Perfect Love (Perfect Series Book 2)

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Perfect Love (Perfect Series Book 2) Page 18

by Amanda Cowen


  I needed my space. She needed to return to Boston without the burden of my problems. She’s working on an MBA that she needs to focus on completing. I couldn’t let my transgressions become her worry. Quinn was right. I did need to choose me first.

  I’ve been feeling plenty of things. Sorrow. Frustration. Anger. The image of her breaking down in tears when I told her we needed to take a break, for fuck’s sake, is the worst reminder in the world. I told her she didn’t need to be in charge of cleaning up my mess and I wasn’t sure if I could ever get over this hurdle in my life. I couldn’t live with myself knowing she was at Harvard burdened with the responsibility of being my girlfriend. At this rate I’m not sure how I will ever recover.

  ___________

  A few days later, the door opens and I look over expecting to see my counselor.

  Instead it’s Hilton.

  What the hell?

  “Why the fuck, are you here? You don’t give a shit,” I snarl. “If you’re here to reprimand me for my lawyer negotiating with the league to cover my bills and my mortgage for the next three months, you can talk to him. I don’t want to hear it.”

  Hilton doesn’t respond. He walks over to the chair in the corner and sits down. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and his clothes are rumpled. I didn’t invite him here, and he’s the last damn person I want to see right now. How did he even get in here? I need to approve all visitors. The fact he’s here doesn’t sit well with me. I need to be alone.

  “I do give a shit. And of course I vouched for you when your lawyer requested that the league cover your bills while you’re in rehab. You’re my star player, and you needed help.”

  “And help from you always comes with strings attached. So what are you looking for this time, huh? Gratitude? Respect? Me to walk away from Quinn again? Forget it.”

  “Quinn doesn’t know I’m here. She still refuses to speak with me.” His voice is hoarse. I can hear the pain laced in his words. “I’m not here to meddle, threaten, or destroy what you have going on with my daughter. But I think we need to talk.”

  There is nothing Hilton can say that I want to hear, but I remain silent and wait. The quicker he gets out what he has to say, the sooner he’ll be gone.

  “I know I’ve ruined any chance for her to trust me again.” He stops and looks over at me. “When her mother, Anne, was suffering I abandoned her over and over and over again by choosing my career over her and refusing to accept that she needed help. I hid her problems from our family, our friends, and the media. I was in serious denial. I left all the responsibility of my wife’s illness on Quinn. I refused to deal with it because I was so damn angry with my wife. But when it comes to Quinn’s relationship with you, I don’t want her to make the same mistakes, and I don’t want you to push her away or resent her like my wife did with me. Quinn loves you. And she’s not scared to stand by you through this darkness, like I was. It’s my fault her mother’s illness went untreated for so long. I ignored that she was suffering and turning to alcohol to self-medicate her depression. I’m the one who let her suffer in rehab, alone. Somewhere along the line, I started hurting the people closest to me, including Quinn. And I haven’t figured out how to stop.”

  I shake my head. “If you want to stop being a dick, Hilton? Then just do it.”

  “And if you want to do right by my daughter, then accept her love and support and clean up your act to be the man that she deserves.”

  “I want to.”

  His eyes go soft and he briefly closes them. I’ve never seen Hilton show emotion.

  “My daughters are my life. And my wife, Quinn’s mother, Anne, was the love of my life. She was gorgeous, creative, and bold. Just like Quinn. And she looked just like her—loose long brown curls and big emerald-green eyes. That damn cute button nose and lightly freckled cheeks. I loved my wife Brooks. We met when I played in Washington, my first year in the AHL. She was the life of the party. Quinn’s mother could light up her room with her smile. But once Lyndsey was born, my wife’s mental health and addiction skyrocketed. Quinn remembers seeing her mother suffer with an alcohol addiction as a child, but she has no idea how sick her mother really was. And even though I know deep down her mother loved her girls, she ended up choosing her addiction over them. As much as I tried to get her the help she desperately needed, her daughters weren’t enough of a fight for her. I figured if I tried to control my daughters, I could protect them from ever having to live through the pain and agony that I lived through with their mother. But the funny thing is Brooks, by you admitting yourself into this place, you’re a better man than I’ll ever be and a stronger person than her mother ever was. All these years I’ve tried to shield Quinn from all that’s terrible in the world, but what I didn’t realize until now is that Quinn is capable of taking on the good the bad and the ugly all on her own because she’s a strong and independent woman and she loves you. I’ve been the bad guy for trying to control her.”

