Those Three Little Words
: Chapter 4

Let’s be clear about one thing—any woman I take to bed is a willing, consensual partner.

Do I flirt shamelessly to get them there? Of course.

But do I make them go against their own will?

Never.

That’s not how I fucking roll.

I want the woman to want me just as much as I want her.

So the way this evening is going with Penny is excruciating because I sense how this night might end. I’ve crossed a line with flirting with my best friend, my teammate’s sister and for nothing.

She’s too shy.

She’s too levelheaded.

She might be attracted to me, but she’s not going to give in.

Am I disappointed? Absolutely.

But that doesn’t mean I’ll ditch her and replace someone else. I actually like her company. She’s funny. Interesting. When she’s more comfortable, she jokes around, and I like that. She’s just a cool person to hang out with.

Honestly, I’m glad I ran into her. She’s made my birthday enjoyable when usually it’s just a mindless day of me trying to forget I don’t have much family, nor do I have anyone who calls me on my birthday other than my teammates.

“Where is this place?” Penny shivers next to me.

“Just around the corner.” Releasing her hand, I wrap my arm around her shoulder, bringing her in close to keep her warm.

It’s not just cold out. It’s borderline bone-chilling. Hat, gloves, heavy jacket kind of weather. My ankles are cold, so I can’t imagine what she must be feeling right now.

I turn the corner, and the little bakery that I’ve grown very fond of has a neon sign in the window stating they are open. Just in time.

“Right there,” I say, pointing ahead. We pick up our speed, and when we reach the shop, I open the door for her. I like to say this bakery is the best-kept secret in Vancouver. It’s an absolute hole in the wall, a narrow building with a bakery case running the length of the shop, chipped and scuffed black and white tiled floors, and of course, an old man working the front register who has seen his fair share of flour spilled all over the ground.

He glances up from his register, and the smallest of smiles lights up his face.

“Eli, my boy, I was wondering when you were going to come in again.”

Right above the cash register is a framed jersey of mine signed and made out to Robert, the man beaming at me. I gave it to him last year as a seventy-fifth birthday present. It absolutely made his day.

“Hey, Robert,” I say. “Been busy and also trying to cut down on the sweets.” I pat my stomach. “Playoffs are just around the corner, and I need to be in top form.”

“I recall the night you came in for some red velvet cake. The next day, you had one of the best games of the season.” He lifts his chin. “I told everyone it was because you ate my cake.”

“You know, I do believe that was the reason.”

He chuckles. “Look at this guy making an old man feel good about himself.” He turns his attention to Penny. “And who might this be? I’ve never seen you bring a girl in here before. She must be special.”

I pull Penny in even closer and give her shoulder a squeeze. “She is special. Her name is Penny. I’ve known her for a bit now, and she decided to spend my birthday with me.”

“It’s your birthday?” Robert asks. “Well, hot dog. I have just the thing for you.”

He walks to the back of the bakery, disappearing for a few moments.

“I take it you come here a lot from how familiar you are with the owner?” Penny asks.

“I come here probably far too much. He makes these chocolate croissants that are so fucking good that I once wept while eating one.”

“You did not,” she says while poking me and laughing.

“Close to crying. If I was able to tap into my emotions on a deeper level, there would have been tears for sure.”

Just then, Robert comes back to the front holding a cake box. He taps the top of it and slides it across the counter. “French silk pie. It’s my last one.”

“What?” I ask, excited. “You never have any left.”

“Today is your lucky day. Happy Birthday, Eli.” Robert lends out his hand, and I take it, giving it a solid shake.

“Thank you so much,” I say. “How much do I owe you, Robert?” I take out my wallet, and Robert holds up his hand.

“It’s on me. Consider it a birthday present.”

“You know I can’t do that,” I say.

He shakes his hand at me. “With the amount of business you’ve brought me just by talking about my shop, I do owe you this gift. Now take the pie and don’t argue with me.”

I’d never argue with Robert, so instead, I take a fifty out of my wallet and stick it in the tip jar. With a wink to an annoyed older man, I grab the pie. “Thank you, Robert.”

“Anytime.” He glances at Penny. “Be nice to this guy. If he brought you here, you must mean something to him. We think the world of him, and I sure hope you do as well.”

Looking slightly uncomfortable, Penny says, “He’s really great.”

