Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

Riggs

Well, I just tossed all my cards out there on the table for her to see.

For Clara to know how much she affects me. How deeply I already feel for her when I've only known her a week. I don't understand how I've gone so long without even wanting more than a fuck from a woman to now wanting all of Clara. For her to know that I don't like other men looking at what is mine. I know Gavin isn't even on my level. I am a man; he's a mere boy, and my baby girl wants a man. She wants me.

Thank fuck.

Jesus, how she came apart on my cock is engrained on my soul. Watching her ass turn bright red from my punishment has me harder than a goal pipe and needy as fuck for her. I can't explain it. How crazy she makes me. How possessive I get when I look into her navy-blue doe eyes. I needed her to know she is mine.

All mine.

It's insane, but I can't help but think of a poem my ma had cross-stitched for her and Da's bedroom. I think I still have it packed away somewhere, and I have this need to find it. Not only because I miss my parents but because the poem reminds me of Clara. It was by Robert Burns, and to this day, I still remember the lyrics.

To see her is to love her, And love but her for ever;

For Nature made her what she is. And never made anither.

I don't know why it just came into my head, but it has, and now I can't kick it out. But with the good thoughts come the bad. Did I fuck up? Am I allowing myself to feel so much for someone when I know I shouldn't? When I know I failed once and probably will again? Though, with that thought, did I truly fail, when I gave my life to Peppa and she threw it back in my face? That's a thought I never even considered. For so long, I allowed what Peppa did to ruin me, to hold my failure over my head, but then Clara came barreling into my life like her fool of a dog, and I seem to have forgotten all my past pain and trauma.

It's insane.

It's enlightening.

It's fucking terrifying.

As I stand at the counter, alone, putting the final touches on dinner, lemon shrimp linguine with fresh Caesar salad and garlic bread, I worry I may have jumped the gun. I may have lost control and acted without thought.

Who am I kidding? That's exactly what I did. Because of her.

Clara McDavid.

My little ball of sunshine and pure trouble.

Truth is, she scares the fuck out of me. I don't even know who I am right now. Pining away after a girl who's so much younger than me. Wanting all her time, her smiles, her body. I love how she makes my mind work overtime to keep up with her bratty self. No one has ever tried me the way she does. Usually, people run the other way, but Clara runs right for me—guns ablaze and a challenge in her eyes. She's incredible.

She's mine.

Fuck. The last time I thought that was with Peppa. As much as my insecurities over my past marriage weigh on my soul, I have to remember that Clara isn't Peppa. I always felt like Peppa was hiding something from me. She was, but I didn't know that at the time.

With Clara, I know what she's thinking. I feel it deep within me. Plus, she'll say whatever is on her mind without any hesitation. My baby girl is so damn responsive, too. One touch and she falls apart for me. I adore that about her. It's a hell of a feeling, knowing she wants me. Knowing that I please her, that she enjoys what I give her. I don't have to question it; it's in her eyes.

She's a fucking whirlwind, and I love the feeling of being knocked off my axis with her.

I just fear I'm diving in headfirst because, for the first time, I'm finally feeling something.

Alive. I feel alive.

As I light the candles at the bar, I hear tires on the gravel out front. I smile, and I can't help but think it's crazy how much I've smiled since she came into my life. I hear a door close as I pour two glasses of wine, and then I hear the dogs barking happily. As I put the bottle down, the door opens, and the boys come barreling in, Darcy hot on their heels. I greet my boys, even kissing Darcy, before I look up to find Clara grinning from ear to ear.

She has on the dress she was wearing earlier, her hair is down, framing her heart-shaped face, and her navy eyes gleam with hunger. I lick my lips as I stalk toward her. She reaches for me just as I get to her, and I wrap my arms around her, our lips meeting with so much passion, my heart races. I never had the need to kiss anyone until I met her.

Kissing her is as necessary as breathing.

