Chapter 18

chapter 18

EMMALINE

I wake up from a deep sleep with a voice whispering over my skin, causing the flesh to pimple. “You’re so damn sexy.” I’m dreaming. Always dreaming of a man using those words to describe me. I smile as I remember that Bryce Wynward is with me—in my bed, trailing his fingers down my arm and over my hips.

Twisting my head back to look at him, those piercing blue eyes draw me in. He seems to mean what he’s saying. There are no falsehoods behind his eyes, only what he sees as the truth. Of course, I know I’m not sexy. Playful, yes. But this body isn’t sexy. It’s soft. My boobs are too big to be perky, which is why the push-up bra was invented. Right? My hips have some extra layers and are a little squishy, but they can be hidden by the pair of jeans. Last night, I was exposed, yet Bryce kept telling me how much my body turned him on.

On cue, Bryce says in a dry, raspy, wake-up voice, “Good morning, sexy. ”

I close my eyes and take in his words. Maybe this is the day I believe he’s right.

“You made me feel sexy. Thank you.” I give him a gentle peck on the corner of his mouth before he pulls me tighter into his body.

“It’s the first time I’ve climaxed at the same time with a woman. That was an incredible feeling. Only you, Rusti. Only you.”

A rush of warmth spreads through me, fueling my heart and soul as his words sink in. Suddenly, everything feels like a dream, like I’m finally waking up next to the man I’ve been craving since that night, eight years ago. But it’s not a dream; it’s happening.

I’ve had sex a few times but never stayed overnight with a man. Each time was lackluster and never fulfilled me the way Bryce did. The way he does.

“I like it when you’re happy and not so grumpy,” I say as I roll to face him and stare at the beautiful specimen that for some unknown reason, wants me. Needs me. “I just mean, you have it all. You should be happy.”

He sighs. “It’s hard to be happy with my life when I know it was meant for someone else,” he says, staring right past me, looking at my ear—tucking my hair into place.

“So, you’re unhappy?” I ask.

“Not now. I’m fucking elated that I’m in your bed. That you let loose and trusted me with your body, again. I’m not sure if I can let you go now. Too many people have disappeared from my life, and I’m…” His eyes collide with mine momentarily. “It’s exhausting pretending, so one day, I decided to just stop acting like I’m happy. I love hockey and my teammates. I thought I loved Andrea in college, bu t I just wanted to be loved. Wanted to give it and receive it.”

He knows how to give love in the sexual sense, and I almost tell him, but his eyes look like he’s lost in the past. Not here with me.

“I’m sorry she chose someone else. Would it hurt less if she chose another guy over you instead of a girl?”

With a slight shake of his head, he comes back to me. “No. It shocked me. She knew what I had been through—not many people did—so I felt totally alone in life. I know now that I wasn’t in love, but it was one more person who disappeared.”

While I wait to see if he continues, I consider the words totally alone in life. What would that feel like? I’ve always had a tight-knit family unit to fall back on. My brother has always been my best friend. The person to have my back no matter what.

I slide one hand up to his face, my thumb stroking over his morning stubble. “Do you feel alone now?” I ask, and I’m not suggesting that we’re together, but he has a daughter who he seems to love.

Giving me a weak smile, he says, “Well, not right now.”

Sensing there’s more to his story, his background, I put on my therapy cap and ask, “Will you tell me what originally made you feel alone? Before Andrea?”

“I can’t do this right now. I need to go home and be on the team plane for the away game.” The sigh he exhales sounds like it’s coming from a place no one has been—deep.

I had forgotten about the away trip to Nashville. Bryce is flying Jolie and I out later.

“How much time do you need? What I like about working with children is they don’t filter anything. They just speak. ‘My daddy hit me.’ Or ‘My mommy never feeds me.’ Adults could learn a lot from kids. Just give me one sentence that sums it up.”

His blue eyes cloud, turning from bright to stormy. I’ve heard terrible things through my counseling work. Kids who have been burned with cigarette butts. Kids who have been beaten and abandoned, so nothing he can say will shock me.

“I killed my brother.”

For a fleeting moment, his admission shakes me to the core. It’s one thing I’ve never heard from a child. No way did this man end another person’s life—there has to be more to his story, and I plan on helping Bryce open up about it.

Quickly, I gather my thoughts as my hands slide up his oblique muscles, which are solid and unforgiving to my touch. Okay, I do get distracted and kiss him. The second my tongue slips between his lips, he groans.

Believe me, I know how this appears. He says he kills someone, and here I am kissing him. I always wondered why women are attracted to men in jail. Now I know. It’s because you want to help them.

When the butterfly kiss ends, I ask, “What happened?”

Deep breath. Wait for it. Give him time.

“He was a little over a year older than me and…”

Suddenly, I hear a car door slam. “Hold that thought.” I race over to the window and see my brother’s car. “Crap. Oh shit. Roman’s here.” That’s when I remember that it’s Bryce’s car in my driveway, not mine.

“Okay.” He situates himself on his elbow. “We’re adults.”

“You have to hide. Get up. Hide,” I whisper-shout .

Bryce sits up with his arms hanging off his knees. “Are you serious?”

A knock sounds at my door.

“Please. I’m your nanny.”

“You’re more than…”

“Please,” I beg. “Thank God you needed a condom and picked up your clothes.” I throw his pants, underwear, and shirt to him. That’s when I realize Bryce didn’t bring his shoes up.

