by Ellis, Aven
Nate drops his arm around me and his head dips toward mine, brushing my lips with another light kiss.
“Mmmm,” I respond, my fingers daring to trail up his right arm, the one with the tattoo sleeve. My body burns again with heat, from feeling Nate’s kiss and his powerful body and drinking in the intoxicating scent of his cologne.
Nate lifts his head back up. “I could get used to this.”
My heart flutters at his words.
“Me too,” I say, tracing the patterns of his tattoo with my fingers.
We sit in silence, and I can’t explain the comfort I feel being in his athletic arms. No words have to be said, it feels right. I don’t even know Nate, but being here with him feels like a place I’ve been looking for, but never believed truly existed.
Until now.
Nate begins playing with my hair, which makes me feel completely relaxed. I melt into him, savoring each second. I’m still tracing my fingers over his elaborate tattoo sleeve and decide to ask him about it.
“Did this hurt?” I say, breaking the silence.
“When they get down near the wrist, it’s painful,” Nate explains. “I did several sessions to get a full-sleeve done.”
“What’s the meaning of yours?” I ask, curious.
“I got it as soon as the season ended. I was in a bad place. I was so angry. I didn’t trust anyone outside my family. Then the Black Bears informed me they were shopping me around, and I felt like my world had cratered.”
My chest draws tight. Nate got this tattoo out of pain, I realize. This is symbolic of the emotional hell he went through, and how deeply he was hurt by the betrayal of Megan, Patrick, and the front office of the Black Bears.
“Obviously I had to start over,” Nate explains, his fingers still trailing through my wavy hair. “And I wanted a reminder of how vulnerable I was and the battle I faced as a result. So the Koi fish swimming upwards represents me being in a struggle, with obstacles I have to face, but that I won’t give up. Just like how Koi have to swim against the current but become stronger because of it.”
Tears sting my eyes. I understand that vulnerable place he’s at, that fear of letting a person get close enough to hurt him again. I swore after Chase I would never go there with a man.
Yet here I am, in the arms of this professional hockey player, thinking Nate might be the one I let inside my protected walls.
Nate might be at the baby step stage. He might never be able to let me truly inside his heart, even if things progress further.
Before I met Nate, I never would have entertained this thought. I would never let a man into my life with that kind of a shaky start—with no guarantees of anything beyond tonight or the next night or the night after.
I glance up at Nate and find his espresso-colored eyes are already studying me.
And as my gaze meets his, I know I’m willing to take this risk, to see where this could go. To see if I could find love. I’d be willing to risk my vulnerable heart again for Nate.
Only Nate.
“What are you thinkin’?” Nate says, putting on a mock Texas drawl.
Oh, if you only knew, Nate Johansson. But instead I laugh, and he laughs with me.
“Oh, I was wondering when you’d be getting your cowboy boots, hat, and throw down with some barbecue brisket,” I tease. Then I lift an eyebrow. “Because I’m sure you had stereotyped all of us Texans into that little package.”
A sheepish expression passes over his handsome face. “Okay, so maybe I thought some of that was true. And no, you’ll never see me in cowboy boots. But I think I do have to try Texas barbecue.”
“Nate, you haven’t tried Texas barbecue yet? What’s wrong with you?”
Nate laughs loudly. “Oh, here we go. You’re discovering my fatal flaws.”
“That’s not flawed. It’s crazy,” I tease.
“Oh, is it?”
“Yes, because Texas smoked brisket is so good,” I declare. “I love the one at Pecan Lodge. And you can get macaroni and cheese with bacon and green chilies, and it’s to die for.”
“Obviously I have a lot to learn about living in Dallas. So it’s a good thing I found myself a local field guide.”
I feel myself beaming from his words. Nate entwines his hand with mine again, and I still can’t believe I’m here, sharing this evening with him.
“What do you have going on tomorrow?” he asks.
“I’m teaching two classes Sunday afternoon,” I say. “What about you?”
“Training at the Demons center in the morning,” Nate says. “Training camp is only two weeks away.”
“Where do you go to camp?”
“This year they’re doing it locally, in Fort Worth, so that the camp can be accessible to fans with open practice and scrimmages,” Nate explains. “We’ll all stay in Fort Worth so we can bond as a team. I know we’ll have group activities, stuff like that, so we can get to know each other off the ice better.”
I nod. “That makes sense.”
“But I don’t have anything on the books for tomorrow night.”
Butterflies shift excitedly in my stomach.
“Hmmm, what a coincidence. Me either.”
“Really?” Nate says, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“Mmm-hmm,” I say, reaching up and touching his face. I love how his facial stubble feels underneath my fingertips.
“So what do you say about barbecue and a movie at my place?”
My heart leaps with joy. We’ve taken another small step with his invitation for a second date.
“Do I get to pick the movie?” I tease.
Nate laughs loudly. “Damn, you are confident, aren’t you?”
I laugh, too. “You like that, remember?”
