I bit back my smile.
Connor sank to his knees, wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest as he rose to stand again.
“Love you, Hannah Banana,” he said, eyes clenched shut, cheek pressed against the long hair I’d left half down, half braided.
“Love you,” she said, wiggling against his hold. “We’re going down!” She said as the cabin carried us back to earth.
We stepped onto the solid pier a few minutes later, but it didn’t matter.
I still felt like I was walking on clouds.
“Great idea to stop at Pike Place Market,” Connor said as he cleared away the dishes.
We’d spent the rest of the day exploring the pier and then headed to the market to buy fresh produce and seafood for the dinner we’d just consumed.
“I’m glad you liked it,” I said, wiping down the table. “I’ll warn you; it’s the only thing I can cook.”
“I loved it!” Hannah said, slumping slightly in her chair. We’d worn her out proper today.
“Now, baking,” I said. “That I can do.”
Hannah’s eyes lit up. “Like cupcakes?”
“Easy.”
“Brownies?”
“My favorite.”
“With sprinkles?”
I chuckled. “Of course.”
“Can you teach me?”
“Yes.” I smiled. “But, tomorrow.”
She frowned.
“Sorry, Hannah Banana.” I touched her shoulder. “It’s getting late. We’ve had a big day, and we’re all tired. I still have to drive home.”
She sighed. “I wish you could stay here all the time.”
I pressed my lips together to stop myself from saying me too.
“That would be okay with you?” Connor asked Hannah, the words out so fast it was like he couldn’t help himself.
I rose to my feet, spinning to face him with wide eyes.
We hadn’t discussed this beyond the mutual agreement that we both wanted Hannah’s happiness and comfort to come first.
“Yes,” Hannah said with a little sass that showed how much she was like her Uncle. “She’s my best friend!”
I spun back to her and squeezed her. “And you’re mine too, but—”
“And you’re Uncle Connor’s girlfriend,” she cut me off. “We both want you around all the time. Don’t we?” She looked at him like this was the most ridiculous conversation in the world, and I bit back a laugh.
Connor cleared his throat, and I flashed him a look that screamed told you she was sharp as a hawk. The look quickly switched to panic because Hannah had put a label out there we’d never discussed.
“Ivy,” he said. “Would you like to read Hannah a bedtime story?”
My cheeks hurt I smiled so hard. “Only if she wants me to.”
Here we were speaking in code when the five-year old was more direct.
“Yes!” She grabbed my hand and tugged me toward her room. “Uncle Connor can make us pancakes in the morning,” she said as we stomped up the stairs. “He makes the best chocolate chip pancakes…”
I glanced over my shoulder, finding Connor staring up at us from the bottom of the stairs. The grin on his face was pure mischief, a promise that made my spine tingle.
An hour later, I was floating in the air, something warm and strong beneath me.
I jolted awake to find myself cradled against Connor’s chest.
“Ohmygod,” I whispered. “I’m sorry!”
He furrowed his brow, glancing down at me as he walked us into his bedroom. “What are you sorry for?”
“I fell asleep cuddling with Hannah.” I facepalmed myself. After three unicorn stories, she’d asked me to lay with her for a little bit. I couldn’t say no to the puppy-eyes she’d flashed, and the next thing I knew…floating.
He sat me gently on his bed, and suddenly I was very much awake. Something fierce and powerful churned in his eyes, which he trailed slowly over my fully clothed body. The look was intimate enough that I felt naked, exposed, desirable.
“I honestly didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, a strong arm on either side of me, his nose tracing the edge of my neck. “You wouldn’t have been comfortable in that bed all night, though.”
“So you brought me to yours,” I said, breathless. His scent, his warmth, all swirled around me creating a buzzing ache between my thighs.
“I want you here,” he said, almost like it was a confession.
We’d never slept together when Hannah was in the home. With her asleep across the hall…it would mean something.
“Ivy,” he whispered my name, his hand now on my cheek, his eyes locked with mine. “Will you stay with me?”
My heart fluttered in my chest, and for some dumb reason, tears burned my eyes.
“You want me to?” I asked because I needed him to say it twice.
“Yes,” he said, brushing his lips over mine with a feather-light touch, eliciting a gasp from me. “I want you…” He kissed me harder. “In my bed.” Another kiss. “In my home.” Another. “In my life.”
My chest rose and fell from the way his lips worked over mine.
“I want you, Ivy,” he continued. “To be mine.” He gently nudged his legs between my knees, kissing me until my spine hit the mattress. He pulled back, hovering over me, the muscles in his arms rippling.
“Okay,” I whispered, trailing my hands over the center of his broad chest.
A spark flashed in his eyes, and he crushed his lips on mine, parting them with his tongue, flicking the edges of my teeth until I arched against him.
“Say it,” he demanded, lifting up enough so I could tug his shirt over his head. I tossed it to the floor, taking in every glorious inch of his smooth skin. “Say it, Ivy,” he said again, this time more of a plea as he stood and rid himself of his pants and then mine, leaving us in nothing but our underwear.
