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"I'm sorry I'm a hotheaded asshole who speaks before he thinks and does dumb shit," I murmur against her ear. "Hurst shouldn't have had a place in our announcement to the world. I know this one won't change the fact that I fucked it up, but I hope it's one you can remember, at least."
"It was perfect, Wes." She curls her arm around my neck, clinging to me. "The first one was all you. I wasn't upset about it. I love every part of you, even the intense, crazy parts that react instead of thinking. I mean, those are the same parts that offered to sign my boobs, and rigged a contest to win a date with me, and pursued me relentlessly. How could I not love those parts of you when they go so hard for the people you love?"
"Fuck," I growl, tipping her head back to kiss her.
She evades me, not finished with what she has to say.
"I know you get heated on the ice, especially when Jackson Hurst is involved.Especiallywhen he says something rude about me. So the first announcement didn't bother me. I know it came from a place of love. But this one is pretty perfect," she whispers. "It's the best parts of you. You may be intense and hotheaded and crazy sometimes, but I never doubt how you feelabout me. How could I when you make sure I know it every single day?"
"I'm crazy about you, angel," I murmur. "Have been since the moment I set eyes on you. You're the reason my heart beats."
"You're my heart." She smiles up at me, shining like the diamond she is. "I'm so happy my dad sent you to me."
Her sweet words send me over the edge. I don't know if her dad had anything to do with us ending up together or not, but she believes it. That's enough for me to believe it too. I drag her toward me, covering her mouth with mine. She sighs softly, turning my cock to steel.
Shit. It looks like I'm going to be breaking another one of Kelsey's rules about skipping events. Because I'm fucking my wife right here, right now. To hell with showing my face at the bar tonight. This is where I'm supposed to be. In this woman's arms, so fucking in love I can't breathe through it.
This is heaven.
Bonus Epilogue
Laney
Ten Years Later
"Would you like a glass of wine while you wait, ma'am?"
I glance up from my phone to see my waiter standing beside the table, trying hard not to look like he thinks I'm wasting my time on a date who isn't going to show. At this point, it's a logical assumption. I've been taking up valuable Valentine's Day table space at the Henley, an upscale restaurant in one of Nashville's hotels, for over an hour, waiting for Weston.
"No, thank you," I say, and then I feel bad about it. The waiter, Brad, is young, probably trying to put himself through school, surviving on tips. To him, I'm probably the pitiful, chubby chick who got stood up by a jerk on Valentine's Day. But he's been incredibly nice to me when a lot of others wouldn't have beenso patient. "Actually, can you bring me a bottle of your best Chianti?"
"Our best?"
"Yes, please."
He eyes me for a minute and then grins. He's handsome, with blue eyes and dark hair. His teeth are freakishly perfect. "Don't tell anyone I told you this, but our best isn't the fifteen-hundred-dollar Castello Di Ama. It's the 2016 Ruffino Ducale. It's to die for, and it's about thirteen hundred dollars less expensive."
"Smooth," I say, impressed that he didn't go big and bring me the more expensive wine. To stay at this hotel, I think a requirement is that you bleed money. The suite I rented for the night was ridiculously expensive. I would be just as happy having dinner at Applebee's and staying at a dang Motel 6, but Wes always says I need to let him spoil me, so I try to let him. It makes him happy. "Bring me a bottle of the Ruffino, please."
It doesn't really matter which bottle he brings since I won't be drinking it. I just found out a few hours ago that I'm pregnant again, and wine is bad for the baby. But Weston likes a good glass. And I like how horny he gets when he drinks it. Which is precisely why we have four kids with another on the way.
My man can't keep his hands off me on a good day. Give him a few glasses of wine and he's fucking me up against the front door as soon as it closes behind us. He gets so greedy. I love every minute of it. Actually, there isn't a time I don't love when he's all over me.
A lot of people say your sex life gets stale after you're together so long. It's been ten years and ours burns just as hot now as it did the first time he made love to me. Better, even. We know exactly how to drive each other crazy. Putting that knowledge to work to make my husband plead for mercy is pretty much my favorite thing to do.
That and love on our babies. They're all growing up so fast! I'm excited we're having another one. Our youngest, Lola, is three. She still wants to snuggle every once in the while, but for the most part, she's happier chasing after her siblings. I miss baby snuggles.
I spot Wes headed my way, and my stomach flutters just like it always has. A ripple goes through the room as everyone else notices him too. Everyone except Brad, anyway. He's got his back to Wes.
"Yes, ma'am," he says, grinning again. "I'll have it right out to you. And if he doesn't show, he's a jackass."
Crap.
"Heis her husband," Wes growls, his gray eyes narrowing on Brad. He looks hot in a gray suit and black tie. Even though he no longer plays, he's a bristling, possessive wall of muscle. That hasn't changed much either. He's still possessive and bossy and hates it when other men look at me.
Surprisingly, Brad doesn't seem all that intimidated or impressed by him. A lot of people recognize him when we're out, and act like he's the Second Coming or something. It annoys him, but I find it kind of amusing. He hasn't played in years, but everyone still wants to relive the glory days with him.
"Ah, he's finally here. You can have a seat, sir," Brad says before looking at me again. "I'll be right out with your wine, ma'am."
