The Final Move

by Victoria Denault

  Later that night we all head to the club at the Palms, which they have reserved for players and families only. It’s a catered event and we chat, laugh, and eat and drink. At nearly midnight I decide we should head home. My mom and dad had relieved Conner’s babysitter hours before and said he could stay in their room tonight, so I was looking forward to alone time with Callie.

  We hold hands as we make our way down the long, luxurious hallway at the Mirage to our suite. She’s holding her shoes in her free hand and I’ve got the keycard in mine. I swing open the door and she kisses me softly as she slips inside. A few minutes later she calls to me from the bathroom. I walk in to find her lying in the enormous round tub brimming with bubbles.

  “Get in.” She smiles and winks at me.

  I strip out of my boxers, the only piece of clothing I still have on, and slip into the tub facing her. The heat of the water stings a little as my cool skin adjusts but it feels delicious once I settle in. She turns and slides over to my end, leaning her back into me. I wrap my arms around her middle, placing my palms gently across her abdomen.

  “Mmm…this trip is heaven,” she says and shifts so her perfect little butt slides across my growing erection. We say nothing for a few long minutes. She runs her hands over my thighs in the warm water and I let my hand slide upward and caress her breasts.

  “You naked in the bubbles is heaven,” I murmur as I kiss the tattoo at the back of her neck.

  As my hands move south, slipping between her spread legs, she grips the sides of the massive porcelain tub and slides herself away from me. She turns in the water so she’s facing me now and then comes back toward me. I move so my back isn’t against the tub anymore and she floats into my lap, wrapping her legs around my waist.

  I run a wet hand over her hair and cup the side of her face as I guide her lips to mine. The kiss is scorching and needy. I could spend my whole life attached to her lips, with her tongue in my mouth, and it wouldn’t be long enough. She presses herself against my cock and bobs up and down against it.

  “Fuck…” I murmur into her neck as I suck the flesh there. “I want to be inside you.”

  “So be inside me,” she whispers back and repositions her legs so she’s kneeling on either side of my thighs. She tilts herself up, her bare breasts breaking free of the water, and I clear the bubbles clinging to her skin so I can wrap my lips around one of her perfect nipples. I feel her reach for my cock under the water and position it at her center before pushing down on it. Suddenly I’m surrounded by her hot, wet heat pressing in on me.

  “You feel so fucking good,” I moan and grip her hips. “But we have to stop.”

  She smiles shyly at me and rotates her hips. My dick twitches in pleasure at the friction.

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” she asks and kisses me softly, tugging on my bottom lip with her teeth.

  “You get pregnant,” I reply and slide my hands to cup her perfect ass.

  She smiles more brightly this time. “We can handle that.”

  “We can,” I agree and stare lovingly into her big brown eyes. “I want to handle that. But we have to break it to my mom that we’re doing this out of wedlock. That should come before the pregnancy. Give her a chance to get used to it.”

  She looks thoughtful for a long moment as her eyes leave my face and stare out the window across from us. Then she looks back at me and smiles. It’s shy, which is a new look for Callie Caplan. She bites her bottom lip as she slightly rises up and pushes back down on my cock. I fight the urge to buck up and meet her. We can’t do this. But, fuck, I want to…

  “Do you not want to get married again?” she asks softly, her eyes closed as she pumps me slowly one more time.

  “I would marry you in a heartbeat if you wanted it,” I reply quickly and honestly. “But I don’t need it. I just need you.”

  She becomes perfectly still. I watch her chest move up and down and her eyelids flutter. “I want it.”

  Holy fuckballs, she did not just say that. I swallow hard as my heart starts to hammer excitedly in my chest. Her big brown eyes open and look up at me. “I mean…why not make it official?”

  “I’d love to,” I say in a whisper. “Are you serious, though? Are you sure? You hate weddings.”

  “I’m fairly certain I’ll like mine.” She smiles and lifts herself up and down on me one more time.

  “You’ll marry me?” I ask again in complete shock.

  “Yes,” she says as she leans forward and kisses me.