Satisfied, Robert offers us a wave, and I head toward the front door. When I open it for Penny, she says, “Where are we eating this pie?”

“Well, since Robert is closing up, we can eat it out here. He always includes forks so we can dig in.” When she shivers, I secretly smile to myself. “Or we can take it up to my place, which is just across the street.” I point at the modern-looking apartment building directly in front of us.

Her eyes narrow, and she says, “Well, how convenient.”

“For me. Not sure about you. I don’t know where you live, but like I said, after dessert, we part ways. So we can scarf this down right here, and then I’ll be more than happy to replace you a taxi to get you home.”

“You want me to eat a pie while freezing right outside your place?”

“I mean . . . if you want to warm up, you are more than welcome to come to my place and do so. I have a fireplace we can sit next to.”

“Ohhhhh, I’m sure you do,” she says with a giant roll of her eyes before walking away.

“Where are you going?” I ask her.

“To your place. There is no way I’m staying out in the cold any longer. I can barely feel my feet.”

Smiling brightly, I jog up next to her, pie in hand, and wrap my arm around her. “That’s a great idea. Glad you thought of it. And of course, after dessert, I’ll help you get back home.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” she says with a feigned annoyed tone that only makes me smile even larger.

“YOU KNOW, I thought your place was going to be more sterile than this,” Penny says while glancing around my apartment.

“Sterile?” I ask as I flip the switch to my fireplace. It roars to life in a second, offering a faint orange hue to the dim-lit room.

“Well, you know, like a bachelor pad. Neon signs, beer posters, no texture to your design at all, bland. But look, you have candles and a throw pillow and curtains. And look at that.” She points at a picture on the wall. “That’s actual art.”

I laugh. “I grew up living in the attic of a barn. I told myself when I got older, I’d have a place that felt like a home, so I spent time making this place just that, a home.”

She turns around to face me as I rest a blanket along the floor. “You grew up in a barn?”

“Long story,” I say, not wanting to get into any aspects of my childhood. Not many know about my childhood, especially the fans and organization, and that’s how I want it to stay. No pity party for me, especially on my birthday. I set the pie down on the blanket along with two forks. “What can I get you to drink? I have hot chocolate, and I can add a splash of Baileys to it.”

“You have Baileys and hot chocolate?” she asks, stunned.

“Yes, why is that so shocking to you?”

She’s still wearing my jacket, casually walking around my apartment. “I just pictured you as, I don’t know . . . someone who might lean more toward a dark stout or maybe a whiskey than a hot chocolate and Baileys.”

“I’m not the cold man you think I am,” I say while making my way to my open-concept kitchen that looks over the entire main living space of the apartment.

“I don’t think you’re cold,” Penny says while following me. She takes a seat on one of the stools at the island. “I just had a different impression of you is all.”

“Maybe you should start to get to know your players a little better,” I say while I start heating up some milk. “Might help with what you post.”

“And how do you envision me getting to know the players better?” I turn to see that she has one eyebrow raised at me.

I chuckle. “Well, with me, I say an evening here would be the best way. But with the other guys, a solid questionnaire will do.”

“Uh-huh. And why an evening with you?”

“I’m complex. The other guys are superficial. But with me, you really have to dive deep. The more time spent with me, the better. I’m up for an all-nighter if you are.”

She shakes her head with humor. “Wow, you never stop, do you?”

“Stop what?” I ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help you do your job better.”

“Well, aren’t you a benevolent knight in shining armor?”

“I’ve been known to be called that before.” I wink and then grab two mugs from my cabinet . . . and I wait for a reaction . . .

“What on earth are those?” Penny asks. Just as I expected.

I hold the mugs up. “These are my bosom buddies. Taters got them for me one year as a Secret Santa gift.” I flash the mugs of a bare chest, one set of dark nipples, one set of light. Both beautiful. Both doing the job of holding hot liquid. “And before you refuse to drink from a pair of breasts, let it be known that these are the only mugs I have.”

“You know, I take back my comment about your sophisticated side. This”—she waves at the mugs—“this is what I expected from you.”

“Glad I didn’t disappoint,” I say. She shivers and pulls my jacket closer together. “Do you want to borrow a sweatshirt? Maybe some pants? Get yourself warm?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’ll just go sit by the fire if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be right over.”

