#cws50 asks

The car ride home was quiet. Not a peaceful, comfortable quiet — but the tense, jaw-clenched kind. William sat in the front with Michael driving. Loren was in the back with Ella. Camilla and Alex were in a separate car. Everyone was stiff and silent. The only sound came from the occasional throat clear or clipped attempt at small talk that fizzled just as fast.

Loren had tried to mentally prepare for this moment — the playoff heartbreak, the weight of disappointment — but nothing hit quite like being in that car, amidst the thick air of another exit that felt far too early.

She’d felt strongly that William should have some space once he wrapped up the season and headed to Sweden. She felt it was best for him to unwind with family and friends first — play golf, hang out, visit family.

William appreciated where she was coming from but he had wanted some time alone with her too.

When they got back to his place, Pablo and Banksy were waiting like his own personal therapists on four legs. William barely got through the front door before scooping Pablo up and burying his face in the dog’s neck. “You’re such a good boy,” he whispered, his voice thick. He knelt to hug Banksy next, murmuring something only the dog seemed to understand.

Pablo made a beeline for Loren, tail wagging. Banksy followed close behind. The tension in the room shifted — not gone, but softened — and nobody rushed to rehash the game. Not yet.

Loren kissed William on the cheek and said she was going to change. She didn’t want to hover. Sometimes she felt he needed time with his family without her and she gave him that space when she could. And honestly? She needed a moment herself. That game had been brutal.

A few minutes later, he came into the bedroom. Quiet. Exhausted. Still gorgeous but looking rumpled in his suit. She smiled softly as he walked toward her, his whole body heavy. She wrapped her arms around him, and after a second, he melted into her.

Neither of them said it — I’m sorry about the game - about how the series went — because what would that fix? He knew what happened. What had to be faced in the coming days.

She assumed he’d want to take the dogs for a walk alone, maybe use it to clear his head. But instead, he surprised her.

“Come with me?”

She looked up. “I thought you’d want to be alone.”

“I might need you for security,” he said, voice flat. “Could flash angry fans with your tits while I hide behind a tree or something.”

She snorted. “Oh yeah. Classy.”

But she grabbed her jacket.

They took a quieter route, hoping to blend in, though William and his dogs were far from inconspicuous. Still, no one bothered them. They walked in silence for a while — the good kind this time. The kind that always existed between them. Loren loved that about him. They could shut the hell up around each other and never feel weird about it.

Eventually, he reached for her hand. She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. No words needed. She was here. Whatever he needed.

They talked a little about the whirlwind already brewing — locker cleanout, press conferences, speculation. Another season ending with more questions than answers.

“I can’t believe it went that fast,” he said.

She glanced at him. “I was so proud of you.”

He nodded, his eyes still fixed ahead. “Thanks for everything this year. The driving. The scheduling. Putting up with me when I was an asshole.”

She laughed quietly. “Yeah - you really are a fucking grump sometimes, y’know?”

He nudged her hip gently with his. “And Alex? He’s spoiled now. That’s on you.”

As they neared the building again, his pace slowed. She watched him out of the corner of her eye.

“So…I was thinking. What’s your cottage like?” he asked casually. “The one you’ve invited everyone to except me.”

She grinned. “You don’t strike me as a shit-in-the-woods kind of guy.”

He looked at her quizzically.

Loren smiled. “You have to do your business in an outhouse. It’s actually a very nice outhouse,” she said, trying not to laugh.

“I can deal with an outhouse.” William paused. “Are there bears?”

“There can be bears.”

“Hydro?”

“Most of the time.”

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “You think I’d survive it?”

“Best chance is you’d survive with me.”

A beat passed.

“Are you really thinking you want to go up there?” she asked.

He gave a small nod. “I need to get the fuck out of the city. Just me, you, the dogs.”

Loren raised a brow. “So I’m only getting the invite because I have the keys?”

He smiled — really smiled — for the first time that night.

“Obviously.”

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They left Toronto first thing Monday morning.

It was early. Too early for traffic, too early for texts, too early for anyone to care about where William Nylander was going.

Which was exactly the point.

He wasn’t running away, not really. But the thought of the impending exit interviews, hearing more takes from the media, even facing his own family — it all felt like a weight pressing into his chest. He needed air. He needed to feel like time was suspended, even for only a short time.

Loren was still surprised with him asking to go to her family cottage — stunned, really. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him there. She just never imagined he’d want to be there. But he said it with such simple clarity — “Just you, me, and the dogs” — that she didn’t question it. She just started packing.

They planned for a quick trip — out first thing Monday morning, back first thing Tuesday. Just long enough to breathe.

William was asleep for most of the first hour and a half, slouched in the passenger seat with his hoodie pulled low. The dogs were knocked out in the back. Loren drove, the highway stretching ahead in soft, winding curves as they slipped deeper into cottage country.

They stopped once — all three males needing to piss on a dirt sideroad — and then kept going, passing rock walls, pine forests and still lakes that looked as cold as they probably felt.

Loren kept her expectations low for him. She warned him five different times that her cottage was not some tricked-out lakeside mansion like JT’s or Mitch’s. She joked that even Mitch’s boathouse was nicer than her whole place. William just smirked.

Eventually, she turned down a hilly, twisty backroad and rolled down the windows slightly. Banksy and Pablo stuck their noses out to sniff the air. Loren glanced at William.

“Do you wanna stick your head out too?” she teased, giggling when he tickled her knee in retaliation.

She’d be paying for that later. She already knew.

They pulled into the marina, loaded their bags and groceries onto Loren’s gleaming black pontoon boat, and set off across the lake. The further they got from land, the more William could feel the tension leaving his body.

Loren looked unreasonably hot driving the boat, even bundled up in layers. She rocked a windbreaker with sunglasses and her hair pulled back, she looked every bit the boss she was — steering through the buoys that marked rocks that would doom a boat's bow on impact. He watched her from the seat across from her, both dogs huddled beside him, and just loved who he was looking at.

She docked the boat flawlessly. She opened up the front of the boat and both dogs bolted out and up onto a massive deck built on stilts which hovered just above the water line.

As he looked around, William felt something loosen in his neck and chest that hadn’t budged in days.

When Loren stepped onto the dock, she stopped trying to lower his expectations. The moment he saw the place, she couldn’t hide how much it meant to her.

He kissed her on the dock — slow, grateful — and she could already see a bit of light returning to his eyes. She hauled the groceries up the long flight of stairs, with William carrying their other bags behind her.