  I kiss her back with everything in me and feel tears prick the corners of my eyes. When I pull back, her eyes are swimming too, but she’s giving me a look of mock disdain.

  “Relax, Garrison, this isn’t going to be some romantic sappy affair,” she warns me, blinking back her tears.

  “I don’t care what it is, as long as it happens. And soon,” I reply and kiss her again.

  “Well, I was thinking we do it tomorrow,” Callie says with a grin. “But tonight you have to fuck me. Now.”

  I pull her close and push up into her and she moans.

  Epilogue

  Callie

  I swear to God, if you two do not stop blubbering, I am going to slaughter you both,” I warn them sharply as I stare at their teary faces through the mirror I am currently fixing my hair in.

  “Oh, shut up,” Rosie tells me bluntly, wiping at her eyes to ensure her makeup doesn’t run. “This is a sign of the apocalypse. I’m allowed to cry.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I snark and can’t help but grin. I turn my focus back to my reflection. I have to admit, I get why they might be tearing up. I look fucking awesome.

  The dress they’d helped me pick out was strapless, slightly off-white, with delicate flowers cascading down the front and around the train in chiffon and sparkly beads. There was a sash tied around the middle and I could have had it in any color—I’d picked apple, which is similar to the Barons red and gives the Vera Wang dress a modern pop that is so me.

  We’d announced the whole getting married thing over breakfast. Devin had simply said, “Guys, don’t make plans for tonight. Callie and I are getting married by the pool and we’d like you to be there.”

  Luc had dropped his orange juice on the floor. Jessie and Rosie screamed so loudly security came over to our table to make sure they weren’t being murdered. Jordan choked on his eggs. Cole and Leah clapped. Donna started to cry, which made Conner cry because he thought she was sad. I even saw tears well up in Wyatt’s eyes and he excused himself from the table, which made me want to cry like an idiot.

  When Wyatt came back, he hugged me so hard he lifted me off my feet. And then he almost lifted Devin off his feet. After that the day had been overtaken by my sisters, Donna and Leah, who had traipsed me all over Vegas finding my dress, flowers and a ring for Devin.

  I hadn’t even thought about a ring until they mentioned we had to have them. So I’d picked out a simple, thick platinum band for him and spontaneously engraved numbers on the inside—the geographical coordinates for the barn at his parents’ place. Where this all began so many years ago.

  There is a knock at the door of the room we’re hunkered down in just off the pool area. When Rosie opens it, Donna and Wyatt come rushing in.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Donna gushes. “Oh, Callie.”

  She hugs me tightly. I hug her back. Wyatt clears his throat. “Don’t blubber too much, Donna. You have to do this again in a month.”

  Jessie laughs. Donna lets me go and Wyatt steps forward and hugs me. He pulls back and looks in my eyes. “I always worried about you the most, but I don’t have to anymore.”

  “Oh, Wyatt…” I hug him tightly.

  “It’s Dad to you now, kiddo,” he warns and I start to cry. Full-on waterworks.

  “Makeup!” Jessie yells. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”

  I laugh. “Okay. Okay. I’ll stop…I hope.”

  “We’ll give you girls a minute,” Donna says with a smile. “Devin and Conn
er are outside when you’re ready.”

  My future in-laws disappear back out the door and I turn and stare at my sisters for a long time. We’re all smiling from ear to ear.

  “I knew when Grandma Lily died that these hometown hockey boys would infest both your lives again,” I say, looking from Jessie to Rose and back again. “But somehow I’m the one marrying one of them first? How the hell does that happen?”

  Jessie kisses my cheek. “You’re just lucky, I guess.”

  I laugh, hug them both and then follow them out the door. Devin and Conner are in the hall in matching black suits with red ties that match my sash. They both look amazing. Devin’s hazel-colored eyes fill with tears as he sees me. I jump into his arms.

  “If you cry, I cry and then Con cries and it’s a total mess,” I whisper in his ear, cupping the back of his neck gently. “So suck it up, Garrison.”

