WE GET HOME that night after dinner and then taking Daisy for a late walk, and I’ve never been more in love with my pretty assistant.
She’s so brave. She sang her heart out in that sound booth, just opened up her chest and let everyone see the heart beating behind her ribs, even though she was afraid.
She got back on the ice, like I told her to all those months ago.
“Thank you for coming today,” she says as she kicks her sneakers off.
“Like I’d miss it.” I almost skipped practice to go, racing to the studio as soon as the whistle blew instead. “I’m so proud of you, songbird.”
Her eyelashes flutter, her gaze still on my face. Her lips are so pretty, so lush, and my fingers itch with the urge to trace them. “I love it when you call me that.”
My pulse jumps as something big expands in my chest. The nickname is my way of telling her I love her, I realize. I’ve been doing it for months, long before the reality sank in. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back.
It’s new, and I don’t want to rush her.
A rueful smile twists onto my mouth. “I love calling you that.”
I stare down at Pippa, into her mesmerizing blue-gray eyes. I’m never going to find someone like Pippa Hartley. She’s one in a million, and after what I saw today, she’s finally realizing it.
“There’s something I want to ask you.” I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear.
I’ve been thinking this over since New Year’s Eve, when my feelings for Pippa hit me like a freight train.
“I want to reach out to Erin.” Erin’s devastated expression appears in my head, and guilt weaves through me. “I want to make things right with her. I—” My words cut off as I look down at Pippa, so open and curious. Jesus, I love her. I’d do anything to prevent crushing her like I crushed Erin. “I want to fix things.”
Pippa gives me a sad smile. “You always want to fix things.”
I nod. “This is important. Is it okay with you?”
“Of course.”
I knew she’d be fine with it, but now that we’re whatever we are—together, in a relationship, dating, all these phrases that feel too mild and watered down for what I feel for Pippa—I want to be as open with her as possible.
I press a kiss to her temple, and her eyes fall closed. Her skin is warm and soft, and I brush my lips over her cheek, over the shell of her ear. Her scent is intoxicating, comforting, and fucking arousing.
“We should try something,” I say, because I haven’t touched her properly since New Year’s Eve. I was traveling for games, and then last night, she was practicing her guitar and songs in her room until after midnight.
Her breath catches as I softly nip her earlobe. “What?”
My fingers tangle into her hair and I tilt her head back to look at me. “I want to make you come twice.”
Pippa’s eyes widen, and her lips part as she searches my gaze. “I’ve never—”
“I know.”
“I don’t think I can.”
My eyebrow quirks as smug satisfaction weaves through me. She can. I can make it happen. I know I can.
I’ll do anything to make it happen.
“You say that a lot, but I can’t remember the last time you were right.”
Worry wavers through her gaze. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
I shake my head, because she couldn’t be more wrong. “Pippa, that’s not how this works. Touching you is a goddamn dream. I’d only be disappointed in myself if you didn’t enjoy it. Not in you, baby. Never in you.”
The worry fades from her eyes, leaving only lust and want, and my own need surges.
“Okay,” she whispers, and my mouth falls to hers.