Fuck, these stairs are worse than his normal cardio he thought.

Loren unpacked enough food for a small army and he watched her move about the tiny kitchen. She offered him something to eat but William wasn’t in a rush— at least not for food, anyway. He had other cravings. And now, with no one around for miles? They didn’t have to hold back.

Before he got his hands on her she tried to give him the “grand tour” which took all of five minutes — three rooms, a pseudo bathroom with a shower that an adult could barely fit into, and a porch with an incredible view.

Loren was still rambling about how it wasn’t much, just the essentials, barely enough hot water if they both wanted showers, yada yada…

William was barely listening.

She was standing in front of him with cold-flushed cheeks and her windbreaker half unzipped. The lake was behind her, grey and glassy. The dogs were already curled up in the living room. And for the first time in what felt like forever, no one needed anything from him.

No cameras.

No coaches.

No fucking press conferences.

Just her.

She turned to set a basket of extra linens on the bed, and he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in close.

“You know,” he murmured into her neck, “for a place that’s supposed to be ‘not much’… I already kind of love it.”

Loren turned her head to the side, smiling. “You’re just saying that because you’re literally stuck here….with no way off other than that boat.”

“No,” he said, kissing just below her ear. “That’s a bonus. But this? This is all I need right now.”

His voice was low, rough. Exhaustion still shrouded him, but so did something else — a need to connect. Not in the usual way, not even in the way they sometimes used sex as a pressure relief valve. This was different.

He needed to feel her.

Loren turned in his arms and really looked at him — looked into his eyes. She saw flashes of all the highs and lows of the past few weeks. But she saw something else. The need for something human - something that only she could give him where nothing depended on whether he blocked a shot or forechecked hard enough.

She didn’t say anything. Just kissed him.

And that kiss… wasn’t rushed. It was long. It lingered as her thumb stroked his perfect playoff beard. She waited all season for him to rock that beard. She kissed it knowing it would eventually be gone, like a ritual shedding of the playoff loss itself.

His hands moved beneath her sweater, fingertips gliding along her sides. Hers slid up the back of his hoodie, tugging it upward until he let her pull it off entirely. Her sweater followed, then her bra. Neither of them said a word. It didn’t feel necessary.

They slid under the sheets, beneath the blankets and the heavy quilt, and he was quick to find his place between her legs. He hovered over her for a moment — just looking at her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, brushing his knuckles across her cheek, then down the slope of her throat. “I don’t think I’ve told you that enough lately.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” she murmured, soft and teasing. “Totally got my ass in a twist about you not falling to your knees and telling me that every single second.”

He chuckled…that signature laugh of his — and the sound made her heart swell. She pulled him down, catching his mouth in another kiss.

There was nothing wild or crazy about what came next. Just slow touches, the kind that allowed two people to really feel each other’s full presence.

His mouth moved down her neck, his lips and his beard already creating that magical ache between her legs. His open-mouthed kisses which he lavished her nipples with only furthered that ache - the urge for him to slide inside of her and stay there, possibly for forever. She arched her back as he kissed, tongued and kneaded each breast while her hands smoothed over his back and her mouth kissed along his forehead. She whispered his name, threading her fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against her skin.

He kissed his way lower — she giggled and sighed as he kissed her pussy through her panties, soon removing them while kissing across her lower abdomen. There was no rushing. No feeling of pressure - only the blissful kind that comes from heightening arousal.

Loren was already wet —truth be told she had envisioned this moment since he asked to come up. Like her body had been waiting for this all season: the quiet, the time, the way he looked at her like she would forever be in his future.

He moved between her thighs, kissing her like she was the only thing that mattered — slow, deep strokes of his tongue, eyes locked on hers when he could.

She teased that he couldn’t have all the fun, so she changed positions - her on top, him still having full oral access to her pussy while she sucked his cock in the most sensually sinful way.

Although the heat was certainly rising between them, the still-cool air throughout the cottage won out, both retreating quickly back under the heavy covers.

They both snuggled as close as they could get, like two horny teenagers - their kiss was the kind that lit up the deepest need in each other.

He rolled her onto her back and she spread her legs, feeling every inch of his hardness pressing against her slit. She bit her lip as her hips rocked against him, her hands splayed across his round, bare ass.

They whispered their “I love yous,” smiling and giggling between kisses — some sensual and slow, others a chaotic barrage of smooches.

Loren soon gave him a look — like, ‘What are you waiting for, Mr. Perfect?’ — and wiggled her body in excited anticipation for his cock. She was so fucking ready.

When he entered her, it was smooth and slow. He watched her eyes soften and almost cross as her lids closed. The vein in her neck protruded and he was quick to plunge his mouth into the crook just above her shoulder. His beard tickled but it was such a heavenly feeling, his lips kissing up her neck while he thrust deeply into her.

He was close from the beginning. So was she. But one thing they never did when they had all the time in the world was chase an orgasm. They just enjoyed each other so much, their bodies moving together, eyes connected, full of meaning and lusciously dirty sounds.

Loren whispered his name again - awe would wash over her from time to time and she sometimes just had to say it to make sure he was real.

He kissed her forehead. Her cheek. The corner of her mouth.

“I needed this,” he said. “So much.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Me too.”

When they finally came — her first, then him just seconds after — it wasn’t loud. It was quiet and shuddering, like something tender unraveling between them.

He stayed inside her for a long while after, their bodies fully satiated beneath the weight of the quilt, hands exploring each other in slow, contented strokes.

I love that you wanted to come up here,” she murmured. “You just need to conquer using the shitter and you’ll be a certified woodsman.”

William nuzzled her neck and smiled. “You might need to stand guard outside. Y’know — just in case I fall in or something.”

“William — with that big badonkadonk dump truck you’ve got,” Loren giggled, giving his ass cheek a squeeze, “you have nothing to worry about.”

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Loren had drifted off in her usual post-orgasm way — flushed and breathing against his chest. One leg thrown over his thigh. One hand twitched loosely against his ribs.

William stayed awake.

Not in the restless way he sometimes did after road games or long stretches of adrenaline. This was different. His body was relaxed. His mind — for once — was quiet.

He looked around the bedroom.

It was small. Wood-panelled. The kind of room that hadn’t been updated much since the ‘80s or ‘90s — but it didn’t need to be. It was pure cottage chic. There were framed photos scattered everywhere. Signs of a family’s life built slowly over summers. A younger version of Loren in almost every one.