  He nods and takes a deep breath. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the world,” he announces in a throaty whisper.

  Conner beams up at me. “You’re really pretty, Callie.”

  “Thank you, little man!” I ruffle his hair. “You look very handsome.”

  “Ready?” Devin asks and his voice is tentative, like he thinks I might have cold feet. Hell, no.

  “Totally,” I say confidently.

  We decided to walk down the aisle together, with Conner. It just seemed right. We were doing this together—to become a family. I would never be Con’s mother—and I would always respect Ashleigh’s place—but he was becoming my stepson. I wanted him to know he was a part of this.

  The ceremony starts off on the perfect note as the pianist plays my musical choice, an instrumental version of “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey. Everyone laughs. An arch of white hydrangeas is set up in front of the waterfall and we follow the white carpet, sprinkled with red rose petals, past the rows of white chairs containing our relatives. Conner skips ahead waving to everyone excitedly. We go with the traditional vows. Everything else I want to say to him has been said or could be said in private.

  Jessie hands me Devin’s ring and Jordan hands Devin mine. My eyes grow wide at the sight of it. I had told him I only wanted a simple band. He got a band but it’s platinum and covered in sparkling princess-cut diamonds all the way around.

  “Sorry.” He shrugs with a smirk, which says he’s not sorry at all. I let him slip it onto my finger and can’t help but gape in awe at how incredibly gorgeous it is. I slip his on his finger and he grins like an idiot.

  “Kiss now, Daddy?” Conner asks loudly.

  Everyone laughs and the minister looks at him and grins. “Yes. Kiss now!”

  Devin kisses me and everyone erupts with cheers.

  We had reserved a private room at Le Cirque for a late dinner. We drink way too much Champagne and eat way too much seafood and steak. Conner falls asleep in my lap as Devin pays the bill.

  We say good-bye to everyone as we get off the elevator on our floor and Devin carries a sleeping Conner into our suite. I follow them into Conner’s bedroom and help Devin change him from his suit into pj’s. He whines and fusses a little bit because he’s overtired. We finally settle him down and tuck him in, and before we’re both done giving him a kiss on his forehead, Conner is passed out again.

  We make our way back through the living room and into our own bedroom. Devin literally attacks me as soon as the door is closed, pulling off his tie and grabbing my face, pressing his mouth to mine in a hot, searing kiss.

  “This was the most perfect night of my life,” I confess softly and pull at the buttons on his shirt, forcing them open.

  “Mine too, Mrs. Garrison.”

  “Caplan-Garrison,” I correct him and he smirks.

  “Of course you’re hyphenating.” He laughs and nips playfully at my neck and he unzips my dress. “Mrs. Caplan-Garrison.”

  “The baby can just be Garrison,” I assure him as my wedding dress slips from my body and pools at my feet on the carpet.

  “The baby…” he repeats and his face lights up. “We should get right on that.”

  “We totally should.” I smile back and let him toss me back onto the bed.

  I kiss him wildly as we remove layer after layer of clothing—bra, thong, his shirt, pants, socks and underwear. When we’re finally naked and he pushes into me, I tip my head back and sigh. He kisses my earlobe and whispers, “I love you so much, Callie. I’ll always love you.”

  He means it. And more important, I believe him.

  “I love you too, Devin,” I assure him with a grin, because I’m not scared anymore.

  About the Author

  Victoria Denault loves long walks on the beach, cinnamon dolce lattes and writing angst-filled romance. She lives in L.A. but grew up in Montreal, which is why she is fluent in English, French and hockey.

  Learn more at:

  VictoriaDenault.com

  Facebook.com/AuthorVictoriaDenault

  Twitter: @BooksbyVictoria

  Also in the Hometown Players series

  One More Shot

  Making a Play

  Want more? Start at the beginning of Victoria Denault’s Hometown Players series with

  One More Shot!

  Prologue

  Jordan

  Five years earlier

  You’re drunk. Again. I told you I’m not talking to you when you’re drunk. Not about this.”