  “Nah, Hilton. You’re not wrong. She deserves better,” I manage to say it aloud. Instead of just chanting it in my head.

  “She wants you. Don’t you see? This is a chance, a clean break for you to deal with your demons and be the person and talented hockey player you were meant to be.”

  “That will never happen.”

  He wipes away the rest of his tears and stands up. “Yes it will. If you don’t take this seriously and get the proper help you need, you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you were a different man. Don’t you dare let Quinn down like her mother did. Do what she couldn’t. Be there for Quinn. Get Clean. And when you do, Quinn and the ice will be waiting for you.”

  Hilton turns and walks out without another word.

  __________

  Over the last two months, all I’ve done is focus on completing the twelve step program and getting better. As much as I’ve wanted to be sober for myself, knowing Quinn is waiting for me on the other side of those doors has kept me sane and determined. The doctors have finally given me the okay. I’ve been deemed fit to return to the real world—clean and healthy. For the first time in my life, I feel ready to tackle a life without alcohol. And a big part of that reason is Quinn. She is the love of my life.

  Today is the first time I will see her since I was admitted into the program. Three whole months without her has been hellish, but the last thing I wanted was for her to see me struggling and at my worst. I needed her to stay focused on her studies and not worry about my recovery. The timing couldn’t be better because she finished her last exam yesterday and landed in Santa Anna this morning. She texted me an hour ago that she was on her way to pick me up and that she had good news to tell me. I can’t wait to see her beautiful smiling face.

  “Congratulations, Cash.” Trina leans forward and gives me a quick hug. “You did it. I’m really proud of how far you’ve come.”

  “Thanks Trina.” I peer at the entrance. “I’m so ready to get back on the ice next season.”

  “Is Quinn picking you up?” she asks.

  “Yeah.” I picture Quinn’s doe-like emerald eyes and seductive smile, and my heart clenches. “I can’t wait to see her.”

  I just hope she hasn’t moved on…

  Trina bids me farewell and wishes me the best of luck before she leaves the waiting area and walks back into the secured facility. I sit on a nearby sofa and try to wait patiently for Quinn to arrive, but I’m both nervous and as excited as horny school boy to see her. I start pacing around the waiting area, glancing at the entranceway. Every muscle in my body tenses when I finally see Quinn walking toward me. She looks beautiful, and seeing her walk through the automatic door takes my breath away.

  Her face lights up when she spots me.

  I freeze in place watching her run toward me. Chocolate-wavy hair, the same red lips I’ve kissed a thousand times, the same wide emerald eyes. Quinn looks stunning in a light-blue maxi-dress and white sandals that peek from beneath the ruffled hem.

  When she throws her arms aro
und my neck and wraps her legs around my waist, it takes a moment before I release a real breath of air. I bury my face into her neck and inhale her familiar scent. Her tears trigger mine and suddenly we’re both crying. Quinn buries her face against my chest as her whole body shudders in silent sobs. I don’t know who kisses who first. But when our lips lock for the first time in months my heart swells with love.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” Quinn mumbles into my mouth.

  I break our kiss, brushing the backs of my fingers along her arm. It’s soft and smooth, and I love the way goose bumps spread along her skin. “You have no idea, Mittens.”

  She meets my eyes, sizing me up. “You look amazing.”

  “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I growl against her ear. “Please tell me I’m still yours. I don’t need alone time anymore.”

  “Always.” A slow smile curves her lips. “I’ve been going crazy without you. I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you too. I can’t wait to take you home.” I thread my fingers through her hair and tip her head back, forcing her to look at me. “It’s been hell without you.”

  I kiss her. Soft and sweet, no tongue. Just my lips brushing hers, over and over again. Just when I part my lips to invite her tongue, she pulls away.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she says.