Her as a toddler in water wings and a neon-pink bikini, sitting on a warped dock, eating corn on the cob with melted butter smeared all over her cheeks.

Her in an oversized T-shirt, knee-deep in lake water, holding up a rock bass with a look of pure pride.

Her on her dad’s shoulders, both of them in matching baseball caps, their skin sunburnt and smiling.

He kept looking. At the girl she was. At the woman lying beside him now.

A love story between a cottage and a girl — one that quietly led her into the woman she’s become.

He turned back toward her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. He kissed her bare shoulder. She smiled sleepily but didn’t open her eyes — just rolled in closer and tugged the quilt higher around them both.

His gaze wandered back to a photo on the far wall. Loren and her dad again — this time sitting side by side in the their aluminum fishing boat. He was teaching her how to drive the boat - she couldn’t have been more than five or six. She was wearing sunglasses and bright orange socks with sandals, grinning like she owned the world.

He swallowed.

Quietly, like he wasn’t even sure the words should be said aloud, he asked,

“Do you ever think about having kids with me?”

Loren blinked her eyes open slowly. Not startled — just… surprised.

She looked at him for a long second.

Then, without a trace of irony, she said,

“I want nothing more than to be waddling along, eight months pregnant, with little Willy Junior holding one hand—”

William grinned.

“—and whoever comes next holding the other—”

“Wait, there’s already a second one? And a third on the way?” he teased.

She smirked. “Oh, you think I’m stopping there?”

He laughed, kissed her, and let her continue.

“Both of them holding my hands, watching their dad at morning skate. Or pressed up against the glass at a home game. I think about it all the time.” She paused, her voice a little softer now. “I think about what kind of dad you’d be. I somehow think I’ll be the bad cop between us two.”

He couldn’t speak for a moment.

So instead, he slid down under the covers and pressed his mouth to her stomach — soft, reverent kisses across her belly. His voice muffled slightly against her skin.

“That sounds about perfect. I’m fine with being the good guy.”

Loren smiled, running her fingers through his hair. “Oh yeah. I can imagine it now. You guys will all gang up on me - poor old Mommy’s gone to the insane asylum,” she feigned pouting. “Wait - is it perfect just because you like the idea of getting me pregnant again and again.”

He nipped at her side, making her yelp.

“I love the idea,” he said, lifting his head. “So…yeah… I’m game.”

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They watched one of Loren’s favourite ‘80s movies — still on VHS tapes. William shook his head as she hunkered down under the blanket, beaming with excitement to watch Beverly Hills Cop.

The rest of the day unfolded like time had slowed down just for them.

They snacked. They dozed. They went for a short hike and followed the shoreline back to the cottage.

Then came the dare — a naked cold plunge, since the lake was all but deserted. William, ever smug, managed just over three minutes. Loren lasted just under two before scrambling up the ladder, wrapping herself in a giant towel, shivering uncontrollably.

She watched William tread water, controlling his breathing and she playfully scolded him for putting “Cowboy Bill” through that kind of trauma.

He offered her the chance to warm him up — which she gladly accepted.

After dinner, they bundled themselves in layers — fleece-lined everything — to take the pontoon boat back out for a sunset cruise.

The sky was still bright, the lake like glass, but the temperature had dropped even further over the past few hours. It wasn’t long before William started grumbling about the cold — though secretly, he was enjoying the stillness… and watching Loren play tour guide.

After listening to him whine a little more, Loren brought them back to the cottage. A bottle of wine was opened — and somehow, very quickly, polished off.

There was an attempt at strip Uno, which turned out to be a disaster from the jump. Neither of them could remember if the reverse card meant you put clothes back on… or took more off.

William cheated.

Loren caught him.

They both ended up topless anyway.

By 10 p.m., they were in bed — very much not asleep — making the old bed frame creak like it was one good thrust away from snapping in half. They passed out by eleven, tangled under a quilt that smelled like wood smoke, both completely spent.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Morning came too fast.

Loren made coffee and French toast and the best damn turkey sausages William had ever tasted. She teased him when he went back for seconds. He kissed her neck and said something about marrying her if she kept feeding him like this.

She rolled her eyes — but her cheeks flushed anyway.

Leaving day always sucked. Loren had warned him about it the night before, how it felt like the hours stretched while you were here… but snapped back to reality the minute you started packing. He felt it too.

While Loren jumped in the shower, William stayed in the living room with the dogs, a mug of coffee balanced on his knee, half-watching the Golf Channel on low volume.

His gaze drifted to the low bookshelf near the fireplace — stacked with photo albums, their spines cracked and faded from years of flipping.

He grabbed one at random and started flipping through it absently. Summer after summer of lake days, backyard birthdays, dogs long since passed, and winters with snow up to the windows.

And then he saw it.

Loren’s mom, very pregnant. Standing on the dock out front. Strands of her long hair being lifted by the wind. One hand cradling her belly. Laughing like someone just said something really stupid and really sweet at the same time.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the photo.

It looked so much like Loren.

If he ever needed a glimpse of what their future might look like — what she might look like carrying their baby — this was it. A living preview. And he wanted it so badly, it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

He reached for his phone and snapped a quick photo just to keep for himself.

The last 24 hours had been exactly what he needed. Exit interviews awaited him as soon as he was back in the city. But Loren — the calm she surrounded him with — helped quiet his mind.

But now — with that picture — it felt like a peek into all the tomorrows.

It almost made him giggle listening to her speak so animatedly with her mother. He could still only pick out a few words here and there - her rapid diction made his head spin.

He could pick out his name. Hearing Loren’s velvet voice saying “Will-i-yum”.

“Floride.” He knew she was talking about playing against Florida the previous night.

He pieced together “Samedi” and “Blue Jackets” so she was definitely talking about his schedule.

He’d hear her stop moving in the kitchen. The soft close of a cabinet door was the only sound as Loren listened to her mother through her earbuds.

He heard her softly say a series of “okay’s” mixed with “d’accord” - then signing off with a small kiss blown towards the screen and a “je t’aime, maman.”

He waited for her to reappear in the doorway, listening for the shift in her footsteps—some sign she’d left the spot where she stood. But she didn’t.

He groaned a little as he got up off the floor, hobbling a little down the hallway into the kitchen. He breezed through the doorway while scooping up Pablo mid-stride and placing him on his perch next to Loren. Her face lit up and softened seeing her three sweet boys entering the kitchen.

“Was that your Mom? Did they get in okay?”

