9. Natalie

NATALIE

"You OK?" Luc asks as he drives us to my place. His hand is resting comfortably on my thigh while my hand is repeatedly pinching myself on the forearm. Is this really happening?

"Oh. Um, yeah. I'm just ah…massaging." I smooth my palm over the reddened skin. "Lots of chopping and stirring today. I'm a little stiff."

He gives my leg a gentle squeeze. "Then I'll be sure to massage it once we get to your place."

"I'd love that," I whisper, the heat of his touch searing through my pants and making me so heady I'm glad it's not me behind the wheel or I wouldn't be able to concentrate on the road.

Honestly, despite all the pinching, I still can"t believe this is happening. Luc Bouchard, captain of the Nighthawks, the man I"ve been fantasizing about for years, is actually coming over to my tiny, quirky apartment that's filled with mismatched furniture and way too many potted plants. It"s surreal, and a part of me is afraid I"m going to wake up at any moment and realize it's all a dream.

But it"s not a dream, and as we pull up in front of my building—a charming but slightly worn-down structure with peeling pastel paint and shutters that have seen better days—my nerves start doing the jitterbug. I glance over at Luc, trying to read his expression in the dim glow of the streetlights, and find him watching me with an intensity that sends a fresh wave of butterflies swarming through my stomach.

"After you," he says.

As we walk up the creaky steps to my second-floor apartment, I fumble for my keys—a jingling mess that seems louder in the quiet night. "Gosh, my neighbors probably think I'm an elephant with a tambourine with all the noise I make getting inside," I joke, trying to lighten the mood and mask my nervousness.

He wraps his hand around mine, taking the keys from my grip and smoothly unlocking the door with a deft flick of his wrist. "If anyone dares to suggest that you're anything but utterly graceful, they'll have to answer to me," he says, his tone teasing but protective. His words, coupled with the gentle squeeze of my hand, brings an unplanned smile to my face.

As we step into my apartment, I can feel Luc"s presence behind me like a warm shadow. The moment we're inside, he takes off his jacket and drapes it casually over one of my dining chairs, his movements smooth and assured.

The intimacy of having him in my space, a place that"s distinctly mine with its eccentric decor and heavily used kitchen, makes my heart race. The familiar smells of spices and fresh herbs linger in the air, a testament to my last culinary explosion that I"m now praying he finds charming rather than chaotic.

"I guess I should show you that jersey," I say, my voice a little breathy as I lean up against the front door and just look at this large man standing in the middle of my living area.

Luc grins and pauses his perusal of my space to close the distance between us, caging me against the door. "Is there seriously a jersey?" he asks, his voice low as he dips his mouth so his lips brush against mine as he speaks.

"Uh-huh." My head swims from his nearness, and all I want to do is thread my fingers through the back of his hair and tug that mouth of his closer.

"Does it have my number on it?"

"What exactly is your number again?"

He smirks. "Eighty-nine."

"Hmmm. No. I don't think that's it. I don't recall being your fangirl in any moment prior to this conversation."

"Well, I like the idea of you wearing Nighthawk's colors to bed. You'll have to show it to me after."

"After?"

"Yeah." His grip tightens against my hip, pulling me closer as he presses me up against the door. With one hand sliding under my shirt, Luc guides my body until I'm arched against him, then he roughly claims my mouth. His tongue draws circles around mine in a way that has me turning to a big ole puddle of goo in his arms. He could literally do anything, say anything right now, and all I'd be able to do is mumble and groan in response.

"Bedroom," he growls against my lips, and I nod, grabbing his hand and leading him down the hall.

We stumble into my room, shedding clothes as we go. I hesitate for a split second when I realize I'm not wearing my prettiest underwear—had I known the back and forth arguing between us would lead to this, on this night, I'd have been better prepared. But Luc doesn't seem to mind as he pulls down my panties, revealing me to him for the first time. His eyes widen, and he breathes in sharply before yanking off his boxers, unveiling a long, thick erection that makes my mouth water.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he groans, his voice thick as he lowers himself to his knees and kisses me—everywhere.

I'm a mess of moans and mewls as Luc worships every inch of my body, moving upward until he's nipping at my earlobe, then back down to my breasts, teasing me until I'm squirming against him.

"Luc, please," I pant, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "I need you."

His tongue dances along my collarbone then up my neck, making soft, teasing circles around my pulse point. His warm breath tickles my skin as he whispers, "Do you want it slow or fast, my girl?"

I gasp and shudder. "Both." I grab his hair, pulling him up for a hard kiss as his words send ripples of need through my body. We tumble onto the bed, tangled together, our chests heaving.