She runs her tongue along the seam of my lips, and I open gladly for her. Our tongues move together as she tightens her arms around my center, my hands getting lost in the waves of her hair. When I pull away, out of breath, I cup her jaw, running my thumb along her chin. My other hand drifts down, grasping her ass cheek, and she hisses out a breath.

I grin. "Sore?"

"Yes. Some brute reprimanded the hell out of my ass."

My eyes dance with her. "You loved it."

She gives me a wicked little grin. "I did."

I tug on her bottom lip with my finger. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes shine as she nods slowly. "Great."

I kiss her again, and she leans into me. All her sweet, lush curves are flush against me. I nibble on her bottom lip as I rub her bottom. "Dinner is ready."

"Good. I'm hungry."

I roll my eyes as I take her hand in mine, threading our fingers. "Do I need to ask if you ate real food today?"

She gives me a bashful smile. "Define real food?"

"Not a smoothie or an iced coffee."

She ponders that. "I plead the Fifth."

I tap her ass softly, and she squeals before her laughter fills the space. God, I love her laugh. I lead her to the bar, and she sits as I head to the kitchen to get our food. I place two salads down before grabbing the pan of linguine to serve each of us. Her eyes sparkle as she takes everything in, her mouth parting just a bit. "This looks so damn good. Where did you learn to cook?"

"My ma," I say as I go back for the bread. "She was an excellent cook."

She pulls in her. "Was?"

I nod. "Yeah, I lost both my parents at nineteen. Car accident. At least they got to see me play in the NHL before it happened."

Her lips turn down, her beautiful doe eyes filling with tears. "Oh, Riggs. I'm so sorry."

I give her a weak smile. "Thank you. There isn't a day I don't miss them."

"I bet," she says softly, then she reaches for her wine. "To your parents, especially your mom for teaching you to cook so I can eat good food."

My smile widens as I tap my glass to hers. " Slàinte Mhath ."

Her eyes sparkle. "I love when you speak Scottish to me."

I choke on my wine. "I swear," I say, wheezing as I cough, and she giggles. "You're trying to kill me."

"Never," she promises, her lips curving as she flutters those lashes at me. "I'm just telling you the truth."

"Sure. But, baby girl, it's not Scottish. It's Gaelic."

"Yeah, that. It's hot." I chuckle as she digs in. Before I can even take a bite, I'm met with the most erotic moan as she covers her mouth. "Oh my God, Riggs. This is good."

"I'm glad you like it."

"I do. Thank you for cooking for me."

"Thank you for existing."

Silence falls between us, but not an awkward or a tense silence. Rather, a sweet and heartfelt one. Clara's face is so bright, so beautiful, I want to wrap her in my arms and never let her go. I hope she'll stay tonight. Really, I hope she never leaves. I break away from her intense gaze, twirling my fork to get some pasta as she does the same.

A few moments pass before she says, "Can I ask you something?"

I nod slowly as I meet her gaze. "Sure."

She drags a piece of shrimp through the sauce before glancing up at me. A flush fills her luscious cheeks. "Earlier, when you were nailing me to the wall of the bathroom—" I can't help but chuckle, and of course, my little minx waggles her brows at me. "You said you haven't been in a relationship for fourteen years. Why is that?"

My heart stops in my chest as my stomach twists. This is the reason I don't do relationships. It can't only be about the present; of course she wants to know my past. Just as much as I want to know hers. I'm not that great at being vulnerable, and opening up to her will leave me just that.

Exposed.

I clear my throat as I lay down my fork. I lean my elbows on the table as our gazes meet, and her eyes beg me for the truth. I can't lie to her. I can't brush her off. Especially when I don't want to.

"Short answer, I never wanted to."

She gives me a dry look, and then she reaches over, threading her fingers with mine. "You know I want the long version."

I rub my thumb along the spot between her thumb and forefinger. Her skin is soft, inviting, and as I get lost in her eyes, my stomach flips and flops like a fish out of water.

Am I doing this?

Shit. I think I am.

Why, though? How does she do this to me? Make me want to open up and spill my guts to her? Is it her eyes? The way she looks at me like a dog waiting for a bone. How her eyes gleam in such a supportive and sweet way? I don't know, but I can't stop myself from telling her the truth.