Loren smiled and nodded but there was a glimmer of something else in her expression that he couldn’t quite place. She was deeply appreciative of how William had listened—really listened—when she talked about her parents returning. It was the longest she had ever gone without seeing them, having been gone almost seven months after departing in early October. With so many changes in her life since then, she hadn’t been able to visit them in Costa Rica, even though she’d thought about it more times than she could count

She took a sip of water and nuzzled Pablo first before hoisting Banksy up in her arms. “I was thinking about going to see them tomorrow.” She tried to maintain a smile as she spoke to William but kept her gaze on Banksy’s face. Knots began to form in her stomach - her parents had casually asked if William could join her, but Loren’s heart suddenly started to race with the idea. It was a deep and anxious feeling and she had to take a minute to try and decipher why.

Her expression and body language betrayed her - William clocked it pretty quickly that something was up when her brows began to furrow and cheeks became flushed red.

He didn’t push it and treaded lightly. “That’ll be nice…they’re still in the house you grew up in, right?”

Loren smiled wistfully. She’d love for William to see the house that held so much love and so many memories. She had been so excited with the thought of him finally meeting her parents in person. She already knew that they held such high regard for him and that they were certainly comfortable with one another each time they spoke. She desperately wanted to bring Pablo and Banksy to let them run around the 6 acre property. She had talked about it with William before, describing everything in such vivid detail…even the long laneway that led to her life before him.

But now that the moment was now real—now that they could actually go—her chest tightened.

Loren took a breath and exhaled slowly. “My mom asked if you were able to join me….but you don’t have to — I know that you like your time and I don’t want to interrupt that — so I can just, you know….go on my own….” her voice trailed off.

William recognized it instantly. Loren had warned him—this was what she did sometimes. Getting ahead of herself, trying to manage other people’s reactions before they’d even had a chance to say yes. Emotional damage control, born from a fear of rejection and disappointment.

He stepped a little closer, leaned a hip against the counter beside her. His voice was calm— warm in the way he always was when he could see and feel her spiraling inside that head of hers.

“You know you could just ask me, right?”

Loren looked up, her cheeks flushing again. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath.

“I mean… I think I get it. You’re trying to what - like, protect everyone. Yourself. Me. Them, I guess? But I’m already saying yes in my head while you’re busy trying to talk me out of it.”

Her eyes lowered, focusing on a chipped fingernail. She felt a little embarrassed. “Yeah,” she sniffed. “I see what I did there.”

William softened. “If I ever say no to doing anything with you—whether it’s meeting your family, your friends, going shopping, picking your drunk-ass up (giggle), whatever—it’s only because I physically can’t make it work.”

He paused, just long enough for her to meet his eyes again.

“I think you might be forgetting that I really love spending time with you.”

Loren covered her face with her hands feigning a little shame, a little embarrassment but so much adoration for William. His arms were outstretched and she leaned into him. Her words were muffled against his chest. “I’m sorry for being such a nutbar sometimes.”

William pressed his lips against her head. “Yeah…you get a bit spun sometimes…I know it’s just your ‘I gotta look after everyone’ thing.”

“Feel free to get a tranquilizer dart - hit me in the neck if I get too squirrely,” she chuckled.

“I'll just flash you some of Cowboy Bill - he usually gets your attention.”

Loren groaned. “Oh - good job, William…now I’m drooling.”

❁ ❃ ❁ ❃ ❁

As the northbound 404 stretched ahead, Loren eased into the cushy leather seat of William’s Porsche. The midday sun filtered through the pristine windshield, a far cry from the glass on her weathered SUV that never seemed perfectly clear no matter how hard she tried to keep it clean.

The April sun was warm on her thighs, deceivingly so given the temperature illuminated on the dash was a mere 7 degrees.

She adjusted the cruise control and then glanced at William to her right. His sunglasses on, seat reclined to a comfortable 45 degrees, arms crossed over his chest, his gorgeous mouth slightly open.

Practically catching flies as he slept.

She giggled to herself, shaking her head. “Poor guy,” she tsked while glancing back at Pablo and Banksy who were curled up in the backseat.

God, when her parents left, they had no idea of the whirlwind that Loren was in the midst of. They didn’t know anything about her seeing the popular forward of her and her mother’s favourite team growing up, and the rival team of her father’s.

Loren began to envision thst her parents would likely be watching from the long, rectangular windows in the upstairs TV room—a perfect vantage point to catch sight of anyone coming up the laneway.

Loren also suspected that, despite knowing who William is on paper, and having spoken to him a handful of times, seeing him in person would still hit her parents differently. Watching their daughter in this newer world of hers, ease a luxury vehicle up the driveway with two beloved dogs that belonged to the chill, calm NHL player they’d only ever seen through a screen... it was a lot to process.

Her stomach flipped for what felt like the millionth time.

Over the past six or seven weeks, her parents had gotten to know bits and pieces of William—and they liked what they saw. It was always polite conversations with Wiiliam during calls with Loren, a few thoughtful questions peppered throughout their chats. When William wasn’t around, her parents would ask questions about him with an air of caution, trying to sense which details were private for Loren and William and what she would share openly. They respected that and never pushed for more information - they’d meet him eventually and would see for themselves what William and Loren were all about.

What they had seen—what they couldn’t miss—was the way their daughter had changed.

The Loren who once moved through the world half-clenched and extremely guarded, appeared more at ease. She laughed more. She seemed more comfortable in her own skin.

She had learned to sacrifice and do hard things for the greater good, resigned to keep moving forward with a quiet determination and optimism . They were so profoundly proud of who she had become.

And now, they were finally meeting the man who seemed to meet her where she was—who seemed to recognize her worth and treat her accordingly.

They’d seen glimpses of it already—the way he rubbed her shoulders during a call, how her eyes glanced his way with such affection whenever he leaned into the frame just to say hi. How she could never stop smiling when she spoke of him.

As she sat waiting at a red light on the edge of her hometown, Loren reached over and gently rested her hand on William’s thigh, where it leaned comfortably against the center console. Her palm moved in a slow, familiar rhythm—gliding over the expensive denim from his kneecap to the curve of his quad and back again.

She couldn’t help but to steal a glance at him, still completely asleep. One hand lay sprawled across his chest, the other almost abashedly near his crotch. His mouth was open, the faintest snore rising from his throat.