“Oh, I remember,” he says, his eyes flickering sexily.
“How about we each pick a movie?” I say, trying not to lose my focus from the way he’s looking at me. “We each pick our favorite one, how about that?”
“That’s fair. What’s your movie?”
“I’m opting for Dirty Dancing,” I say.
“What?” Nate says, laughing. “Oh no. I’m not watching Dirty Dancing.”
“Have you even seen it?” I ask, giggling.
“No, and I don’t intend to.”
“Oh, you’re so seeing it now.”
Nate groans. “Just for that I should pick some stupid shoot ‘em up, blow ‘em up guy movie.”
I laugh. “You can. We each get one.”
“Nah, I have something different in mind.”
“What?”
“Come over tomorrow and you’ll find out,” Nate says, lowering his lips to mine with another sweet kiss.
And as his lips brush against mine, I hope we don’t spend much time watching movies tomorrow night.
Because with any luck I’ll be spending my Sunday night making out with Nate Johansson.
Chapter 12
Holding: It’s a penalty to grab another player or his stick — Nate
“That,” Nate says as the credits to Dirty Dancing roll across the huge flat screen he has hanging on his wall, “is possibly the worst movie I’ve seen in my entire life.”
I can’t help but laugh. I knew Nate would say that from the running commentary he had through the entire movie. It’s Sunday night, and I’m in his condo on the 32nd floor of the W Hotel. The skyscrapers of Dallas surround us, as his floor-to-ceiling windows provide a breathtaking view of the city at sunset.
But no view is more spectacular than the one I have from sitting in the crook of Nate’s athletic body. His arm is draped around me, and during the whole movie he’s been playing with my hair, sending shivers of happiness down my spine.
I push myself up from my spot and
shoot him a look. “It’s a great love story,” I declare.
Nate laughs loudly. “It’s a tired, clichéd, predictable love story.”
“So what? It’s still a love story.”
Nate’s brown eyes sparkle at me. “The heroine is named Baby. Seriously, what the fuck is that? Baby?”
“Shut up,” I say, laughing.
“When they make the updated version, they can call her Bae.”
“Nate!”
“And they could dance to ‘Come Get it, Bae’ by Pharrell and Miley.”
“Oh, no.”
“Nobody puts Bae in a corner,” he says, cracking himself up.
I’m trying not to laugh, but when Nate starts singing “Come Get it, Bae” in a horrible falsetto I lose it.
“You can sing the Miley parts,” Nate instructs before jumping right back to singing the song.
So we’re now laughing and singing and cracking ourselves up. I have tears streaming down my face, and by the end I’m laughing so hard I’m doubled over.
Finally we pull it together. I wipe the tears from my eyes, and Nate grins at me.
“I think I know a fatal flaw we both share,” he says.
“Oh?” I say, cocking an eyebrow at him.
“People would look at us and think we’d be out tonight at some trendy restaurant, some hip bar, being a cool part of the Dallas scene. But the truth is we’re both more comfortable throwing down with brisket and making fun of bad movies.”
“Hold on just a second,” I say with mock firmness. “I wholeheartedly agree with you on brisket and watching movies, but Dirty Dancing is not a bad movie.”
“You’re so cute when you’re pretending to be irritated.”
I smile. “You won’t think I’m so cute when I’m irritated for real.”
Nate grins. “Remind me not to irritate you then.”
“So you still haven’t told me your movie,” I say.
“My movie tonight is The Last Samurai.”
I remember this movie from somewhere in my channel-surfing life. “It’s a war movie, isn’t it?”
“It’s so much more than that,” he exclaims, his eyes lighting up.
“Tell me why you love it,” I say, leaning against the back of the sofa cushion and studying him.
“The hero is Captain Nathan Algren. And yes, we share the same first name,” Nate says, grinning at me. “But he’s trying to find his soul after war and dealing with the horrible things he did in the line of duty. So he’s tormented by his past.
“But then an opportunity comes up to train the Japanese army against the Samurai warriors, and he takes it,” he continues. “And it’s when the Samurai capture him that he finds his honor. Redemption. And his true destiny. Through his pain, he transforms. It’s a beautiful movie, the way it’s shot and all, but the message means the most to me.”
I study Nate, and the tears that have gathered in my eyes threaten to fall. I try to blink them away, but Nate notices.
“Kenley? Why are you crying?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
Nate’s hand protectively moves to the side of my face, and I’m filled with warmth the second he touches me.
“You’re the most soulful person I’ve ever met,” I say, my voice thick. “I think you see yourself in this character, too. Finding yourself and your purpose after something horrible has happened.”
His gaze holds steady on my face. “I feel for the first time in months I might be in the right place to find that again,” he says quietly.
My breath catches in my throat. Nate is such a man, a warrior in his own right when he’s on the ice in such a tough, physical sport, or in dealing with all the emotional pain he’s been dealt this past year. Yet he’s not afraid to be gentle like he is with me.
Nate moves in closer, now both of his hands are on my face.
