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The Right Move (Windy City, #2)(107)

Author:Liz Tomforde

I push inside of her one more time and come.

It’s overwhelming. Her skin on mine. How much I love this woman. I’m almost dizzy with blurred vision as her body pulls every last drop I have to give. It’s euphoric and calming at the same time. This woman ruined me the day she walked into that apartment, then she brought me back to life soon after, and I’m hers. I’ve always been hers.

Falling on top of her, she holds me, our chests rising and falling together.

“I love you,” I murmur into her neck.

“I love you.”

Slowly, I pull out and watch as my cum drips out and down her body. With a single finger, I collect it, pushing it back in, and loving the way it looks to have me inside of her.

I’m fairly certain I growl or some shit. I don’t know. Some possessive caveman noise comes out of my throat at the sight in front of me.

“Did you just develop a breeding kink, Shay?”

Quickly nodding, I keep my eyes locked on her open legs. “I think so. Give me ten and let’s do that again.”

She laughs, such a lovely sound tickling my ears.

I’m going to stay here all night, naked with the love of my life in our home. Or at least that’s what I was planning before the doorbell rings.

My eyes snap up to hers. “Who’s that?”

Indy’s head jerks to the clock on the nightstand. “Oh shit! I should’ve told them an hour later than I did!”

Frantically, she jumps off the bed, grabbing her bra and dress to throw on.

I’m not sure why, but I follow her lead, redressing as quickly as possible. “Told who?”

Guiltily, she looks back at me over her shoulder. “Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Well, everyone in our circle. You bought this house to get away from the chaos of the city, but also because you wanted a place to spend time with your friends and family without feeling like you’re constantly being watched. I just figured”—she hesitates—“there’s no better way to break in this house than celebrating Chicago making the playoffs for the first time in six years.”

The doorbell rings again and I follow her down the stairs. As she opens the front door, Indy adjusts her bra and I focus on rezipping my pants only to find Zanders and my sister waiting on the front step.

“Well don’t you two look freshly fucked.” Zanders pats my cheek before barging into my house.

“I’d give you both a hug”—my sister holds her hands up in surrender—“but I’m going to pass this time.”

The two of them take off to the kitchen, leaving Indy and me alone in the foyer.

“Can we celebrate?” she asks with an excited sparkle in her eye.

I bought this house for her to host. For her to have as many people over as she likes. I’m sure I’ll continue to be a bit of a lone wolf, to want my time alone as long as that time alone includes her. But Indy, as much as she’s learned to be content in the quiet, will always be a social butterfly.

I didn’t buy this place to hide her away from the entire world, I bought it so she could bring our world to us.

“Please?”

I won’t lie and say tonight felt complete when I left the arena. Though this is simply another win to the rest of the league, to my teammates, to me, it’s everything and we’ve yet to celebrate our accomplishment.

Bracketing her jaw, I kiss her one more time, smiling into her mouth. “Yeah, Blue, let’s celebrate.”

The house is filled with my teammates. Drinks are flowing and food is on a constant loop as Indy glides through the house with trays of appetizers to pass out.

Dom and his mom are here as well as Leon and the rest of the guys. Even the Morgans made an appearance. Ethan and Annie brought their three girls who are running around in the backyard with never-ending energy. Ethan’s mother-in-law has been in the kitchen teaching Indy her secret recipe for kimchi jjigae which she would make in batches for me and the boys to take home after team dinners when Ethan hosted. It’s my favorite comfort meal, and Indy should be careful learning Mrs. Jeong’s recipes because if they end up tasting half as good as the original, she will be the one cooking our meals for the rest of our lives.

The doorbell rings again, but I’m not sure who else could be joining us. Everyone who is important to us from Chicago is here, but as I go to open the door, Indy chases after me so we can do it together.

“Mom!” she exclaims as soon as it’s partially open, throwing herself into Abigale’s arms.

“Oh, I missed you, Ind!”

Turning towards her dad, I immediately concentrate, trying to remember everything I’ve learned. Flat open hands, one on top of the other, I slide the palm of my dominant hand over my non-dominant hand, perpendicular to each other. Then I sign “meet” before pointing at Tim.

Nice to meet you.

I continue and speak aloud in case Indy needs to correct me if I sign incorrectly. “Welcome to our home.”

Tim smiles with pride before slowly signing back to me. “Has my daughter been a handful?”

“The best handful.”

He chuckles. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

This time I don’t use my voice as I sign, wanting this conversation to be strictly between Indy’s dad and me. “I love her. She’s my whole world. My best friend.”

Tim nods thoughtfully before wrapping me up in a hug.

“Ryan,” Abigale beams when Tim moves on to giving his daughter some attention. “About time.”

I hug the woman who I’ve spent every Tuesday afternoon Facetiming for months. “I didn’t know you two were flying in tonight.”

“We were supposed to come in a few weeks, but then Indy told us about the house and the party, so we changed our trip. The house is lovely, Ryan. Nice work.”

She signs her words for her husband as she speaks before patting my chest like we’re old friends, and honestly, I feel like we are. The Ivers all do a hell of a job at making those around them feel comfortable and welcome.

Indy’s hand slides into mine as we show her parents around our new home.

Tim has kept his signs slow and clear for me as we chat. I’m still so new that Indy and her mom translate for me when needed, but there are multiple times I’m able to communicate with him entirely on my own.

There’s a burst of pride and achievement that rattles through me when our conversation flows without help, and I look forward to the day when I’m fluent.

He signs again, but I’m not able to catch his entire question. I recognize the signs for win and game. But there’s one sign that Tim makes that I’ve never seen before.

It looks similar to the sign for protect, but on his dominant hand, his index and middle fingers are crossed like the letter “R”。

“Oh,” Indy squeaks out. She swallows thickly. “Yes, Ryan won his game.”

She signs back to her dad while speaking and again I see that same unknown sign, but recognize it used in place of the fingerspelling of my name.

Tim turns to me, points, then signs the word protect again with his fingers creating the letter “R” at the same time. He points at me again.

“I’m Ryan?” I ask, using his sign for my name.