Leave Me Breathless: The Ivy Collection

by KL Donn

  He lifts an eyebrow as his eyes widen with surprise. “What does that mean?”

  “I want you inside me, Sylvain,” I whisper. Then lift my head and nip his earlobe. “I need you inside me.”

  “Fuuuuuck.” He rolls off me and onto his back, rubbing his face with both hands.

  “What?” I ask, turning to look at him. “Is something wrong? Do you not want to have sex with me?”

  “I absolutely want to have sex with you.” He sweeps his thumb across my cheek softly. “But I don’t have any condoms.”

  “None? Not even upstairs?” Instead of asking him outright, I’m trying to make my nosiness causal. Even though I should feel comfortable enough to ask whatever the hell I want since I’m lying in bed with him naked from the waist down.

  If he doesn’t have any condoms down here, I get it. But if he doesn’t have any in this house at all, it means he’s either out or he doesn’t have a lot of sex here. Doesn’t mean he’s not having sex other places—just not here.

  “It’s been awhile since I’ve been with someone, Emma,” he says, as if reading my mind.

  “Me too,” I admit. “Years.”

  “You’re not disappointed?” he asks.

  “Disappointed?” I lift myself up on an elbow. “I just came harder than I ever have in my life—and that’s including with a vibrator.”

  “Really?” He cocks his head.

  I nod.

  “We need to get you a stronger vibrator.” He winks.

  “I don’t know, I’d take that tongue of yours any day.”

  Sylvain inches closer and places his hand on my waist. “Maybe we can just lie together? Would that be alright?”

  “Don’t you want me to—” I glance toward his penis. “You know?”

  “No,” he says firmly. “After feeling your pussy contract around my fingers, my cock is jealous. If we get going again, I’m going to need to get inside you.”

  I bite my lip, contemplating the situation. If I tell him we don’t need to have a condom because I can’t get pregnant anyway, we may be able to have some fun.

  But if I tell him I can’t get pregnant, that may change his feelings for me.

  Not that I think he’s trying to have kids with me at this moment, but once he finds out, he might not want to pursue the relationship at all.

  Wouldn’t losing him now would be a safer option than losing him later when I’ve gotten more attached?

  My stomach is in knots, but I truly believe being open and honest is always better than keeping secrets. I harden my heart, preparing myself for the backlash of what I’m about to tell him.

  “Well, if you really want to fuck, you don’t have to worry about getting me pregnant. I can’t have kids, anyway.”

  19

  SYLVAIN

  “What?” I ask, twisting my face in confusion as I scramble upright.

  What does she mean she can’t have kids?

  “I had cancer, Sylvain.” Emma flips into onto her back and rolls her eyes to the ceiling, like she’s trying to keep from crying. “They took out everything; ovaries, uterus. I can’t have kids even if I wanted to.”

  I steeple my fingers in front of my mouth, swallowing hard as I process what she just revealed.

  After a few seconds of silence, she turns over and tries to slide out of bed. “I gotta get out of here.”

  “No!” I grab her arm. “Please talk to me, Emma.”

  Jerking out of my grasp, she sits on the edge of the bed with her back to me. Her shoulders heave as if she’s been running.

  “Are you okay?”

  She dismisses me with a shrug.

  I close my eyes and take a breath, trying to figure out what to say. The last thing I want to do is upset her even more.

  “I’m so sorry, Emma. I—I feel like a complete asshole.”

  “Don’t,” she whispers, glancing at me over her shoulder. “You didn’t know.”

  She’s right, I didn’t. And that’s why I feel like an absolute asshole. How did I not know she had cancer? I walked into Explorer Academy a few times a week while she was gone, and I never asked about her?

  “That’s why you were out of work for so long.”

  She nods.