She exhaled slowly, feeling her heart beat a little faster as she looked out the windshield. It was strange - nothing had changed in the months since she’d visited. Every tree, sign, and house had space deep in her memory….familiar in every way. But in that moment, she had this peculiar feeling, almost like a parallel universe had cracked open that she was now a part of.

At the root of that strange feeling was the fact that the somewhat shy, sometimes reserved little Loren Girard was at the wheel of a luxury SUV, that belonged to the superstar Maple Leaf, William Nylander, who just happens to be this all consuming love of her life…

If she had said it out loud, it would have been the “what the fuck” heard ‘round the world.

Just as the light turned green and Loren inched forward to make the left turn, William, without opening his eyes, lazily guided her hand onto his crotch.

She smirked, lips curving into a slow grin as she turned onto the country road she’d ridden her bike along countless times as a kid. Her parents’ driveway sat a mere sixty yards away.

“I refuse to officially introduce you to my parents when Bill down there is waking up,” she said, her fingers dancing along his zipper. “But then again….,” Loren’s voice trailed off, considering the alternative. She could easily find the entrance to a farm field somewhere and give “riding shotgun” a whole new meaning.

A second went by before she shook her head no, that wasn’t going to happen.

William shifted in his seat as Loren began to slow down, the right turn signal ticked away as she pulled into the entrance marked by two large maple trees and a red mailbox.

Loren had lowered the back window just enough to allow Banksy to stick his head out and smell the country air. Pablo was standing on the middle console like a co-navigator between Loren and William.

She could see William taking in the landscape - large rolling hills to the left of the laneway, flat farmers field still barren from the winter to the right.

“Wow - this is….really nice…,” William craned his neck to get a better look at the house as Loren pulled up behind her father’s Cadillac.

Loren just smiled - her pulse was in her throat so flashing him a grin to mask her nervousness is all she could do.

She turned off the ignition and let her arms fall into her lap, scanning the familiar surroundings as she released a long, steady breath. Then she looked at William again—and without a word—leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were slightly flushed. “Thank you for coming with me today. I know I’m a bit jittery, but it’ll pass soon.”

William tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and kissed her again. “Just wanted one more—your dad might not love me being affectionate with his daughter when we go inside.”

Loren opened the car door and looked back at William with a smirk. “I just hope he never knows all they ways you’ve violated his innocent daughter’s body on the regular…”

William laughed. “Right - yeah…okay….”innocent”….fucking hardly…”

Loren led William and the dogs in through the lower level of the house. They took off their shoes just inside the door, and William glanced around, taking in the walls filled with family photos and landscape paintings. It all felt lived-in and loved.

A few moments later, her parents appeared, all smiles. Hugs were exchanged, handshakes, warm greetings that filled the house with instant comfort.

To William, it was clear how close Loren was to her parents. But more than that, he felt the same kind of warmth from Sylvain and Thérèse that he always felt from Loren.

Standing side by side, Loren definitely looked like her mom—the shape of her face, the way they carried themselves. But those almond-shaped eyes, dark like espresso and full of emotion—those were from her dad.

Her smile, though… that was just Loren. All hers.

The Girard’s recreation room was filled with classic Toronto and Canadian sports memorabilia. A Toronto Argos Grey Cup banner hung proudly near the ceiling. A framed photo of Joe Carter rounding the bases after his legendary home run that sealed the Blue Jays' back-to-back World Series wins. A shot of Mike Weir holding the green jacket at the Masters.

And then William spotted the Maple Leafs section.

He chuckled to himself—because directly across from it was the Canadiens wall.

The divide was clear - the long rivarly even existed in Loren’s basement.

The photos practically stared each other down from across the room, locked in some kind of silent standoff.

On one side of the room, framed photos of Maple Leafs legends—Darryl Sittler, Lanny McDonald, and the great Börje Salming—were spaced evenly across the wall. Below them, almost shrine-like, was Loren’s first love—Felix Potvin. Even Maple Leaf Yearbooks from 1992 and 1993 sat proudly on a display shelf, their corners a little worn from years of flipping.

Then William spotted a photo that stopped him.

Familiar. Recent.

An 8x10 frame, front and center. Wendel Clark. D’Arcy Tucker. Rick Vaive. And standing right in the middle—himself.

Taken from the Night with the Blue and White event.

He tilted his head slightly, a grin played at the corners of his mouth.

Loren saw it too. She didn’t say a word—but she didn’t have to.

That photo and its placement, it meant everything to her.

The group chatted comfortably while Loren meandered alongside William as he made his way over to the “Quebec side” of the room. The Habs. The Expos. The Alouettes. Even the Nordiques had their place—complete with a respectful nod to Sweden: a photo of Mats Sundin, fresh-faced and confident, taken the year he was drafted first overall in 1989.

William paused, taking it all in.

There was something deeply genuine about the fanfare in this room, this family, the passion for the game.

In one glance, it reminded him why hockey fans were unlike any other. And he loved that each of Loren’s family members were represented. He looked back at Potvin’s photo and then over to Loren.

It struck him as kind of funny—how deeply rooted Loren clearly was in the Leafs fanbase, and yet it had never registered to him that way. She could talk hockey, she definitely paid attention, but it was just one thread in intricate design of who she was. One element among thousands.

William gratefully accepted the beer Sylvain handed him as they slipped into conversation about the upcoming Masters. Sylvain asked who William thought had a shot at the green jacket.

Loren, just within earshot, smiled to herself.

If there was one thing she and William could never agree on, it was who would take the title at any given golf tournament. Their playful “disagreement” had started all the way back during their very first get-together—when she’d chirped him about his Masters pick that year, and he’d pretended to be offended.

It was ridiculous. It was ongoing. And it was so them.

She bit her tongue—she wouldn’t answer for him.

She already knew what was coming. As soon as he said “Morikawa,” she’d roll her eyes and make her traditional scoff.

It wasn’t that she had anything against Collin—he was a solid pick. It was just... routine. Especially since William always had something to say about her choices. Whether it was the Swede, Ludvig Åberg (who William swore she only liked because he was cute), or Corey Connors—her go-to Canadian pick—he always gave her grief.

William glanced over at her chuckling. “Scoff all you want, beautiful - it sure ain’t going to be Connors.” Their good natured chirping lead to Loren challenging William over a game of ping pong Loren and whomever reigned victorious in that match up would play against Sylvain in pool.

Sylvain then invited William out to chip golf balls in the backyard. Loren swore she had never seen William so happy then to be able to get some early chipping practice long before the off season comes - whenever that might be.

