Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

GRACE

The entire dinner, I can't stop thinking about how amazing the kiss was. The way his body felt pressed against mine. The way his fingers felt cupping my face. And the way he called me honey .

God.

Everything about him is absolutely perfect. How is this man not only single but sitting in front of me? For me? Interested… in me ?

I try to push the thoughts out of my head so I can have a conversation with him, but they won't stay away. They are right there, in the forefront of my mind, refusing to leave.

The conversation flows between us, even with my mind being completely distracted by this man's mouth, hands—every single part of him. Picking up my water glass, I take a drink, trying to cool myself off from the inside out.

"Have you looked at anything you want to do?" Otto asks. "I know you said you left college, but you were going to look at alternatives."

This dreaded question is something I don't want to think about, let alone answer, but it's also the one that I need to do both—think about and answer. Sucking in a breath, I twirl my pasta around on my fork, then lift my gaze to meet his.

"I honestly have no idea," I say with a laugh. "What I thought I wanted, I can't have. And I don't think I ever really wanted it to begin with. And now I'm left… in limbo."

He hums, his gaze searching mine before he lets out a chuckle. "You're young, honey. You got your whole life to figure things out. Have you ever just had a little fun?"

I almost burst out laughing, mainly because him asking me that is downright hilarious. I know he's never just had a little fun. His life is to eat, breathe, and be hockey. There is nothing else for him, especially since he's at the level he is.

Instead of saying nothing about it, I decide to poke a bit of fun at him. "Are you trying to tell me that you've lived? That you've had a little fun?"

His lips curve up into a grin at my question. He leans forward, his smile unwavering as he speaks. And when he does, I realize that this man has everything figured out. He knows who he is, what he loves, and his future.

He's light-years ahead of me, and I don't expect the sadness to wash over me at the thought. But it does.

"Baby," he begins. "I absolutely love playing hockey. It's who I am, and I have a blast doing it. But when I'm not in the rink, working out, or giving lessons, believe me, I know how to have a good time. Plus, when my body is completely fucking worn out, I plan on opening up my own school to teach kids to love the game as much as I do."

"That's really amazing," I whisper, practically choking on my words.

I really do think it's amazing, too. I'm just nowhere near that, and right now, I can't imagine knowing what my future is going to look like in any capacity. Flicking my gaze down to my bowl of pasta, I move it around with my fork and wonder if I've already ruined my life. I'm only nineteen, but I feel hopeless.

"Honey," Otto's voice calls out.

I lift my head and slowly raise my eyes to meet his. He clears his throat before he speaks. "You have time. And if you only find a job you like, then you can also find a hobby you love. It doesn't matter what you do or how it looks, as long as you're happy."

"What if I never find it? What if I always just work a job and never find that thing I love?"

"Then you'll be like most of the world, and that's okay, too. Maybe you pour yourself into your family instead of your career? Maybe you find something that you love that isn't a hobby or a job. Maybe it's baking birthday cakes for your kids or going paddle boarding on the weekends. Who the hell knows what the future holds for any of us?"

Pour into.

I think about that.

My mother and father never did that. They both focused and only cared about their careers and their extracurricular activities… those being other people to have sex with who weren't one another.

My father usually when he was at away games, and in turn, my mother when he was at away games.

"I've never thought about that. So, you're saying to maybe just pick something that is a good job and not necessarily a passion."

Otto shrugs a shoulder, then his gaze connects to mine again, and it's so intense that I have to hold my breath.

"Grace, hear me when I say this," he begins. My back straightens slightly at his tone, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I wait for him to say what is on his mind.

"I'm not telling you a damn thing. You are your own person. You do whatever you want to do, whatever you need to do. If you want my help with any of it, you got it. But I'm not going to tell you anything at all."

I don't know how his words are supposed to make me feel, but they empower me. I'm not quite sure why, but for the first time in my life, I want to do this for me. Whatever this is, I'm not sure, but I want to do it. Yes, for him, but for me as well. I've never in my life felt this excited about the unknown.

OTTO

When dinner started, I wondered if I had fucked things up, or maybe I was too involved with how hot Grace was and didn't really take into account that we might have absolutely nothing to talk about.

Thankfully, that didn't last long, and the conversation got rolling rather quickly.

Now we're heading back to our houses, and I can't deny that I want to take her upstairs to my room and finish tasting her. Every single inch of her. Once I pull the car into my spot, I rest my wrist against the top of the steering wheel before I turn to her.

"I'm not ready for the night to be over," she whispers.

My cock twitches at the implication.

I'm not sure she's thinking along the same lines as I am, though. I feel like she's not someone who just jumps into bed with a guy on the first date. But I could be wrong, and I'd be just fine with that, too, considering I can't seem to get her off my mind and her taste off my tongue.

"I'm going to let you take the lead on what happens next," I murmur.

Because I already know exactly what I want to do. And what I want is to be inside of her. I want to know what she feels like, tastes like, sounds like. I want to hear her little noises right before she comes. And I want to hear her screams when she does finally find her climax.

"Maybe a walk?" she asks.

It's cute. She's cute. So, a walk it is. Opening the driver's door, I unfold from the seat and make my way around the car to open her door for her. Then I hold out my hand and wait for her to stand.

"You can walk in those?" I ask, looking down at her platform shoes.

"I can," Grace murmurs.

Lacing my fingers with hers, I click the button to lock the door behind me. It's dark, but a few light posts line the street. Our hands swing slightly as we begin to move, the sounds of the bugs the only noise around us.

"The stars are pretty," she whispers. I hum, unsure of what to say exactly. This feels awkward.

"That asshole tried contacting you any other way?" I ask, thinking that may be the issue, what is making the talking part of us awkward. The physical isn't so far, but the conversation seems to be stilted between us.

"He hasn't," she says, her fingers squeezing mine.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?" I ask.

There is a moment of silence, and I wonder if she's going to tell me to fuck off, but she doesn't. Instead, she lets out a heavy sigh but doesn't say anything immediately.

"You don't have to tell me," I say.

Suddenly, I feel guilty for asking her. I really don't know how to do this relationship shit, and that's what I want with her. Which is odd as shit, too. So, it's probably me making things awkward more than her.

"There are some things I should tell you," she says. "But I wanted this to be a one-time date. That's what I told myself it would be."

"Grace," I warn.

I don't want this to be a one-time thing, not at fucking all. What I want it to be is an everyday thing. An all-night, every-night thing. Every single fucking night.

She stops in her tracks and turns to face me. Tipping my chin down, I look into her eyes. Lifting my hand, I gently pinch her chin then tilt her head back. I look into her eyes and take her in, all of her.

She's absolutely beautiful, far too much so to be standing here in front of me. She doesn't have her life figured out yet, and I know exactly what I want and the way I want it… except for the love part. I have no clue about that.

"I have to tell you," I say, "before you give me whatever it is you're about to hit me with. You think I have everything figured out, but I don't."

"No?" Grace asks.

Her lips twitch into a smile, and fuck me, I want to kiss her right now. But I don't. Instead, I finish my words.

"No, Grace. I may know what I want professionally, but I have no fucking clue about this stuff."

"This stuff?" Her breath hitches with the two words.

"Relationships. I've never really done it. Never had the time. So, I don't have everything figured out, honey."

Sliding my hand from her chin, I glide my fingers along her jaw and gently guide them around the back of her neck. Then I lower my head and touch my lips to hers. Bringing her closer to me, I wish I could lay her down right here on the sidewalk.

I nibble on her bottom lip before I break the kiss, then lift my head slightly, but I don't move away from her. I keep her close, right where I want her—pressed against me. I can smell her, feel her, sense her.