The Crosby Life

I am definitely having the best year of my career.
Even though I’m not a scorer, I do have the most assists in the league. I’m a playmaker, not a scorer, and I really fit into my roll this year. The injures got me last year, but this is my year now! Ok, it seems to be everyone’s year. But I don’t feel like ruining my happy moment.
Today is my wonderful fiance’s birthday, however, and it is his day. He doesn’t know it, but I have something special planned out for him and I can’t wait. But first, our teammates wanted to take him out for the day.
All the boys lined up in front of me. Tanger, Max, Geno, Brooks, Jordan, T.K, Sidney, and finally my man, and I spoke to each one of them in turn. “No drinking...No drinking and no girls...My usual tattletale...Driver of one car...Don’t hurt yourself...Don’t be stupid...Driver two...And have lots of fun.” I smiled and kissed Marc softly before pulling away. “Now off with you! I have things to do!”
The eight boys exited through the open door, and I heard Max mumble to Geno. “You’re the one who always tattles on us?”
I just heard Geno’s reply before I closed the door. “She teach better English than you asshole.”
I laughed pretty hard for the next five minutes.
After I finally controlled myself, I quickly headed into the kitchen, tying my dark hair up, and getting out everything I’d need to make Marc’s favorite meal plus some.
French pancakes and poutine is his favorite thing of all time, so that was on top of my list. Along with everything else that he likes. He better not eat with the boys, or eat now and not near when he comes home. Cause I will not be making all this for nothing.
I was just getting ready to make the batter for the pancakes when my phone went off. I had to look all over the kitchen for it because I accidentally buried it beneath some of the pots and pans I had out. “Hello?”
“Erra!”
I raised an eyebrow as I heard Jenna’s voice. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I miss you.” We haven’t been able to see much of each other lately. “And I have a question.”
I laughed hard and went back to making the batter. “Nice opening into a question.” She laughed. “So what do you need?”
“What’s bra size are you?”
I laughed hard at her strange question. “Don’t you already know that? Thirty-four D.”
“I used to, but I forgot it.” We both laughed. “Can I borrow your strapless? Sidney’s taking me on a date later after they get back from celebrating Marc’s birthday, and I want to wear that strapless dress I bought a couple weeks ago.”
“Sure. I’m cooking now but come on over and get it.”
“Thank’s Erra!”
I chuckled. “No problem. See you in a bit.” I hung up my phone and got back to concentrating on my man’s dinner.
I had the lasagna in the oven when Jenna entered through the front door. She never really bothered knocking anymore, just like I don’t when I go over to her and Sid’s place. “Hey!” I called from the kitchen.
Jenna poked her head in and grinned. “Hey. How’s your fiance’s dinner coming along?”
“Great,” I chuckled, taking off my apron. “Now let’s find my bra for you.”
We traveled upstairs and I went to my dresser, digging through my designated bra drawer. “Hmm,” I mumbled to myself. “What the hell did Marc do with it.”
Jenna laughed. “Marc?”
I grinned at her. “I’m lucky to have a man who does the laundry.”
We both laughed as I continued looking.
I went looking in my other drawers and finally found it. “Here you go,” I grinned at her. “Now don’t you have too much fun with my brother tonight. I will know. I know all.”
Jenna pretended to give me a freaked out look. “Yes, mighty Sierra!” We laughed while heading down the stairs. “Don’t you have too much fun tonight.”
A wicked look passed through my eyes. “Oh, but that’s the plan, my dear friend.”
Jenna made a disgusted look. “Too much information!”
I shook my head and laughed, opening the door. “You started it!”
“Actually, you did. With Sid and I.”
I stuck my tongue out at her as she exited my house. “Talk to you later, Jens.”
“See ya, Erra!”
I shook my head as I closed the door, and checked on the food. I finished up with the cheesecake I was working on and put it in the refrigerator before heading up the stairs to take a much needed shower. I was just covered in food.
I picked out some nice clothes that I know Marc considers one of my favorite outfits, and I hopped in the shower. I relished in the hot water, but knew I couldn’t stay in long. I have a perfect dinner that needs to be attended too, even if most of the food is actually finished.
I hopped out of the shower, and before I wrapped the towel around my frame, I twisted to look at my back in the mirror. I had a nice, pretty large bruise stretched along the back of my ribs and reaching for my spine. I got it from taking a really hard hit in the game against the Senators. I don’t think Marc knows I have it, and hope to keep it that way. But after what I have in plan for tonight, that may not quite happen.
I wrapped myself in my towel and opened the door to head into our bedroom where my clothes awaited me.
I quickly dressed and turned around to head back downstairs, only to jump in surprise when Marc was standing in the doorway. “Damn it, Marc-Andre!” I breathed, trying to calm my heartbeat.