"I got married a couple months after my ma and da passed away. I met Peppa when we were in secondary school, fell in love, and while we were young, I had this need to protect her. She, her ma, and her siblings had fled an abusive home, and I wanted nothing more than to be there for her. I loved her. Greatly."

Clara brings her lip between her teeth but then releases it to ask, "She didn't die, did she?"

"No. We got divorced a few years later."

Her brows furrow as she tightens her fingers around mine. "Oh, why?"

"She cheated on me," I admit, and her eyes fill with such pity. I wait for the remorse from telling her my truth, from admitting my downfall, but it doesn't come. "For almost six months before I found out. With a teammate of mine—who was like a brother to me and the one to tell me because he was in love with her and wanted her for himself."

She squeezes my hand again. "Well, she's a cunt, and her loss is my win."

I can't help but smile at her. "It was my fault. I wanted so badly to live my dreams in the NHL. I worked my ass off to get where I was, but I kept getting hurt. Instead of staying home with her, I was always training, always trying to get better and stronger."

Before I can get all the words out, she's shaking her head. "No, it's not your fault. She knew what she was getting into. She knew you way before the NHL, so that's bullshit. Instead of fucking around, if she was lonely, she could have gone to the rink to at least be in the same space as you. There are ways to make things work instead of fucking cheating."

And just like that, the ice around my heart shatters, and it feels as if my heart is beating fully for the first time.

I have to ask, "Has someone cheated on you?"

She scoffs. "I wish a dude would. My sisters would kill him, and then I'd resuscitate him so I could kill him again." I chuckle at that. "No. I'm just a firm believer that if you want to be with someone, you do what you have to do to make it work. Relationships aren't easy, but if you truly love someone, you'll work for it."

My heart is thumping at that. "It's funny, my coach at the time said that the day I got married. Told me that if Peppa was what I wanted, I had to work for her. He told me to honor my parents and love her the way they loved each other. I thought I did. I thought I did everything I could while still training, but it wasn't enough for her. She drained me dry to pay for her family, and then she stepped out on me."

Clara shakes her head. "I'm sorry that happened to you, and it makes sense why you never tried again after her."

I shrug. "No one ever made me want to try."

A sparkle glints in her eyes, and my heart almost comes out of my chest. "Until now?"

Her confidence is intoxicating. It shines just like she does. "Until now," I agree, squeezing her hand.

She stands up then, leaning over the counter, and I meet her halfway until our lips touch. She tastes like lemon and perfection. When she pulls back, she rests her forehead to mine. Her navy gaze holds mine hostage as she says, "I would never do anything like that to you."

"I know."

"And know I won't be flirting to fuck with you anymore. I don't want to trigger anything." She waggles her brows at me. "Though, I do enjoy the punishment."

I scoff, licking my lips as desire courses through me. "You're a brat, through and through. I'm sure I'll have a lot to punish you for."

She feigns shock. "I am not a brat. I'm your good girl."

"Oh, you are, but you're also a brat."

She beams, her eyes full of excitement and sweetness. "But seriously, if at any point this isn't working anymore, we'll talk about it and go from there. Please don't make me pay for her mistakes."

Another huge difference between Peppa and Clara. Peppa never was so forthcoming. Never talked or asked for anything, except money for her family. For such a young woman, my baby girl's maturity is stunning. Or rather, maybe it's not her maturity. Maybe it's just her. Clara knows what she wants. She goes for it, makes it happen. Her business is enough evidence of that, and I am in awe of the woman before me.

Her strength is fucking hot.

I cup her jaw, running my thumb along her bottom lip. "Never."

As I find myself lost in her navy gaze, I can't believe how easy it is to make that promise to her. I haven't been with anyone because of what Peppa did to me, yet here I am, staring into the eyes of a beautiful and dynamic woman, making a promise that shouldn't be so easy to make.

But I know it's a promise I'll never break.