With a wicked grin, Luc gets to work, licking and kissing his way down my body until his teeth graze my nipples, sending electric waves of pleasure throughout my body. As I arch into his touch, his fingers slide inside me, filling me in ways that leave me gasping for more.

"You're so wet, Natalie. So warm," he rumbles.

"Luc, I—" I gasp as he simultaneously sucks hard on my nipple and curls his fingers inside me, effectively cutting off any other sound that might have come out of my mouth. "Oh god, yes. Right there."

With his fingers still curled inside me, he uses his thumb to part my folds and find my clit, all three digits moving in a mind-bending rhythm. Stroking, claiming. It feels so good. I'm going cross-eyed.

"That's it, my girl," he purrs. "Let me feel how much you want this."

I can only whimper and tangle my hands in the sheets as he continues to tease me, bringing me to the brink of orgasm before pulling back just enough to make me beg for more.

"Please, Luc. Please."

"Say it," he growls, his hips grinding against my thigh, seeking friction as he continues to torment me with his fingers. "Say you want me inside you and I'll fuck you so good, you"ll never want another man again."

"I—" I pant, my breath coming in shuddering gasps. He hasn't even entered me yet and I'm already on the verge of combusting. "I want you, Luc. I want you inside me. Now."

With a groan, he withdraws his fingers and positions himself at my entrance, using the tip of his cock to tease around my entrance and clit. I'm so on edge that my entire body jolts with the pleasure of the connection alone.

"Luc, please!" I moan, desperate for him to end this delicious torment and just take me already.

"Tell me you're mine, Natalie," he growls, pushing inch by delicious inch inside me.

Mine. The possessiveness in his voice should send my independent, career-driven self running for the hills. But all I can do is grip the sheets tighter and nod my agreement, my hustled moans giving me away.

"I need to hear the words, Natalie," he pants, pulling his thick length out of me, then thrusting back inside with force. He's so big that my walls stretch to the point of discomfort, and I let out a cry. But as his thrusts pick up pace, the pain quickly turns to pleasure.

"Yours, Luc. God, I'm yours!" I cry out as he drives in and out of me with the same force and determination he displays on the ice rink.

"That's it, my girl. Unleash for me." Our eyes lock together in a feverish gaze, Luc's pace quickening as my fingers claw at his back.

"Luc," I gasp when the pressure inside me becomes unbearable. "I"m close..."

"I"ve got you, baby. Let it go, Natalie. Come for me." He slides one hand between our bodies and presses firm circles around my swollen clit. The world dissolves around us as I shatter beneath him.

"Luuuuuuuuuccccccc!" I cry out, the intensity of my release tearing through me like a hurricane. Luc follows suit, his arms trembling as his thrusts become even more frantic, his grip on my hips bruisingly tight as he buries himself deep inside me and roars out his climax. Our bodies slick with perspiration and panting for air, we collapse onto the bed together.

"You..." I trail off, unsure of what to say next. "That was..."

He chuckles and pulls me close. "I agree."

I laugh lightly at his words, rolling to my side and resting my hand on his chest, tracing aimless patterns in his chest hair. "Guess we finally found something we can agree on," I tease.

He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance, but I can see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And here I thought you liked a good argument. It's like foreplay for us, yeah?"

"You may be onto something," I say, tracing a finger down the center of his chest until it skirts along his abdomen. His body twitches and I hear him suck in a breath.

"Give me five minutes and I'm all yours," he says, his voice husky with that post-orgasmic rasp. His eyes are soft and I find myself lost in them.

I lean in, pressing a soft kiss onto his flushed skin. "Take ten," I say, getting out of bed. "I'll go make us something to eat."

Suddenly, Luc reaches out and catches my hand. "Wait, wait. Where"s this Nighthawks jersey?"

I laugh, covering my face with my free hand. "It doesn't have your number on it."

"I don't care. I want you to put it on so I can see you in my team's colors." He grins, stretching his arms up behind his head to get comfortable. "Nothing underneath."

Rolling my eyes, I untangle myself from his hold and pad over to my dresser. I rummage around for a moment before pulling out a worn, oversized Nighthawks jersey.

"Prepare yourself for a touch of disappointment." I hold it up, biting my lip to hide my smile.

Luc"s eyes widen as he takes in the number on the back. "Is that... Emile"s number?"

I nod, laughing at the look of indignation on his face. "Of course it is! Who else would I be supporting on the team? This one was supposed to be his Christmas gift a few years back, but they sent the wrong size. It was way too big for him, so I kept it as a nightshirt and ordered him a new one."

Luc pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can"t have my girl sleeping in a jersey with her brother"s number on it. That"s just... No. I don't care what the reason is. You wear my number or you wear no one's."