  “You should have told me,” I say, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

  “It’s not that easy.” She stands up quickly, dodging my touch. “You wanted to know why I begged you for this job, right? Well, here’s the answer: I need the money. I’m tens of thousands of dollars in debt from medical bills health insurance didn’t cover. And, never mind, I’m sorry. I—” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

  Covering her face with both hands, she rolls her shoulders as she hurries past, evading me completely.

  Her words slice into my deepest fears and flood my head with memories of Danica.

  Money. It’s always about money.

  I know this is not the same situation. Emma and my ex are complete opposites in every single way. Emma is not with me to get my money or advance her career.

  Well, technically, she is—but she’s not doing it under the guise of loving me. I’m paying her to do a job.

  My insecurities aren’t Emma’s fault, and she shouldn’t have to deal with my issues.

  I hear the door slam, but it doesn’t stop me from following her. Emma?” I stand outside her room, fist hovering and poised to knock.

  But I don’t.

  She knows I’m out here, ready to push aside my reservations from my past experience and comfort her. I’ll get over my insecurities. If she needs me, I’ll be here for her. But right now, she must need space, or she would open the door and talk to me.

  I drop my arm and skulk back to my room. We won’t have much time tomorrow morning before I leave, but Emma’s made it a point to get up and have a cup of coffee with me every day since she started, so we’ll have a little time to talk in the morning. Enough time to let her know how much I care about her.

  The next morning, I stall as long as I possibly can, sipping my coffee nervously as my eyes flick to the clock every five seconds. The Lyft I scheduled to take me to the airport will be here any minute. The Chargers don’t hold the team charter plane for one late asshole.

  My phone chimes, alerting me my ride is out front. Defeated, I set my cup in the sink and grab my duffle bag. As soon as I slide in, I drop my head back and stare out the window, wishing Emma were in the doorway seeing me off in her unassumingly sexy pjs.

  It’s weird how easy it was to get used to something I never thought I’d have.

  My head has been reeling since Emma told me she had a cancer. If her dropping that bomb wasn’t enough, I didn’t get a chance to talk to her afterwards. And instead of staying on the line and talking to her after Paige got bored during our daily video chats, I avoided her all together.

  My head is a mess, and until I can figure out how I feel and how to move forward, I don’t know what to say. It’s been years—almost five, to be exact—since I’ve been this completely head-fucked during the season.

  I’ve used every spare minute over the last four days to sort everything out and get my head in the game again.

  It’s bad enough that I didn’t know Emma had cancer while she was going through it, and when she finally opened up enough to tell me, I left her for four fucking days.

  Our plane touched down in Charlotte less than an hour ago, and I’m already on the way home, riding shotgun in Mac’s Range Rover. I’ve been hitching a ride with teammates over the last two weeks because I wanted Emma to have my car to drive Paige around.

  But I specifically asked Mac if he could drive me home from the airport tonight because I need to talk to someone about it. Someone who can be serious instead of making it all about sex. Emma means much more than that.

  “What’s going on, kid?” Mac asks, glancing at me as we sit at a red light. “You were quiet the entire trip. Its unlike you.”

  I’ve always gotten along with my coaches, but I have a closer relations
hip with Mac than I’ve ever had with anyone in the past.

  Because he’s been through so much in hockey and his personal life, I value his advice. Though I haven’t told him exactly how much I like Emma, he’s heard me talk about her nonstop in the locker room over recent days, so he has a good idea about the intensity of our relationship.

  “She’s sick, Mac.” I look out my window, staring into the distance as we talk.

  At that moment, the light turns green. He swivels his head between me and the road. “What do you mean, she’s sick? Who’s sick? Your mom?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Emma. She has cancer. Had,” I correct myself. “She had cancer.”

  “Fuck, Bergie.” He leans back in his seat and grips the steering wheel with both hands. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah” I sigh. “I think so. Her doctors think they got all of it in surgery. She finished chemo a few weeks ago and her scans look clear.”

  “That’s good. So why are you so upset?”