  “Thanks, babe.”

  “And to make this day even better, I have the best news.”

  “And what’s that?” Placing my hand on the small of her back, I guide her through the doors and toward her vehicle.

  Quinn digs around in her purse, and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Daniela signed the divorce papers. No questions asked with all of your conditions granted and accepted.”

  She holds the document in her hands, and if I hadn’t seen Daniela’s signature on the dotted line myself, I wouldn’t believe it. But something about the lack of fight in Daniela causes my skin to crawl. It worries me that she’s conceded without kicking back. That’s not Daniela’s style.

  “Why aren’t you happy?” Quinn’s brow furrows. “It’s over. You’re free. We’re able to be together with no messy past.”

  “I am happy,” I assure her. “But I don’t trust Daniela. She’s being too compliant. Too agreeable. It worries me. She’s up to something.”

  “You’re being paranoid.” Quinn drops her hand to her side. “This is the start of a new beginning. The first day of the rest of our lives together, Brooks.”

  My fingers trail down her ribs and over her flat stomach. I meet her eyes, lifting a brow as I run my hands over her thighs. “You’re right. And right now, all I want to do is go home and be with my beautiful girlfriend.”

  “I like the sound of that.” Quinn smiles. “But I’ve got one more surprise.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We’re getting out of here for an entire week. The last thing you need right now is the media banging down your door. We’re going to Thompson. Just me and you. Flight leaves in two hours.”

  “Mittens,” I say, bending to kiss her cheek, “that’s the best surprise ever.”

  “Here.” Quinn places the keys in the palm of my hand. “Let’s get going.”

  A beat of silence passes as we both look down at the keys, and I finally comprehend what she expects me to do with them in my palm. She wants me to get behind the wheel and drive. I reel from the knowledge that she believes I can do this. I can see it in the way her pulse beats wildly in her throat, and the confidence in her eyes.

  “Quinn, you know I can’t—”

  “You can, Cash. This is your fresh start. You can do this. You can get behind the wheel again.”

  I stare down at the keys in my palm and feel a surge of comfort, knowing Quinn believes in me. She is right. I can do this.

  “Okay.” I grin as I open the passenger door for Quinn, and she slides on the leather seat.

  I sit down behind the wheel, straighten up, and stick the key into the ignition. Quinn smiles over at me. Her eyes are bright, her face a bit giddier than usual, but other than that Quinn looks completely at peace.

  I back out of the parking lot, and pull onto the highway toward the airport.

  I’m ready to do this. I’m ready to move forward and never look back.

  Chapter 20

  Quinn

  I wake up the next morning to the feel of unfamiliar sheets and the smell of Cash clinging to my skin. The bed is a disaster. The sheets are pulled from the mattress and twisted around my body; the pillows are on the floor. I’m pleasantly sore, relishing the familiar ache between my legs, and I have no idea where my clothes are. By the time our plane touched down in Newfoundland, we were already an embarrassing display of public affection. We couldn’t keep our hands or mouths off each other. And by the time Cash’s limo driver dropped us off at his home in Thompson, I was practically naked and half-way to an orgasm.

  We made love all night long.

  Over and over again.

  A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s just after nine, and I roll over, push the tangled hair from my face and blink into the dim light. The other side of the bed is empty and bears only the telltale indentation of Cash’s body. I look up at the sound of footsteps to see him walking toward me, smiling and shirtless, carrying a tray with a pot of tea and two tea cups.

  “Morning, Mittens,” he says, setting the tray on the bedside table. The mattress dips as he sits next to me. “How are you feeling? Not too sore are you?” His expression is tender, a playful smile curving the corners of his mouth, and I love having him look at me so intimately. “I wasn’t particularly easy on you last night. It’s been way too long.”

  I yawn, and revel in my weak legs and sore abdomen. “Last night was perfect. I’m sore in all the right places.”

  He scratches his jaw, letting his eyes move over my face before dropping to my chest. “The past three months were really hard. Especially because I wasn’t able to be with you like this. I’m so happy to finally be clean and healthy—away from everything—and ready to start over with you. And of course, you’re amazing tits.”