  She doesn’t even look at me. She keeps her eyes on the tabletop she’s wiping down with much more vigor than necessary. I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Callie, I’ve had a few beers. I’m not drunk.”

  “Five. You’ve had five beers. I know because I served them.”

  “Not drunk,” I repeat even though…Yeah, I may be a little drunk.

  She looks up, but not at me. She looks at the group I walked into O’Malley’s with—Luc, my ex-girlfriend Hannah, one of her friends and two girls Luc and I met at the lake today. “Really? If you’re not drunk, then you’re just plain stupid to come in here with your girlfriend and ask me for my sister’s phone number.”

  “Okay, now you’re the one who must be drunk,” I bark back. “Hannah and I haven’t been together since last year.”

  “Then why are you always with her?”

  “She’s dating one of the guys on the Royales now so she’s decided we should be friends.” I roll my eyes and then lean forward and put my hand over hers so she stops the incessant table scrubbing. “Callie, please. Just give me her new number.”

  She pulls her hand away and straightens up, pushing her shoulders back and stepping around the table to stand toe to toe with me. She’s maybe half an inch taller than Jessie, with the same petite build, but Callie has this way of carrying herself when she’s pissed off that makes her seem more intimidating than an MMA wrestler.

  “No.”

  She turns on her heel and storms off. I follow her because I can’t let this go. I haven’t been able to let it go since I got back to Silver Bay last month. And Callie’s right—when I’m sober I can convince myself I’m okay with the way things are. I use the anger in my heart to justify the choices I’ve made. It worked without a hiccup while I was living in Quebec, playing in my first NHL season. But since I’ve been back in Silver Bay for the summer, it’s been harder. I don’t know if it’s because there are so many memories here or because I see her sisters around town or what. But lately, after a few drinks…the anger starts to feel like longing. Longing for her.

  Callie walks over to the server’s station in the corner and starts to tap an order into the screen. I walk over and cover it with my hand. She swats it away and swears under her breath.

  “Do it again and I will punch you.” I know that’s not an idle threat.

  “If you don’t give me her number, I’ll tell the police to raid this place and you’ll get caught working here underage. Poor old Billy will get fined and you might even go to jail.”

  She looks up and levels me with an icy stare. “You’re here
underage too, jackass. And the NHL would just love for you to get busted for underage drinking.”

  Fuck. She’s right. So much for that plan. I go back to my original idea—begging.

  “Please. I just want to know how she’s doing,” When once again my pleas are met with a cold, impassive stare, I grab a pen off the servers’ station and grab Callie’s hand. She tries to pull away but my grip is firm. I flip her hand over and scrawl my number neatly on the skin of her wrist. “If you won’t give me her number, then please just give her mine. Because maybe she wants to know how I’m doing too.”

  “She knows exactly how you’re doing.” Callie tugs her wrist out of my hand. “She’s got the Internet in Arizona, you know.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “There are hockey websites that report more than just stats,” she explains bitterly.

  I feel defensive suddenly—and embarrassed. “She left me, Callie. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Not fuck half of Canada,” she snaps.

  “You? You’re going to judge my sexual history? Really?”

  A flicker of pain ripples over her face, replacing the anger for just a moment and I feel like a sack of shit. Did I really just imply Callie’s a slut? What the fuck is wrong with me? “Callie. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just—”

  “She’s seeing someone else.”

  “She’s what?” The music is pretty loud in here. And there’s a ton of people chattering all around us. I must have misunderstood what Callie just said because it sounded like she said…

  “Jessie is seeing someone,” Callie repeats slowly and clearly.

  Callie turns and marches back to the tables she’s serving. I stand there for what feels like forever, just staring after her. My chest starts to feel tight, like my rib cage has shrunk, and my limbs feel cold, like my blood has stopped circulating. Jessie is seeing someone. Not casually dating again, not hooking up, not thinking about me. She’s seeing someone else. She doesn’t give a fuck if I’m thinking about her or missing her or regretting anything. She’s gone. It’s over.