When he came back to the bed, I locked my ankles around his hips and yanked until I’d flipped our positions, me now straddling him. The fact that he’d yielded to my touch—allowing me to top him—sent warm shivers up my core. I gripped the hem of my shirt, sliding it off and sending it to join his on the floor. His hands were instantly on my lace covered breasts, kneading as his hips rose slightly, enough to show me just how much he wanted me.
I rocked my hips over him, teasing him over his briefs as I moved his hands to the center of my chest.
“I’m yours,” I said, holding his hands there but still rolling myself over him.
He trembled at my words, every inch of his body tight and hard, like a spring ready to burst. Rising up, we were nose to nose, our quickened breaths mingling. Despite the thin fabric barrier separating us, I’d never felt closer to someone in my entire life as he slid his hand into the waves of my hair and kissed me so tenderly I melted against him.
He kissed me like I was precious to him, valued, loved.
He kissed me perfectly, with enough heat and wildness to make me writhe against him.
And I drank him in, his taste, his smoky citrus scent, the way he made me ache in places I’d never known I could ache—body and soul.
Connor shifted enough to reach a hand between us, guiding it over my breasts, and lower, until he teased me over the lace.
“Ivy,” he said my name before nipping at my bottom lip. His fingers slipping beneath the lace. “God, you’re perfect.” He rolled his fingers in my heat, circling that bundle of nerves that made me buck against his hand. Sliding one finger in, then two, I stretched around him, gasping at the way he pulsed his fingers inside me. My entire being focused on the feel of him, the way I was completely at his mercy.
I moved on him, and his eyes never strayed from mine as he watched me, the intensity of his gaze more intimate than I’d ever experienced. And I didn’t dare blink, not as I shamelessly rode his hand, arching and rolling and gasping as he worked me into a frenzy. Shoving me toward the edge until I clenched around him.
On the cusp of explosion, I t
hrew my head back, and the man…moved.
I whimpered from the lack of him as he gripped my hips and spun me on the bed until my back hit the comforter that crumpled around us.
“Connor,” I practically growled.
“Do you trust me?” He asked, moving toward his closet, leaving me pulsing on the bed.
“Not if you don’t get back here,” I snapped.
He returned quickly, a familiar pair of fuzzy handcuffs dangling from fingers that were soaked with me.
A thrill traveled down the center of me.
“Do you trust me?” He asked again, and my heart was pounding so hard I could only nod as he climbed onto the bed. “Say it.”
“Yes,” I whispered, and he flashed me that mischievous grin as he slowly, gently secured me to his bed frame.
“You’re mine, Ivy,” he said, his breath hot against my swollen flesh as lowered himself to peel the lace from my legs. I instinctively reached for him, but my wrists hit the soft barrier, leaving me completely at his mercy.
“Oh God, yes!” I screamed when he unleashed his tongue on me, feasting on me with no gentleness but pure hunger that matched my cravings. His tongue slid between my heat, flattened and flicking and swirling as I bucked against him with thrusts of my hips.
Wild.
Electric.
Explosive.
Every sense heightened to a new degree with the lack of my hands, as if binding me had unlocked some primal portion of my soul that both submitted and awoke only for him.
I lost all coherent thought as he took me beyond the edge, through an orgasm and straight into another, so fast my head swam and spun and bubbles popped under every inch of my skin.
And only when he’d licked my flavor clean did he rise up and slip those briefs off, his beautifully hard cock springing free of its cage.
Limp, my body was limp.
A wolfish smirk shaped the lips that had just devoured me.
“Do you feel submissive or worshiped?” He asked as he pressed his palms against my knees, spreading me as wide as I could possibly go.
“Worshiped,” I said, breathless, my mind traveling back to our conversation all those months ago when he’d assured me there was nothing submissive about allowing yourself to be handcuffed. “You were right,” I continued. “I was having sex with the wrong people. Nothing compares to this. To you.”
“Oh,” he said, smirking. “I’m just getting started. He took his time eyeing me, trailing the length of my body with the look of a man who knew he owned me wholly. It made me come alive with heat and want and love.
He nudged my entrance with the tip of his cock, his eyes on fire as he watched the spot where we joined. A glance at me, and I nodded.
Then he sheathed himself inside me, so deep I moaned without thinking.
But he was there, folding himself over me, kissing me, swallowing the sound like he wanted to drink me in. He pumped harder, both of us struggling to keep our sounds inside so we didn’t wake the sleeping child across the hall.
I yanked against my bonds as I felt him harden more within my walls, and bit his lip to force him to look at me.
“You’re mine, too,” I whispered.
“Completely,” he growled.
And I clenched around him, the throes of my orgasm so intense and strong it drew his from him too. His final thrusts were hard and sweet with a bite of pain that made my eyes roll back in my head. Until he collapsed on top of my breasts, his deliciously sweaty body rock hard above me.
Nothing but the sound of our heated breaths filled the room. He gently cleaned us up, unfastened my handcuffs, and tucked my back against his chest before locking one arm around my hip and the other under my neck, his hand between my breasts.
Sleep claimed me, heavy and blissful and utterly lovely.
Chapter 16
Connor
“If you skate like that tomorrow, Crosby, Boston is going to destroy our defense!” Coach yelled down the hallway as we got off the ice.