  “While my stupid ass was making asshole jokes about hoping she got fired, she was lying in a hospital bed getting tumors cut out of her body.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’d be a completely different story if you were making shitty jokes when you knew what she was going through, but you didn’t.”

  “I know.” I rub my face with both hands. “Ugh! I really like Emma.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Mac laughs. “You’re a freaking lovesick puppy dog.”

  I swallow hard and stare out the front windshield. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “What do you mean?” He gives me a sidelong glance.

  “Taking care of a kid with no help is a rough job. The sleepless nights, the running around. Playdates and grocery shopping and—”

  “You already do it all, what’s the problem?”

  “Not me, Mac. Emma. How am I going to put all that responsibility on her when she’s so sick?”

  “She chose to take the job, right?”

  “She begged me for it,” I say with a snarky smile, not one to let the opportunity to lighten the mood slide.

  He rolls his eyes. “If she wanted it—begged you for it—” he exaggerates. “Then she you have to trust she can handle it.”

  “I know, but—”

  “There is no but. What’s the real story? You can be honest, Bergie. I’m not going to judge you. Do you not want to be with her because she’s sick?”

  “No!” I protest honestly. “I’m worried about the workload because I care about her. I want to make her life easier, not harder.”

  “I get that, but what’s the—”

  “She can’t have kids,” I interject. “She had ovarian cancer, and they had to remove everything in there.” I wave my fingers over my stomach and crotch.

  “Ohhhh.” Mac nods in understanding. “And you might want more kids.”

  I clench my fists. “I hate feeling that way, but I know myself. I’ve always known that I wanted a family—two or three kids. Hell, look how hard I fought for Paige.”

  “Didn’t a surrogate mother carry Paige?”

  I turn toward Mac. “Yes, but I wasn’t expecting every kid to be born that way.”

  “And Emma wasn’t expecting to be diagnosed with cancer,” he reminds me.

  I swallow hard. He’s absolutely right.

  Shit happens in life that we can’t control. Like cancer at twenty-three or falling for a woman who can’t have kids.

  “Look, I understand,” he continues. “I know you’re a family guy. I know how much you love kids. You’ve got to think long and hard about what you want. If you look me in the eye and say you want to father more kids, and you want your wife to carry them, there’s nothing wrong with saying that or wanting that. But if that’s a requirement—something you absolutely can’t compromise on—you need to be honest with yourself—and Emma.”

  20

  EMMA

  I’m almost asleep when I hear the lock jingle on the front door. It’s not that I feel unsafe in Sylvain’s house, but there’s a certain comfort in having him home. Even if I’ve barely spoken to him since I told him I had cancer and couldn’t have kids.

  Over the last few days, he’s made it crystal clear that he does not want to pursue anything further with me after I dropped that bomb. There’s no reason to be salty, because it’s better to know before I got in too deep, but it sucks because I was getting used to being with him.

  He knocks once before bursting into my room without waiting for my answer or permission. As he strides to my bed, he’s stuffs something in his back pocket.

  “I didn’t realize giving up my privacy would be part of the job,” I say, pulling the comforter up to cover my chest.

  “We made the mistake of shutting each other out already, and I’m not letting it happen again,” Sylvain promises, dropping to his knees beside my bed and taking my hands. “Look, Emma. I fucked up. I know it. I’ve been thinking about what you told me the entire time I was gone.

  “I can’t explain why I acted like such a dumbass. I just—” He pauses, staring at our joined hands before resuming his thoughts. “I needed time to process everything, ya know? And I could have—should have—done a better job communicating what I was feeling. But I don’t always process things quickly. Especially with the pace of my life.”

  “It’s okay,” I croak out before he starts speaking again. “You don’t owe me anything. Not an explanation or an apology.”

