thirty-six

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
                          
Aria
                          
I feel drunk. Drunk on everything Leo. As much as I enjoy having control, I allow Leo to take the lead. I can't stop myself from drowning in the way he touches me. Gently. Perfectly. When we're both spent, he rolls over beside me and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. I glance at him, admiring his flushed cheeks and the glisten of sweat across his chest as it rises and falls at a rapid pace.
                          
"You're getting better at this," I tease, playfully flicking his nose. 
                          
Leo grabs my wrist and presses my knuckles to his lips, letting them linger there for a moment before he intertwines his fingers with mine. "Well," he replies, not ashamed in any way about what I've said. "I have a great teacher."
                          
I don't feel embarrassed about telling Leo what I want and how I want it, but for some reason, my already-flushed cheeks turn a couple of degrees hotter. 
                          
He chuckles, slipping his free arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. To me, it's still surreal, having a boyfriend that treats me as an equal. That is living, breathing proof there are still good men out there. What I love most about Leo is that he knows I can handle myself. He knows the fine line between offering help when I need it and when I don't. That being said, he's also extremely supportive and doesn't dismiss someone's decision unless he catches any hit of negativity that could potentially come. And, on top of that, he considers every aspect of his decisions and what effect they will have on the people surrounding him. I could write a book about the things I love about him, about why I love this dynamic relationship between the two of us. 
                          
The day we met, that rainy, gross day where I almost hit him with the rental vehicle, I hadn't thought twice about a potential relationship with him, let alone ever seeing him again. I had wanted answers to the questions that had been swirling in the back of my mind. I had wanted to know why he didn't know who I was or why he didn't rush over to me like some men do and beg for my autograph. I had wanted to know if he was okay after learning what happened to his dad. I laid my concerns anywhere else but in the possibility of having a relationship with him, and I think it's the best unintentional decision I've ever made. If I had thought about it, I would have continuously been questioning his actions. I would have continuously been in self-defence mode. After all these years of being a hockey player, there have been many situations where men have tried to get together with me simply because I'm famous and make a fair amount of money. A fair amount, but not nearly as much as male players do. 
                          
"What are you thinking about?" Leo asks, interrupting my thoughts. 
                          
"The day we met," I reply, my cheeks turning pink again. "I'm, uh, sorry I snapped at you."
                          
I'm certain that Leo is unaware that he's running his fingers through my hair in a repetitive motion, but it doesn't bother me. It reminds me of how sweet he is, how lucky I am to have him next to me. "It's fine," he replies. "We were both snippy with each other. Can I ask you one question, though?"