He grabs his clothes, gets out of bed, and jerks his pants through each leg. Meanwhile, I throw on a pair of pajamas with Bryce’s gaze swallowing me whole. My panties are wet in an instant. What this man does to me.

“Here.” I push him into my small walk-in closet, and he chuckles, but it sounds a little like disbelief. I gallop down the stairs, hoping I can get Roman to leave.

The knock on my door gets louder. “Open the damn door,” Roman shouts.

It’s early in the morning, but I’m sure my neighbors are early birds in their seventies. I grab the cold knob and swing the door open. “Shh. My neighbors are old.”

“Then they can’t hear me.”

He walks past me into the den. Luckily, I kicked Bryce’s dress shoes under the couch. Hopefully my brother can’t tell that I’ve been thoroughly satisfied.

“Why is Wynward’s car here?” he asks, accusations lacing his tone.

Fuck. I didn’t have time to think this through. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Hell yeah. ”

I mumble under my breath, “Great.” I pop a pod into the Keurig. “What’s in the bag?”

“Your favorites. Chocolate-drizzled croissants and pecan braids.” Roman sets the bag on the counter as I get out two small plates. “Now, are you going to tell me why in the hell Bryce Wynward’s car is here? I thought you had a date last night.”

I peek at my brother over my shoulder, and the gears are clicking in his mind. “My car wouldn’t start, so he let me drive his car home. He had mine taken to the shop.”

I hate lying to my brother, but he can’t know about Bryce and me. Not from eight years ago and not now. It would be a never-ending stream of questions and derogatory comments like:

How stupid are you?

He’s a player.

Are you insane?

Did you learn anything from Grant?

Roman’s chin lifts like it does when he’s pondering. “Hmm. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I had to get ready for my date.”

“How was it? Did the app pair you with your soul mate?” he jokes.

As a matter of fact, it did.

Bryce and I have chemistry that would blow up a science lab, but he would never want me long term. So, instead, I say, “It was okay. No sparks. We played mini golf and had dinner.”

Savoring his croissant, I fill his coffee cup and hand it to him. “Sorry, sis. It’s the first step to the next phase in your life.”

What he doesn’t know is I took the first step eight years ago when Bryce Wynward swept me off the dance floor, kissed, sucked, and fucked me into oblivion. The trouble is I’ve been trying to get over that, not my asshole ex who left me on my wedding day.

“I moved on from Grant a long time ago. You’re the one I’m worried about. Penelope sucks.”

He hangs his head, stands, and stares out my kitchen window. “She deserves to be happy, and she wasn’t happy with me obviously. I guess you should never marry your teenage sweetheart—she didn’t have a chance to sew her oats.”

Hugging him around his waist, I say, “She should have told you.”

“Don’t blame it on her. No woman deserves to be the wife of a professional hockey player. We’re gone too much. We care too much about ourselves and our success to be a good partner in life. I just thank God you have never been interested in any of my teammates.” He turns and squeezes me tight. “You’re going to find a nice accountant who puts you on a pedestal. He’ll be short and wiry with glasses.” A deep belly laugh tumbles out his throat.

“Stop. At least give me a gym teacher or a hot fireman. I need someone who will tell you to mind your own business. Anyway, have you found a match yet?”

“In fact, I have a date next week when we get back from the away series in Nashville.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’m coming and bringing Jolie.”

His brows dip. “Why?”

“Because Bryce wants to be a good father and since it’s a weekend, I don’t have to work the afterschool program. Jolie and I are flying out tonight.”

He stuffs the rest of the pastry into his mouth, then swallows a sip of coffee. “And here I was bringing you a treat because I wouldn’t see you.”

“Okay, you need to go. I need to pack a bag and be at Bryce and Jolie’s in an hour so he can get to the arena to leave.”

Roman twists his mouth and sets his mug into the sink. “Yeah, he’s always the first one there. It’s weird not being the team captain.”

“Roman, sometimes it’s good to be a follower. Just listen and enjoy your teammates. You always complained that you never got to just ‘Be.’” I use air quotes.

“I know.” He kisses me on the cheek. “Wear the jersey I gave you.”

“Sure thing.”

Pushing him out the door, I sigh. When I turn around, Bryce is standing there in last night’s clothes, looking just as scrumptious as he did before we had sex. Why does he have to look like a GQ model with those massive shoulders and thighs?

“No sparks, huh?” His tone is defiant as he stalks toward me and slips his hand down the back of pajama shorts, sliding his fingers down my backside, grazing my folds.

“Mmmm.” I immediately relax into him, getting wetter and wetter.

“Get dressed. You can shower at my house.”

He pulls his hand out, and I miss the feeling of his hand against my skin. When I press on my toes to kiss him, all I see is his resting dick face. No wonder everyone calls him Captain Grump. His hands grab my waist, and puts distance between us. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket and walks out the front door. He’s talking to someone, but I can’t make out the words, so I go up and throw a suitcase together.

He doesn’t say a word on the way to his penthouse. It feels awkward like a one-night stand that won’t leave. I want to scream, “I can’t go. You’re the one who asked me to be your daughter’s nanny.”

I should have known last night wasn’t what I made it out to be. Roman’s right. I deserve a nine-to-five man who will treat me like a queen every minute of the day, not just in the heat of sex.

Now I just have to make myself believe it.