When she hops off the stool, I watch her walk over to the living room, where she takes a seat on the blanket I laid out. She removes my jacket and rests it across her lap as she scoots even closer to the fire. Her face is lit up by the flames, and I catch her profile—the plush of her lips and the gentle slope of her nose. She’s beautiful. She really is.

Not that I had doubts, but her personality matches her beauty. The joking, the quick wit, the teasing . . . hell, she’s the whole package, something I’ve only discovered as she’s loosened up around me tonight. Perhaps I’ve only concentrated on the surface level with her too. Although, learning more about her tonight has only intensified my attraction to her.

Once I finish up with the hot chocolates, adding a touch of Baileys, but not too much, I take them over to the blanket, where I set them on the coffee table right in front of the fire. I undo my vest and toss it to the side, giving myself more freedom in my movements since I like to get my suits tailored to fit me like a glove.

Reaching out, I hand her a mug, which she reluctantly takes with a shake of her head. “Thank you . . . for these breasts, and for the hot chocolate.”

“You are welcome,” I say while picking up my mug. I rub the nipples of my mug a few times and glance up at her.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“This is all the action I’m getting tonight, so I might as well enjoy it.” I pinch the nipple and let out a ridiculous moan that makes her laugh so loud that I mentally pat myself on the back for pulling that joy from her.

“I absolutely hate you for doing that.”

“Nah, you love it.” I hand her the fork and pop open the bakery box to reveal the pie. Topped in whipped cream and chocolate flakes, the crust is a light-blond cookie crust, and just from the mere sight of it, my mouth waters. “Shit, I’m not sure you’re going to like what you see next.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

I don’t answer. Instead, I dig my fork into the pie, scoop up a ridiculous forkful, and then shove it into my mouth.

Her eyes widen before she laughs. “Aw, you’re about to demolish this pie in front of me, aren’t you?”

“At least half of it,” I say with a full mouth.

“Makes mental note to leave French silk pies around the stadium for you to replace. I’m thinking a hidden camera show. Some pies are real, some are not.”

“That’s just cruel,” I say after I swallow.

Smiling sweetly, she reaches up and swipes at the corner of my mouth. When she pulls away, she shows me a dab of whipped cream on her finger.

Without even thinking about it, I bring her finger to my mouth, where I gently lick off the whipped cream.

Our eyes connect.

The room falls silent.

The air grows stiff.

And before I can stop myself, I suck her finger into my mouth. I tug lightly on it with my lips, keeping my eyes connected to hers and making sure nothing is left on her finger. When I release her, she slowly lowers her hand and then averts her wide eyes while clearing her throat.

I recognize what she’s been trying to mask all night. She wants me. I’ve seen hints of it, but right now, under the orange glow of the fire, I know for damn sure she’s feeling the same way as I am.

So I take my fork, grab a smaller piece, and I lift it to her mouth.

She glances at it, and those gorgeous eyes turn on me, and I feel my stomach bottom out as she opens her mouth and sucks the pie right off the fork, staring at me the entire time.

And I go fucking hard.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I say.

“Like what?” she asks as she leans slightly forward.

“Like the pie isn’t the only thing you want for dessert.” I reach up to the buttons of my shirt and undo the top four, letting some air reach my now heated skin.

“I don’t believe I’m looking at you like that,” she says as she pushes my jacket off her legs. Her legs curl to the side as her dress rides up on her thighs. “Are you going to have another piece?”

I glance up at her, tearing my gaze away from how the fire bounces off the sheen of her smooth legs.

I clear my throat and nod. “Yeah.” I take another bite, but this time, it’s more modest. But there is nothing modest about the way Penny is watching my mouth or the blaze in her eyes when I swallow.

Tempting fate, I stab a forkful of pie for her and lift it to her mouth. She stares at the pie for a moment before she parts her lips. Right before she moves her mouth over the pie, a droplet of whipped cream slips off and lands directly on her chest. We both glance down to replace it resting on the swell of her breast.

Fuck . . .

My mouth waters as I say, “Let me get that for you.” Before I move, I pause briefly to see if she protests. When she doesn’t say anything, just breathes heavier, I know I have the green light. So I reach out and very slowly and very gently swipe my finger across her breast.

Jesus Christ.

Soft. Plump. Delicious.

Her breath hitches.

My cock hardens.

And the distinct swell in my pants causes me to push for more.

