Page 129 of Slapshot Baby

I stare at him through wet eyes.

His face is close. His hands are warm on my jaw. His brown eyes hold mine with immovable certainty.

A terrified voice in my head lists every reason this will end in devastation. Catalogs every way this man could break me if I hand him the last piece of myself I've been holding back.

But there's another voice now.

Quieter. Steadier.

Saying something I haven't let myself hear in years.

What if he stays?

"Okay," I whisper.

"Okay what?"

"Okay, I'll be your girlfriend.” My voice shakes. Every cell in my body vibrates with terror. “And if you ever make me regret this, I’ll burn your life to the ground."

His lips stretch into a wide smile. "I believe you."

I glare. "I mean it."

He presses his forehead against mine. Breathes. His hands slide from my jaw to the back of my neck and hold me there.

“Thanks, Ava.”

“What if I’d said no?”

“I’d have respected your choice. It’s keeping the relationship in limbo that was killing me.”

I grab his face with both hands and pull his mouth down to mine, needing desperate proof that he's real. That the man I just handed every fragile piece of myself to isn't going to dissolve the second I stop gripping.

His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head. His tongue strokes mine, slow and deep, tasting my lips.

I pull him closer. My fingers caress his jaw, his neck, the muscles along his shoulders.

The hard length of him presses against my hip through his jeans. The contact sends a bolt of heat through my core.

"Let’s go to the bedroom," I say against his mouth.

"You don't have to."

"I need you, Kai."

His hands tighten in my hair and his kiss turns urgent, bruising, his teeth catching my lower lip.

He lifts me. My legs lock around his waist and I bury my face in his neck, breathing him in, my arms cinched tight.

His hands grip the backs of my thighs as he carries me through the living room. His mouth is on my neck, his teeth scraping the tendon below my ear.

Biscuit trots behind us for a few steps then veers toward her water bowl and stays there.

He enters the bedroom and lays me on the bed. I don't let go. My arms stay locked behind his neck, pulling him down with me, refusing to allow even a second of separation.

He braces above me on one arm, his free hand finding the buttons of my blouse. My fingers tear at his shirt, yanking it over his head, needing his bare skin against mine.

He pulls my blouse open and his hands slide beneath me, unclasping my bra. The moment it's gone, I press my bare breasts against the warm planes of his chest.