Meanwhile, Thérèse and Loren opened a bottle of wine and settled into a long-overdue catch-up at the kitchen table.

Soon, Sylvain and William appeared in the backyard, with Pablo and Banksy trotting behind them. Thérèse had already fallen for William’s dogs. The smile on her face lingered for William, too.

[In French]

“He’s very handsome,” her mother murmured, almost to herself.

Loren smiled knowingly. “He sure is.”

A pause.

“They’re talking. Smiling. That’s something.”

Loren tilted her head. “William could charm a tree. A rock. Papa doesn’t stand a chance,” she giggled.

“Seems to be so,” Thérèse replied, stifling a grin behind her glass.

Another pause.

“Should we go out? Show them how it’s done? I’m better than your father now—I practiced every day.”

Loren glanced sideways, catching the glint in her mother’s eye. Her confidence and competitiveness could go toe-to-toe with William’s.

“I’m a little rusty, but I’m game. Maybe after another glass of wine. I’ll chirp William—get him off his game.”

Thérèse looked at her daughter—really looked—and saw how full of life she seemed again. Her eyes softened.

“I doubt that’ll take much when it comes to you, chérie.”

❁ ❃ ❁ ❃ ❁

Not long after Loren held her own chipping balls into a bucket, William went on to successfully desecrate her ping pong record. He told her he expected to see his name engraved on a plaque the next time he visited.

Balance was restored when Sylvain handed William his ass in pool—handily resetting the Girard vs. Nylander axis to a more neutral state.

Thérèse and Sylvain insisted William and Loren relax while dinner was being prepared. Thérèse apologized for the simple menu—baked potatoes, arugula salad, and steak.

Loren had assured her that whatever they made would be absolutely perfect.

Still, her mother had googled “what to feed a professional hockey player” just in case, and decided that she couldn’t go wrong with grilled steak.

While her parents busied themselves in the kitchen, William asked to see her bedroom with a not-so-innocent glint in his eyes.

Loren led William and the dogs down the hallway to the second door on the right. Stepping through, a grillion memories flooded back to Loren all at once. Her happy childhood, her angst-ridden teen years that sometimes lead to sleepless nights filled with anxiety and deep internalizations.

William grinned widely looking around her bedroom. Her desk, her double bed with a pristine handmade quilt with frilly pillowcases propped against the headboard. A few stuffed animals placed in amongst decorative throw pillows. He laughed when he saw she even had a plush “Carlton the Bear”, the mascot for the Maple Leafs sitting on her desk.

Loren turned toward him then, her voice a little quieter. “You know… you’re the first boy I’ve ever had in here.”

William blinked, caught off guard. “Seriously? How is that even possible?”

“I was a good Catholic girl,” she said, smirking. “That—and I was pretty fucking awkward around boys.”

William looked downward and then back towards Loren. “Is it wrong that I’m insanely turned on right now?”

Loren’s expression shifted instantly. Her eyes darkened a touch, her mouth curving into the kind of slow, knowing smile that said everything without saying a word. She pressed up against him. “With my parents down the hall? You want to fuck me - bend me over my desk with Carlton the Bear watching us?” she purred.

William spanked her ass lightly but then grabbed her a pulled her even closer. “It’s gonna happen - maybe not this time…but yeah, first the desk, then the bed…and maybe on your bean bag chair over there,” he chuckled but Loren knew he was more serious that not.

“Maybe I’ll snag the bean bag chair….we can try it at yours tonight, hmmm?”

William kissed her—slowly, with just a hint of tongue—then murmured against her lips,

“You’re not exactly helping the growing situation in my pants right now.”

Loren gave him an apologetic look as they finally—reluctantly—stepped away from one another.

A second later, William heard her gasp, followed by a laugh. He came up behind her to see what she was looking at.

“Oh my god, I totally forgot about this,” Loren said, pointing to a photo propped on her desk—Loren, not quite twenty, surrounded by four other girls. “See this one here?” She tapped the shoulder of a brunette grinning at the camera. “That’s Sienna. She was obsessed with you when you were with the Marlies. I only met her once - she was my friend’s cousin and she was visiting when this picture was taken. I just remember she went on and on about how she was bound and determined to hook up with you.”

Loren paused, eyes widening as a thought hit her. She turned to William, laughing as her mouth dropped open.

“Oh my god. I wonder if she did!”

William blinked, then squinted at the photo. He didn’t recognize her. But… it wasn’t impossible.

He blushed, leaning in for a closer look.

“I mean… I don’t think so. I don’t recognize her,” he said, chuckling as Loren grinned at him like the little shit she was being.

Well, he thought, only Sienna would know for sure.

Loren laughed a little manically…she was enjoying this far too much.

That’s why William tickled her in the spot—the one he’d promised, for the umpteenth time, never to touch again.

She tried not to shriek, wriggling and whining for him to stop as he wrapped himself around her, both of them laughing like idiots.

And just like that, her childhood bedroom—very much a time capsule of the path that had led her here—now held something new.

A memory that was hers, now with William.

Now theirs.

William’s been getting hit on basically since puberty, at least. He knows how to navigate attention — and he knows how to do it well. Sometimes too well. Even with all the increased notoriety from the past few years, he has a certain ease with being in the spotlight, and it's benefitted him well (more sponsorship deals etc).

William can be charming, flirtatious, and magnetic - it comes to him naturally. Without necessarily meaning to cross a line, sometimes, he lets things blur. It's not cheating. He's not gone "there" exactly. But there have been moments, mainly on the road, where he’s allowed a woman to think she had a shot, even if she didn’t. It could be anything. His deliberate eye contact with a slight smirk that lingers. He’ll strike up a casual conversation off a compliment, and let it linger longer than necessary. Maybe a harmless drink with a pretty fan or two while at a club with teammates. Afterwards, he admits to himself that it's careless. When he lets himself really think about it, his stomach twists with the thought of how it might look from a different perspective.

Especially when it comes to Loren.

Because Loren doesn’t play that game.

She’s developed this one mantra. It's the one thing that brings her a certain kind of peace.

And that is: “If he wants them, he can have them.”

She would rather be alone than ever feel like just another option — be it second, third, or fourth in a long list of possibilities. And she means it. She’s not possessive, and she’s not the type to demand he install tracking apps on his phone or interrogate for explanations. She watches, she observes, and most of her security in the relationship rests entirely on how William conducts himself. If and when her insecurities are having a field day inside her mind, it's because William hasn't handled her heart with the same safety and protection that she handles his.