  “Stop.” He moves one hand to my chin, tilting my face until our eyes meet. “I’m done with the games. You don’t deserve games and you shouldn’t accept games. I messed up when I freaked out. I’m not opposed to being with someone who can’t have kids, Emma. I just wasn’t prepared to hear that, ya know? I wasn’t prepared to hear the woman I’m falling for had cancer, and I felt like an idiot because I didn’t even know what you were going through while it was happening.”

  “Falling for me,” I repeat. My heart presses against my ribcage, thumping to get out and join into Sylvain’s pocket. He has me hook, line, and sinker. I lift my hand to his cheek.

  “I’m absolutely falling for you. You’ve invaded my mind and soul. It’s messing with my head, but I like what we have.” Sylvain leans closer to me. He slides his fingers across my face and holds his palm against my cheek. “I like you.”

  “I like you, too,” I whisper as tears well up in my eyes.

  “I’ve been keeping women at a distance, and blaming it on me being a single dad. When really, I couldn’t get over the insecurity and hurt after what happened with Danica. I refused to be taken advantage of and gutted by another woman. A lot of things that I saw as you challenging me were really just your way of helping me be a better parent. Instead of being angry, I should have been thankful for the help.”

  “Stop,” I mimic his command. “You went through a horrible situation with a woman who treated you like crap. I understand the pain and hurt and how my situation brought up those feelings again. And I understand how hard it is to be a single parent because I’ve worked with so many different families. I’m sorry if I came across as a know-it-all. I guess that was my way of offsetting how much you intimidated me.”

  “You’re smart and compassionate. You’re an amazing caregiver. You put yourself through university with no financial or emotional support. You fucking beat cancer. You’re pretty damn badass.”

  He leans closer, breathing in as if he needs my essence to live. I’m helpless to his advance, grab his waist when he plants his lips on mine. As I sink into the kiss, I slide my hands up and down his back.

  “What do you have back there?” I ask, peering around him, trying to see what he’d tucked into his back pocket as he entered my room.

  “Nothing.”

  “You have a silly little grin on your face,” I say raising an eyebrow. “What were you thinking about?”

  “I was going to save this for—you know what, it doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head, and
reaches into his pocket. “Here.”

  He holds out an envelope that looks similar to the one he gave me which held a spa gift certificate. I pluck it out of his hand, hoping he realizes its curiosity, not greed, fueling my eagerness.

  What could this thoughtful man possibly have for me this time?

  Inside the envelope is a check for more money than I’ve made in all my years of working.

  “What’s this?” I lift my eyes to his quickly, unable to hide the confusion and terror on my face.

  “That should cover your medical bills and student loans, right?” he asks tentatively.

  “I can’t. I—” Tears fill my eyes and I swallow back a sob. “Sylvain, you know I can’t accept this.” Hopping out of bed, I shake my head and shove the check back at him.

  He stands up. “Consider it an advance on your salary.”

  “For the next three years?” I ask, still in disbelief at the gift.

  He shrugs. “Give it whatever title you want, Emma. Advanced salary. Family funds. My early wedding gift to you.”

  Suddenly, I feel light headed. “What are you talking about?” I ask, rubbing my forehead, hoping I don’t faint. “You can’t say things like that. We barely know each other.”

  “We’ve known each other for three years.” He intertwines his fingers with mine. “I’m pretty sure we had the longest build-up to dating in history.”

  I laugh, lowering my head and leaning into him. How did I get this lucky? How did a generous, kind, funny man like Sylvain choose me? Especially after three years butting heads.

  He lifts my chin so we’re gazing into each other’s eyes. His lips slide into that irresistible sexy smile I can’t get enough of. “Look, I’m not trying to scare you, and I’m not talking about marriage right now. I’m just saying the last two weeks have shown me that I see you in my future. When I’m gone, I know my daughter is in the best hands—maybe even better than mine.”

  “Not true,” I chastise him gently.

  “When I’m gone, I can’t wait to get back to you. Being with you has inspired a fire inside—fueling every part of my life. It helps me perform better on the ice. It helps me be a better father. It helps me be a better man.”