I walk back over to the bed, straddling his lap. "Don"t make it weird, Luc. I"ve had this jersey for years. Before Emile even made it to the NHL. Before you were even on the team."

His hands settle on my hips, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on my skin. "So, you"re saying you"ve been a Nighthawks fan for a while?"

I shrug, smiling softly. "I"ve always believed in Emile. I knew he"d make it one day, and the Nighthawks were always his first pick."

Luc"s expression softens, his eyes filled with affection. "You"re an amazing sister, you know that? Emile"s lucky to have you."

I lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "And you"re an amazing boyfriend, even if you do get weirdly jealous of an old jersey."

He grins slowly, and I wonder what I said before it hits me and I gasp. "Oh shit. I didn't mean that."

"Boyfriend?" he asks, pinning me by the hips when I try and scramble to get away. "Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, DuPont?"

"I-I," I stammer, suddenly warm all over. "I didn't…" I stop my struggling and let out a sigh, trapped in his iron hold. "I mean, is that what this is? Or is this just a…"

"Fling?"

My cheeks heat, and that word sends my stomach into an uncomfortable spin. "I guess that makes sense. The vast majority of our interactions have been arguments, after all."

"Arguments? Is that what we"re calling them?" Luc"s eyebrows do a little shimmy, showcasing the subtle humor I"ve grown to appreciate. "I"d prefer the term...passionate exchanges."

"You would," I retort, rolling my eyes, only to be momentarily distracted by the wicked grin now spreading across Luc"s face. "What? What's that about?"

"Nothing. I just think you're gorgeous when you're trying to mask the fact that you're head over heels in love with me."

"Oh, is that so?" I counter, trying and failing to suppress the blush rapidly spreading up my neck. "And what gives you that idea, Mr. Bouchard?"

In answer, Luc simply lifts a hand, tracing a finger down my cheek. "I"ve had plenty of passionate exchanges in my life, but never one that leaves me as turned on as when I"m arguing with you, Natalie."

"That's not love, Luc. It's…It's just lust."

"Is it?" Luc"s arms wrap around me, pulling me closer. "Then why has "lust" led to me showing up at a party—which I hate, by the way—just to spend a few hours with you? Why did "lust" make me scour the internet and then spend hours cooking my very first gumbo just to return your peace offering gesture?" His hand moves up to cradle my face, his thumb tracing over my lips. "And why did "lust" lead me to getting crazy jealous at the idea of that photographer sharing pictures of you? I get jealous every time another man so much as looks at you. Hell, I'm jealous that you've been wearing your brother's number, when it's totally normal to support your family, by the way. But I don't want you wearing any other number but mine. I need the world to know that you belong to me, Natalie. I want to be on that ice and look up into the stands and see you in my jersey, supporting me. That"s not lust, Natalie." He pauses, his eyes intense as they lock onto mine. "That is something far deeper."

I open my mouth to counter his argument, but find that I can"t. His words have left me stunned and breathless, the wheels in my brain spinning helplessly as I try to process the depth of his feelings. "Luc..." I breathe out, my hand instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair.

"What?" he rasps, his pupils dark and blown wide as he looks at me. His hands drop lower, pressing against the small of my back as he rests his forehead to mine. "Are you going to deny it, Natalie? Are you going to deny that there"s more than just lust between us?"

I bite down on my bottom lip, desperately trying to find the right words.

"No," I whisper finally. "I can"t deny it, Luc."

"Then say it. Tell me you're in love with me."

"I..." I start, my voice faltering.

"I'm in love with you, Natalie," he says, his eyes earnest and raw. "I"ve been falling in love with you since that first fight outside your restaurant."

My mouth goes dry, but hearing him say it like that fills me with a relief I didn't realize I was waiting for. "I"m... I"m in love with you too, Luc," I murmur.

The words come out more of a whisper than anything else, but it"s as though I"ve yelled them from the rooftops. The tension in Luc eases, his eyes flashing with satisfaction and something deeper, something warmer. Then, before I can blink, he"s kissing me—a deep, soul-wrenching kiss that"s all tongue and teeth and pent-up passion. His hands are in my hair, mine around his waist, pulling him closer, desperately needing to feel him.

"Say it again," he murmurs against my lips.

"I love you, Luc," I whisper into his mouth. The words tumble out, over and over again, lost in his lips, his touch, his scent.

He pulls his head back from mine and looks at me, his mouth curling into a smirk as he whispers, "That"s more like it."

Before I can respond, his lips are back on mine, and he's flipping me on my back, holding himself over me, that five minutes he needed obviously over...