“If Davis over here was doing his job, we wouldn’t have an issue!” he snapped back.
Damn.
“Or you could not be fifty shades of hungover,” Lukas added, throwing a grin my way. “See what I did there? I’m getting pop culture down,” he added quietly.
“No, man. Not in this case. Just...no.” The last thing I wanted to think about was Crosby tied up in handcuffs.
Ivy, on the other hand? That had been a sight to behold. Her silky skin spread out on my gray sheets, writhing against the handcuffs, waiting for me to please her, to fill her.
Fuck, I had to simmer those thoughts down or I was going to pop one in the fucking locker room.
There was a quietness in the locker room as we got out of our gear and hit the showers. Tomorrow we would fly to Boston. The day after it was time to go to war. The seven game series. The Stanley Cup Finals.
For a couple of the guys the locker room, it would be the last series they played in a Shark jersey. If I had to guess, Crosby and Davis were both going, but that didn’t matter. Not yet.
All that mattered was keeping my head in the game.
I finished dressing, threw my bag over my shoulder and headed out, walking next to Porter, who was on his phone.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Of course, I care about the team’s image. Yes, I know you take your job seriously.”
I glanced over at his scowling face, and he mouthed, “Langley,” at me.
Ah, yes. Langley Pierce, our head of PR and Porter’s constant pain in the ass. I slapped him on the back. “Good luck!”
He flipped me the middle finger. “I haven’t done shit since I got here. Not one thing,” he growled into the phone. “Hell no, I don’t want to do that. Would you want to do that?”
I walked out into slight drizzle to the flashes of photographers and screaming paparazzi. It was usually busy at this entrance, but since the finals were this close? It was madness.
But, if I took a few seconds now and answered their questions, they were more likely to leave me alone when I was doing things like taking Hannah to the park or kissing Ivy on the pier.
“Connor!” One called out, and I turned, plastering a smile on my face.
Three. I could do three.
“Do you feel prepared to take on the Boston defense?”
“I think they have a solid line that’s definitely going to be tough, but I’m up for the challenge.” One down.
“How have you adjusted to having Hudson Porter as a Shark? It can’t be easy since he comes from Ontario.”
I glanced behind me to see Hudson tilt his head at the pap. He was notorious for not answering questions. He’d rather take a fine than deal with press after games, let alone practice.
“Porter has been nothing but an asset to the Sharks. He’s a terrific defenseman and a consummate professional both on and off the ice.” There’s two.
“Can you answer to the reports that you’re raising your niece? Our sources within the county say that you’re listed as her guardian while awaiting court dates.”
It had only been a matter of time before it came out.
“My niece is off limits.” Fuck the third. I glared at the pap who’d thrown the question out and then left the small area the paps were allowed to wait like vultures.
“Damn, they go after kids, here?” Porter asked as we walked into the parking lot.
“They go after anything that gets them a story. Paparazzi are fucking relentless.” I hit the unlock button on my SUV as my cell phone rang in my pocket.
“Bridgerton,” I answered.
“You’re not going to believe where I found your sister.” The investigator’s voice sounded excited and incredulous all at the same time.
Jessica. Holy shit.
“Where?”
“Your old apartment. Super said she showed up about a week ago. Said he didn’t think anything about it since she had a key, but there has been some pretty shady shit walking in and out of there.”
“Headed there now. Thank you.” I hung up the phone and rested my forehead against the frame of my car. What if she was sober and wanted Hannah? What if she wasn’t and didn’t? Fuck, there was no right answer.
“What do you need?” Porter asked quietly, leaning against my car.
“Someone strong enough to wrestle my sister into rehab.” Sarcasm dripped from my voice.
“Well, that’s illegal, but if you need back up, I’m here.”
I looked at him, debating. I’d only known him for a few months, but he already knew what was going on with Hannah. Hell, he’d installed her damn butterfly lights.
“You mean that?” Because damn, would he come in handy if Jess had any of those drugged-out ass hats hanging around.
“Lead the way.”
We walked into my old building and then waited in awkward silence as the elevator lifted us to my floor.
It was a nice building. Not top of the line, but not exactly the bottom, either. And if Jess was in there, doing what I thought she was, well, that stuff wasn’t done here.
I tried the door handle and then unlocked it with my key. Thank God I hadn’t put it on the market, or this would have been a nasty surprise for my realtor.
“Damn,” Porter commented after a low whistle. “And I thought you kept the place messy.”
Take out containers littered the kitchen counters, and there were piles of trash, clothing, and a couple of sleeping bags in the living room. I couldn’t wait to see what was in the bedrooms.
The drizzle had burned off, and without curtains, sun streamed in through the windows.
“Connor!” Jess laughed, high off her ass as she climbed over two guys in my bedroom. On my bed.
Score one for Ivy picking out a new one.
“Jesus, Jess. What are you doing?” I seethed.
“Living! What does it look like?” She tripped over her bag, and I barely caught her before she could hit the floor. At least she was dressed. Her jeans and shirt hung off her frame—she’d lost weight. God, I hadn’t seen her this bad since her early twenties. Right before she’d gotten pregnant with Hannah.
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