  I laugh, and he reaches for a tea cup, and hands it to me. “Vanilla Rooibos Tea. You’re favorite.”

  “Nope.” I shake my head, motioning for him to put it back down. I want both hands free. “You’re my favorite.”

  He grins, slowly brushing his hands through the ends of my hair, smoothing it down my spine. I shiver at the emotion in his eyes, how his fingers set off sparks that settle warm and heavy between my thighs. I reach to touch his bare chest, and press my thumb into the groove of his oblique, then down along the flat planes of his stomach and lower. He hisses in a breath when I slip a finger under the waistband of his boxers.

  “Come here.” I taste his lips, sucking on his tongue, swallowing his sounds. I can feel the hard bulge between his legs against the wetness of my sex. I want to feel him all around me. I reach between us to stroke his cock. “Can we make some time for fun before breakfast? I don’t think I’ll be able to focus the rest of the day if you deny me.”

  “Fuck, Quinn,” he whispers, sucking on my jaw.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Do I really have a choice?” He slides his hands over my ass, his hips rocking.

  “You don’t want to feel me?” I nip at his neck.

  “You are a fucking devious girl.”

  I reach down and move my fingers away from his length, and he takes hold of me, rubbing his length over and around my drenched skin. I groan into his neck. And then I guide him there, holding, waiting for him to move my hips. I shift forward, and back again, feeling the subtle give of his body when the head of his cock slides inside. I move deeper, the tiniest bit into him, just until I feel myself stretch around his shaft and I stop, groaning. “Fast,” I say. “Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I expected to feel full from him, but I’m unprepared for how hard, how deep, how amazingly right he feels. I’m dizzy from the feel of him, the se
nsation of his pulse beating all around me, muscles flexing, of his low, hungry sounds in my ear telling me how much he loves me.

  “Fuck,” he grunts, thrusting himself in and out of me. “I don’t…I can’t fuck like this yet. It’s too good. I’ll come fast.”

  I hold my breath, hands gripping his arms so tight it hurts. “It’s okay,” I manage, as he lets out a breath in a gust. “You always hold out so long. I want it to feel so good you can’t last.”

  “You’re so evil,” he hisses.

  I laugh, turning my head to capture his mouth in a kiss. I’m about to come too just from looking down at where he’s buried inside me. He slides all the way out—I revel in how wet I am from him— and he inches his way back in, and then again, and again. And fuck, I’m ruined. Ruined for sex with anyone else, ruined for any other man, because I can’t even imagine being this way with anyone else. Ever.

  “Listen up…” His voice is hoarse, breaths coming out in sharp spikes. “You’re my everything. You are the reason I am here and ready to live fully again.”

  His voice is so faint that I press my ear to his lips to hear what else he might say. But all I can make out in my haze of sensation are broken whispered sentences with words like hard, and skin and I wish I could stay inside you when I come. It’s the last idea that did me in, that made me think about him coming inside me, kissing him until he grew fevered and urgent again and then growing hard with his tensing all around me. My body trembles and explodes into earth- shattering bliss as I moan out his name, clenching all around his cock. He moves harder, holding on to my hip, finding that perfect rhythm that doesn’t jolt the bed frame, doesn’t bounce the wooden headboard into the wall. The pace where he tries to hold on… but it’s a losing battle, and it’s barely been a few minutes.

  “Oh shit, Mittens,” he groans. He pulls out, jerking his cock hard in his fist as I reach between his legs, pressing my fingers on his balls, as he comes all over my breasts.

  We are both breathing heavy, recovering from the electricity and passion between us when I sit up, feeling the sheet slip down my body, the cool air reminding me just how completely naked we are. I give myself no time to think as I crawl over and straddle him, my thighs bracketing his hips. The air in the room seems to condense, and Cash swallows, eyes wide as I lean in and kiss his lips. I bit back a moan at the way he flexes his thighs and rocks his hips upward the tiniest bit. I look down, “I love your arms.” I brush my fingertips along them and down to his elbows.

 

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