And that’s when it sinks in because he knows what he has in Loren. It's not just in the way she looks. It's in the way she carries herself. The way she thinks. Her genuine kindness. How grounded she's become since they first met. He knows she's got a rare combo of softness and strength.

For almost a year, he has watched her career blossom online — he sees the comments. He sees the DMs and the way other people talk about her. And if he’s honest? He sometimes can’t wrap his head around the fact that she's not about to bask in any of it.

And yes, he gets possessive... Even though she doesn’t look at other men. Not like that.

To her, every other guy might as well be the genderless IKEA stick figure. And when he’s on the road — surrounded by beautiful people, beautiful temptation — that’s the part that eats at him. That she thinks only of him. That she would never dream of shaking their foundation, not even a little. So there's a whole other element in William’s world when it comes to Loren. Pangs of guilt because he knows he can be careless.

Old road habits die hard.

So when the guilt or jealousy does bubble up — when insecurity keeps nagging— it doesn’t trigger them that they explode in arguments.

It shows up in how William touches her.

And that’s where the sex comes in…

When she returns to him from abroad — usually with something thoughtful for him stowed away in her luggage - he feels steady and grounded again. He tries to give her things in return, but truthfully, she just wants him. And when they're alone, he initiates all the different level of intimacy. Every time.

There’s a little bit of caveman in him, a little bit of Valentino. He needs her to know how he feels about her with his actions, and in a much deeper way, he's reminding himself just how precious she is to him.

But even in the most intense moments of intimacy, she senses something else. A silent question starts to curl in her mind - is he being this attentive because he missed me, or is there something else?

He doesn't usually start rough like this.

He's not meaning for it to be quite this desperate — but something goes off in him when she walks through his door....she drops her bag, sighs and smiles as she takes in the view of him. Her light sweater falling off one shoulder exposing the line of her neck and collarbone. The switch is flipped inside of him.

He barely gets her into the bedroom. They don’t make it past the edge of the mattress.

Loren's almost breathless as he goes after her neck with a barrage of hot, open mouthed kisses all the while he pulls her leggings and underwear down. Her smile falters a little when he sinks to his knees in front of her, pulling her close. His mouth and hands are everywhere, adjusting her like she weighs nothing as he tugs her leggings clean off now and spreads her legs. She gasps when he flicks the tip of his tongue against her clit— then sucking first fast, then slowing down.

She tries to reach for his hands but before she can make contact, he’s already lifting her leg over his shoulder, leaning her back as he groans against her pussy, “Jesus, fuck Loren - i can't control - I fuckin missed you so much — fuck your taste...”

She moans something incoherent as her head falls back, with one hand in his hair, but the way his mouth is moving feels frantic....it's too fast. Too hard.

She feels there's something on his mind - something he hasn't figured out how to say out loud.

She cups the back of his neck. “William.”

He doesn’t stop. Not until she repeats his name again, soft yet firmer this time.

“William. Please look at me.”

His mouth slowly pulls away, his beautiful mouth glistening. His eyes are fixed on Loren's face as she sits up, him still knelt before her.

She cups his cheek and kisses his forehead as if she might calm whatever storm that's plaguing his thoughts.

“Slow down,” she whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He leans his forehead against her chest. He rises, kissing her slowly — eyes locked like if he blinks, she’ll disappear.

He murmurs every thought churning in his mind into the crook of her neck — that he wants to be with her everyday. That when he sees her, nothing else matters. That he's so in love with her.

He presses in slow and deep, sliding his arms beneath her neck, cradling her head. He feels her head press back into the palms of his hands, and kisses her open mouth before burying his face in her hair.

As she spreads her legs wide, she moans into his shoulder, “I love you—”

William exhaled audibly through his nose as the elevator in his building climbed steadily toward his floor. He glanced at his phone out of habit, though he already had all the information he needed for the night. Loren was already there, waiting. And Alex would soon be heading out with some buddies for the evening.

He leaned his head back against the elevator wall, the ridged, dark paneling cool against his scalp. The takeout bag in his hand felt heavier than it should have. He was worn and tired after being out all day, fulfilling promotional obligations and squeezing in an interview or two.

A November lull in the regular season schedule didn’t mean rest, not for him at least. But coming home to her for a quiet night in? It felt like the calm he’d been craving since the moment he got out of bed that morning.

When the elevator doors opened, William shifted his phone and the takeout bag into the same hand and fished out his key from his pocket. Fuck, he could hardly wait to get inside and just turn his mind off for awhile.

But as soon as he unlocked the front door, he was greeted by the sound of the TV—some dating show and a wild contestant chronicling a dramatic argument over someone kissing the wrong person in a pool.

What caught his attention more, though, were the muffled voices coming from deeper inside the condo. The kind of sounds that made his radar suddenly flash on.

He paused.

Then he heard Alex, spitting and breathless:

"I can’t do this, Loren!"

And Loren’s still muffled laugh, and what sounded like a small mouthful of water:

"This was your idea…It’s okay—I can take it. Just do it."

William blinked.

What the fuck….?

A longer slurp followed, then silence.

He slowly walked into the open concept living room which bordered the kitchen, his eyes scanning the scene. His brain trying to process what he was looking at.

Loren and Alex were standing about three feet apart, eyes fixed on each other.

It screamed a kind of weird tension - but not serious tension between them. His eyebrows drew together.

Their cheeks were puffed out like chipmunks hoarding a winter’s worth of supplies, and each of them held a thin tortilla dangling from their grip. It flopped and folded over their fingers as they started to posture for what was next.

They mumbled through the mouthfuls:

“One… two… three… rock-paper-scissors…”

Alex threw rock. Loren threw scissors.

She flinched, bracing for it.

William’s mouth dropped. “Fuck Bro—what the… are you actually gonna smack her?”

Alex looked over at William, turned and immediately spit the water into the sink as he laughed.

“I can’t fucking do it,” he said shaking his head and wiping his mouth with his hand. “Yes, it was a dumb idea in the first place but she just…I can’t - she’s got this…face…like Pablo when he’s sulking,” Alex chuckled.

Loren spits out her water into the sink, holding her hair around her neck. “Your face was worse…like you broke a family heirloom and you’re waiting for a swat on your ass.”

Alex chuckled as he grabbed his phone and turned off the recording.

William leaned a shoulder against the island, watching them wipe their faces and giggle as they took mild shots at one another.