“I’m glad you feel that way,” I whisper to him.
“Me, too,” he whispers back.
Nate lowers his head and presses his lips against mine. Every nerve I have responds to his touch, the now-familiar sensation of his warm lips brushing against mine.
But this time Nate isn’t content with an innocent kiss.
His mouth gently eases mine open. I feel his stubble brush against my skin; I feel his hands sliding up into my hair. I taste the wine we drank earlier on his tongue. Right now he’s exploring me, tasting me, and I’m spinning from his increasingly intensifying kisses.
Now his lips are demanding, his kiss becoming more urgent. His stubble burns against my face, which I love. I’m drinking him in, my hands exploring his hard chest, his wonderfully masculine cologne wrapping around me.
Nate presses against me, a groan escaping his lips. His body is so hard, all muscle, and my pulse burns in response. We sink back into the sofa, with Nate resting on top of me. His kisses are filled with heat, and I match him kiss for kiss. I move my hand to his head, needing to stroke his brown hair with my fingertips. The second I do, he moans, and obviously he likes having his hair touched.
I feel nothing but pure desire run through me knowing this. Nate is still kissing me, one hand on my face, the other down near my waist, his fingertips dancing there, making me crazy with need for him.
He moves his lips to my neck, exploring me there with his tongue. Oh my God. He could take me now if he wanted to. Nate knows how to kiss, how to touch, how to make me feel beyond beautiful from the way he’s with me right now.
“You taste like summer,” Nate murmurs against my neck. “And I love your scent.”
His lips reach my collarbone, and he grazes it lightly with his mouth. Then Nate places his lips back on mine, kissing me softly, going back to exploring me, but not at the same frantic pace he was a few minutes ago.
“I like this kind of holding,” he murmurs. “Way better than a hockey penalty.”
Then he kisses me again, slowly, teasingly, making me want more of his steamy kisses.
I lift his head so I can see his eyes. “You know how to torture me,” I admit.
A huge grin passes over Nate’s face as he holds himself up over me. “Is this a good thing?” he asks sexily, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“An extremely good thing,” I say, smiling at him.
“I love the way you kiss,” Nate says, moving so he’s lying next to me on his sleek, modern sofa. He props himself up on his elbow, the other hand is caressing my face.
I feel a blush sweep over my face. “Yeah?” I ask.
“Okay, of all the things you should be confident in, your kissing ability needs to be at the top of the list.”
Now I feel heat rage in my face. Nate laughs and leans down and kisses the bridge of my nose.
“You’re beautiful when you blush.”
“Stop,” I say, smiling up at him.
“You are.”
I reach up and touch his face. “I love your stubble.”
“Yeah?” Nate says, absently rubbing his jaw. “I was thinking I needed to shave if I’m going to be kissing you like that. Your skin is kind of irritated by it.”
Then he lightly brushes his fingers against the side of my face.
“Don’t you dare shave. Your facial hair is hot.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so?”
“Mmm, yes. Very much so.”
“Then I’ll keep it.”
I know it’s totally stupid, but my heart flutters in happiness because he’s going to keep his facial hair because I like it.
“So I was thinking,” Nate says, moving his hand back down to my waist, “we could save The Last Samurai for another night.”
My nerves jump with excitement. “Is that so?”
His thumb gently rubs back and across my hip. “I think I’d rather b
e kissing you for the rest of the night. If you let me, that is.”
The idea that he’s even asking makes me laugh.
“Oh, not only will I let you, but I want you to,” I say, smiling at him.
“Good,” Nate says, lowering his head to mine. “Because that’s all I can think about right now. Kissing you, Bae.”
I burst out laughing. “Oh no, no. You’re not calling me Bae.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says, flashing me a smile.
I laugh as his lips find mine again. A feeling I’ve never experienced sweeps over me. I feel excited and passionate and comfortable, all at the same time. I happily know this is how I’m going to spend the rest of the night. In Nate’s arms, being kissed by this incredibly soulful and sexy man.
And I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
Ever.
I lose myself in him, this hockey God who just called me Bae, and know I’m falling. But in Nate’s world, this is a baby step. There’s no guarantee of anything past tonight.
I need to be careful.
But my heart tells me differently.
And right now I choose to follow my heart.
Chapter 13
Molded Chocolate: Tempered chocolate that has been poured into a mold and shaped — Kenley
I wake up the next morning in a state of bliss.
I sit up in my bed, absently rubbing my fingertips over my lips, remembering how I kissed Nate so much last night that they went numb in the process. Butterflies shift in my stomach, and I feel happiness radiating through me from the mere thought of being with him again.
I ended up staying at his place for hours last night, and I didn’t leave until after one in the morning. I should be exhausted right now, because it was hard to fall asleep when all I could think of was Nate. Of how we kissed and caressed and talked all night long. Of how we continued to get to know each other better with every touch, every kiss, and the words spoken as we stayed entwined in each other’s arms.