He chuckled and stepped forward, his eyes raking over me with his soft smile. “You look beautiful, as always,” he said in French. I grinned and he took my hand, pulling me into him. “Why do I have the feeling you have something planned? The sign you posted just inside the front door sort of set off some warning bells.”
I laughed at the look on his face. Before I came upstairs, I taped a sign on the wall by the front door just in case he came home while I was up here. It read, “DO NOT GO INTO THE KITCHEN!” I had a feeling he’d get nervous. “Sorry, babe.”
He shrugged and kept on smiling. “So, when do I get to know why I can’t go into the kitchen?”
I grinned. “Now, if you go wait in the dining room.”
I didn’t have to tell him twice. He raced down the stairs like a child getting candy.
With a chuckle, I followed him and slipped into the kitchen while running my fingers through my drying hair. All of the food was ready, so I served it on two plates and carried both in.
Marc looked up at me expectingly and smiled as he saw what I made. “You made this all for me, ma chérie?”
I smiled and sat down. “Of course, mon amour.” I winked at him. “It’s your birthday and I want it to be special.”
Marc reached over the table and took my hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “Every day I’m with you is special, my Sierra. You are everything I want and need in this life to be happy. You make every single day special.”
I smiled at him and kissed his rough knuckles. “I feel the same way, Marc. You are everything to me.”
We smiled at each other for a minute, before a silent agreement between us had us both scarfing down food. Not to brag, but I am a pretty good cook, and what I made tonight for my fiance is just brilliant.
We ate and chatted, laughing a lot and I even spit out my water because of him. I must say, having a goofball as a lover is probably one of the best people to have. They always keep things entertaining, and Marc always makes me laugh.
After dinner, the two of us cleaned up together. I let him sing loudly, and fairly badly, in both languages, and I pretty much only laughed the whole time. We ended up switching positions because I wasn’t doing a very good job at washing. I accidentally got my poor cat wet. Woops.
After we finished, I finally wandered up the stairs to take off the locket Marc had given me a while back. I licked my lips as I did so, the nerves at what I was about to do finally starting to settle in. I’m a hockey player. That doesn’t mean we don’t get nervous about little things.
As I knew he would, Marc-Andre followed me up. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my shoulder. “I love you,” he said softly.
I turned in his arms. “I love you too, Marc,” I replied, resting my hands on his chest. “Marc...” Hell, I didn’t know how to start.
“What is it, Sierra?” he asked, concern floating in his dark eyes.
I gave him a smile, and I had no doubt that it showed my arms. “Marc,” I took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Marc, I want your birthday to be special.” I held up his hand as he tried to intervene. “I want your birthday to be really special.” I held his eyes with my own. He had one eyebrow raised and I didn’t let my gaze waiver. “I want you, Marc-Andre. I love you more than anything and I’m sick of waiting. You deserve more than me holding onto an ignorant thirteen year old’s promise. I have loved you for years, and we are married in every way except on paper.”
The look on my fiance’s face was absolutely priceless. I gained more confidence in what I was saying throughout my intricate little speech, and he knew it.
“Sierra,”
I broke him off again. “I’m dead serious, Marc.”
Desire crossed his eyes and I stepped forward, not mistaking the look in any way as my lips crashed onto his. He immediately kissed back passionately, his strong arms wrapping around my body and pulling me to him.
My hands went down to the bottom of his shirt, and with one fluid motion, it was over his head and lying on the floor.
I could feel the desire, the want, in his kisses, and it only made me want him even more.
But before we went any farther, he pulled away, looking deep into my hazel eyes. “Sierra, are you really sure you want to do this? You always said you wanted to wait...”
“Marc,” I said a little breathless, “I was thirteen and had no idea what love is. I know now, and I love you more than I thought possible. You are my fiance, and we will be together in a matter of time anyways. I’m just tired of waiting.” I knew I held that Crosby-stubborn look. “I love you, Marc, and I want you.”
Now the look on his face was want, and I took that as his answer that he’s ready too.
I threw my body at him, knowing that he didn’t want to wait until our wedding night. His argument when we became engaged was that we’ve loved each other for so long, and we were going to get married. Both of us are virgins, and he wanted us to come together as one because we loved each other for so long.
But I insisted on my childhood values.
Not any longer.
I can’t wait any longer. I want my fiance, my love, my soulmate. And I want him now.
Marc, unskillfully, got my blouse over my head while our mouths were crashed on each other with such a passion that I was not aware of anything else in the world.
I took his hat off his head, trying to be careful of his hair but not really succeeding, and fumbled at the button on his jeans.
He eventually gave up and rid himself of his jeans himself before slipping me out of the skirt that I wore.
I collapsed on the bed, his body following, before relieving each other of our undergarments.
I stared at him, licking my lips with lust and love, before he ended the painfully long wait, the two of us uniting as one body on his twenty-sixth birthday.