He couldn’t help the grin, the warmth he felt as he watched his brother, his best friend, his ride-or-die...with the woman who held his heart and soul.

This version of Loren, watching as she laughed, cheeks flushed from wine, was still one he was learning in bits and pieces. Loren, the girlfriend version.

They’d only made it official in October, and somehow every moment felt both familiar and beautifully new. With Loren in his space, with his people, in his everyday—it just felt right. Effortless even.

William set the takeout bag and his phone and motioned towards Alex’s phone. “Okay, I gotta see some of the footage…how did this even start?”

“You guys said you wanted to try my fajitas, so I brought the groceries,” Loren said with a smirk, teasing a little. “Alex saw the tortillas, and I swear, I could see the light bulb go off over his head.”

Alex shook his head, still smiling as he pressed pause on the first challenge he’d recorded.

William glanced between them, amusement teasing his lips. His gaze lingered on Loren a little longer.

Her gaze met his, and perhaps unsurprisingly, she offers him a chance. She remarked that judging from his eyes, he looked like he could use a laugh after a long day.

Loren tilted her head, motioning for him to come over. She had this beautiful, diabolical, mischievous look in her eye. With a grin spreading across her face, she challenged him, “Just one time, mon amour.”

William knew he was getting roped in, and there was no use fighting it. He simply couldn’t say no to her.

Not when she was nearly through her second glass of wine, and he could already hear it loosening her tongue. Her Quebecois accent was more noticeable than usual, making her even more irresistible.

Within a few minutes, William squared up across from Loren, cheeks puffed out with water, tortilla dangling at his side. Loren finished her wine—somehow with a gulp that still looked graceful—and filled her mouth with water. William almost lost it at how ridiculous and cute she looked as she winked at him.

Alex counted them in: “Rock… paper… scissors—shoot!”

Loren won.

William braced. His eyes squinted shut, shoulders tense, expecting the slap.

But instead of swinging the tortilla, Loren stepped forward, secretly swallowing her water. She set the tortilla down, then cupped William’s face gently in her hands.

In slightly broken Swedish, she whispered in his ear:

“Ikväll vill jag att du ska knulla mig bakifrån tills jag glömmer mitt eget namn.”

Then, because she was committed to really throwing him off his game—she gently tongued his earlobe.

William’s eyes flew open.

The water in his mouth exploded—against her neck, down her collarbone, the rest bubbling out and soaking the space between her breasts as both he and Alex burst into laughter, that almost famous Nylander cackle echoing through the room.

Loren was laughing too, her hand covering her mouth, face bright red from the sheer audacity of what she’d just said.

Tonight, I want you to fuck me from behind until I forget my own name.

Yes, she’d tripped over ikväll and knulla mig bakifrån—more from nerves than anything else. Although she had been practicing it all day, he never intended to say it in front of his brother.

But judging by William’s immediate reaction, there was no doubt that he understood exactly what she said.

Alex heard all he needed to at that point and knew it was his cue to leave. He had his own plans that involved the same “spirit” of what Loren was proposing in her tipsy state.

After Alex made his exit, the door clicked shut and Loren soon wrapped herself around him, her arms circling behind his neck, his stubble still beaded with water.

Her eyes locked on his mouth. “Hi,” she said sweetly, with a bit of heat mixed in.

Rather than wait for a response, her mouth grazed his longingly as he pulled her closer. His hands were firmly planted on her ass, his tongue teasing hers as she moaned into his mouth.

Her mouth left his while kissing a path along his jawline to the softness under his chin. She continued over to the other side of his jaw before saying she needed to go change.

He watched her pad barefoot out of sight towards his bedroom before letting out another sigh, as he shook his head and smiled at the slight bit of chaos he was initially greeted with.

When Loren remerged, she’s in a simple tank and leggings. Yet the writing on the tank is not quite as simple or innocent. Neither was Loren and the way she looked at William.

She had let down her hair, which was wild and wavy as the ends curled down over her shoulders. The only apparent touch up was a little red lip gloss, clearly to emphasize the message on her tank.

“Red Lips Sink Ships”.

As if the shirt wasn’t suggestive enough, she’d also ditched her bra. Her breasts curved perfectly beneath the thin cotton, nipples faintly visible and impossible for William not to notice.

“You’re a menace - you know that, right?” William chuckled as he removed the food container from the bag.

She smirked and did this faux bashful shrug as she poured the two of them some wine.

She handed him a glass, and within seconds of the wine hitting his bloodstream, the last of the day’s tension began to melt away. He let himself lean in, fully soaking in the woman beside him.

They sat in the high, upholstered chairs at the island, as close as two people could be without actually sharing one. They giggled, exchanged some light moments from their day, and fed each other everything from green dragon rolls to pieces of sashimi. He nearly killed her by overloading the soy sauce with wasabi, her eyes welling with tears from the sharp burn on her tongue.

With their stomachs satisfied but other appetites growing, they meandered over to the large sectional, where Love Triangle Australia played in the background.

William nodded towards the screen as he set their wine glasses down. “Alex got into this by mistake - thought it was literally about threesomes…”

Loren, who rarely had time to watch anything on TV, smirked as she assumed by William’s tone, threesomes weren’t meant to be the selling point of the show. “Poor Alex - must’ve been so disappointed with all the - what…talking going on, clothing still being worn, etcetera…,” Loren chuckled.

Speaking of clothing…. William thought as his eyes almost licked her from head to toe. That tank is definitely staying here for…well, forever… he silently concluded.

He sat on the couch and guided Loren to straddle his lap.

Loren cupped his jaw and kissed him so sensually and passionately that his brain practically short-circuited—like every nerve in his body was lighting up at once.

Fuck, her mouth was almost criminal. It wasn’t just how good it felt—it was something deeper, it gave his lungs air as much as it took it away.

No matter how many experiences he’d had, she was quietly erasing every memory. And the wildest part? She’d never believe she was capable of that.

But William knew the truth.

He was living proof.

He wanted to slow down and ask her how her day was, but at the same time, he wanted to be buried inside her. The intensity of it all nearly overwhelmed him…how much he loved just experiencing her.

He paused mid-kiss and cradled her face in his hands. Her deep brown eyes looked back at him with so much adoration, he swore he could feel the warmth of her gaze in his bones.

They were both feeling good—partly from the wine, sure. But mostly, William was realizing that this was just them. A little wine-drunk, limbs wrapped around each other, on a quiet night in.

And honestly? He wasn’t sure he’d ever been happier.