud than to be your wife.”

He kissed me, such a long, hot, wet kiss I was surprised the entire rink didn’t melt. I clung to him, fed him kiss for kiss and wondered at how the sullen patient who’d teased me so infuriatingly had become my world, my universe, my future. If happiness could be ranked the way hockey teams were, then I was flying high, top of the league, the trophy was mine and I was never going to let it go.

THE END