I lift my finger between us, offering it to her as a treat, so I can feel her mouth on me, and I can pretend she’s not sucking my finger, but she’s sucking so much more. I hold my breath as we both stare at each other, unwritten promises of pleasure being cast across the thick, lust-filled air. And to my utter fucking delight, she leans forward and takes my finger into her mouth.

She’s gentle at first, just rounding over my finger, letting her tongue do the exploring, and then, when I’m not expecting it, she sucks hard . . . so fucking hard that my eyes start to roll in the back of my head.

Jesus Christ.

When she pulls away, my control slips. The armor I’m wearing is cracking, and anything Pacey has ever said to me about Penny fades in the dark. In my mind, the night went from innocent pie eating to I’m going to fucking spread your legs and eat your pussy in a matter of seconds.

I wet my lips and set the fork down in the pie pan before shoving it to the side.

“Are you done?” she asks.

“You tell me,” I say as I wait.

“I could use another bite.” I reach for the fork, but she stops me. “Off your finger.”

Mother.

Fucker.

And with those three little words, I know my night is about to change. My fantasies will be fulfilled, and I’ll finally get to have a piece of the very delicious Penny Lawes.

I swipe at the pie, grabbing some whipped cream and chocolate, and hold it up to her. After only a moment of hesitation, she gets on her knees and crawls over to me, sitting directly on my lap.

Yes.

Just where I fucking want her.

My hand falls to her backside as she takes my chocolate and whipped cream finger into her mouth.

Her lips float over the length of my finger, pulling me deep into her mouth where her tongue runs along the side, only for her to slowly drag her lips off.

I’m.

Fucking.

Gone.

In the blink of an eye, I roll her to the floor so her back is against the blanket, and I pin her hands to the ground.

“Tell me you want this,” I say, my breath escaping my lungs faster than I expected.

Her eyes search mine. I can see her mind thinking, her brain churning with what to do. Please don’t fucking say no. I’m not sure I can take it.

And just when I think my hopes are about to be crushed, she spreads her legs, allowing me in closer as she says, “I want this. I want this very much.”

That’s all I needed to fucking hear.

I crash my mouth down on hers and finally take what I’ve wanted since I first laid eyes on her.

I take everything.

I take her mouth.

I take her breasts into my hands.

I press my hardened cock to her center.

I swallow her moans.

I fuck her on the blanket in front of the fireplace, and when she’s about to come, when she’s quivering in my arms, I pull out and bring her to my bedroom, where I kiss and lick all the way up her thighs and back down until she’s clawing at me, begging for more. That’s when I give us both a sweet release.

And I’ve never felt anything like it before.

Ever.

It felt like my body was ripping in half as I came, an immense amount of ecstasy spreading through me. This feeling, it was special to her. To being inside Penny.

Together, we pass out on my California king mattress, where she curls into me, and I hold on to her, hoping and praying I can have one more chance at the high she just gave me. A high I feel I’m going to be chasing for the rest of my goddamn life.

Did I skip the details of our night together? Of course I did. Because even though what we did was important—fuck, it rocked my world—it’s what happens after that night that is the most important to the story.

When I wake up the next morning, she’s gone. I’m left with the lasting pleasure still pulsing through my veins and a brief note.

Hornsby,

Happy Birthday, hope it was everything you hoped for. I borrowed a sweatshirt, will return it. Please, whatever you do, please make sure Pacey doesn’t replace out.

Penny

No I’ll call you.

No maybe we can try this again sometime.

Just a plea for my discretion. There is no way in fuck I’ll be telling anyone about what happened . . . ever. And not just because I like Penny and will honor her wishes. The last thing I need is for Pacey to replace out. I made a promise to him, and I broke it. The worst thing about it all, though, is that I’d break that promise all over again.

Over and over.

Until I couldn’t feel my limbs anymore.

Because that’s how much I fucking liked being inside her.

How much I liked being around her.

When I head to my locker the next day, the sweatshirt she borrowed is there, folded . . . and it fucking smells like her. I bring the fabric to my nose several times, taking large whiffs, remembering what it was like to have her in my arms, to hear her moans vibrate through my ears, to watch her crumple with pleasure beneath me.

But that’s when I realize the harsh truth.

Penny Lawes is done with me.

Even though I’m not remotely done with her.