Page 76 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan

“I know…”

“Do you though?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know that I have dreams and hopes and desires just like you do? But I just don’t let them out.”

“That’s not my fault if you don’t let them out. But I know you like art. You wanted to be an artist. That’s why you’ve been painting,” I say.

“And I’ve been loving it. And that’s thanks to you. You reminded me of that. And I’m glad. I want you to come to a gallery with me tomorrow. If you want.”

He stumbles over his words. “I mean, you don’t have to. But I’d like you to.”

“I’ll see,” I say, because I don’t know if he’s asking because he really wants me to, or if he’s just making conversation.

“Do you want?—”

I feel his hands on my shoulders, his breath on me, and I love how warm and hard and real he feels.

“Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”

His eyes meet mine, and his face softens. We both know what he’s asking.

“But I have one condition.” He smiles. “If you say yes and we do this—” I watch him as he plays with his hands. “You can’t leave in the morning. At least not without saying goodbye.” He lifts his lips, and he squeezes my hand. I flinch from guilt, but he takes my expression the wrong way.

“That hurt. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says.

“It didn’t hurt me.” I shake my head quickly. “And that morning, well I didn’t think it would hurt you. I thought you’d be happy that I’d gone and wasn’t asking you to define it. To label it. To tell me what it all meant.”

“We made love. But we didn’t make promises to each other.”

“Exactly. Is that what this is about?”

I press my finger against his lips.

“I don’t want to talk about this again. Not right now. I want to spend the night with you,” I say—because I do.

I grab his face and kiss him—hard, passionately—and open my mouth to his. I feel like I’m home. I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be. And yeah, I love him. And maybe I’m delusional, but I’m ready to throw caution to the wind. I kiss him hard and fast and passionately, and I feel his body shift. I feel his fingerslip down and under my top so that he’s touching my stomach, and I shiver with excitement and passion.

“Let’s go,” I say, and I grab his hand. He stares at me with wide eyes.

“Go where? What’s going on?” he says.

I make a left and take us down the corridor. “You’ll see,” I say.

We go to the first door. I push it open, pull him in, and close it behind us.

“Erica…”

“You once said to me that sometimes you should just go with how you feel. That’s what I’m doing.”

I look around the small storage room we find ourselves in, and I grin when I see a table. I head over to it, stare back at him, bend over, my ass up in the air, and pull my skirt up. He just stares at me.

“I’m here. You can take me if you want me.”

“Erica,” he says as he stalks toward me, lust in his eyes. “What are?—“

“You want to know if I know what I’m doing. If that’s what you’re going to ask me? I do.”