Chapter 16

Bailey

“Oh, god, baby, no. I would never.”

There was so much sincerity in his eyes as he said it, and his use of the word ‘baby’ made my insides tingle with need and longing and a million other things that were the opposite of what I’d just told him.

I was on the hot mess express tonight, battling disparate emotions and trying to navigate what felt like unfamiliar territory.

Yet I also felt completely at ease having him in my home.

He was nine inches taller and more than a hundred pounds heavier, yet I wasn’t afraid of him. Not even after what had happened with Dirk.

“I don’t trust easily anymore,” I said slowly. “But for some reason I trust you.”

“There’s no way to know where this thing with us is going, not yet anyway, but there are three things I can promise you: I’ll never let you fall. I’ll never let you down. And I’ll never break your heart. Not intentionally anyway.”

Good God, who was this guy and how had no one snatched him up?

I reached up and ran my fingers along his jawline, pausing to stroke a red mark that was obviously going to bruise.

“Does that hurt?” I asked.

“No.”

He didn’t move as I touched him, merely watching me with those striking blue eyes of his. And I took my time, exploring his face as though seeing him with my fingers instead of my eyes.

I was really enjoying touching him.

The scruff on his jaw made me wonder what it would feel like on my thighs. When I traced a line around his lips, I could only imagine what kissing him would be like. Being intimate with him. His body would be a veritable playground of pleasure if I allowed myself to go there.

Not tonight, but maybe in the near future.

I’d thought very little about sex since the accident, but now that this delicious and gentle giant was here in my house, I couldn’t think of much else.

My body was completely on board, but my brain and heart were screaming at me to slow down. This thing between us felt too important to rush.

“Why don’t you get in the hot tub,” I suggested. “If you can help me sit on the edge, I’ll rub your shoulders.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said quickly. “I can?—”

“Tonight is about you,” I said, interrupting him and putting a hand on his chest. “Next time can be about me.”

He smiled. “Deal.”

I stood on the first step of the hot tub, watching as he pulled off his shirt and sweatpants. He wore fitted boxers that showed off every inch of his… package , and I had to avert my eyes in the hopes he wouldn’t see what he was doing to me.

He waded into the water before turning to me questioningly.

“I’ll sit there.” I pointed at the ledge. “Then you can squat down in front of me so I can get to your shoulders.”

“Okay.”

Before I could worry about him seeing my scars, he lifted me by the waist and gently set me on the edge, so my legs were dangling in the water. Then he moved between them, with his back to me, and dropped down.

He’d seen everything and hadn’t reacted.

I didn’t know if this was good or bad but I refused to overthink it.

Not yet.

“This is perfect.” I put my hands on his shoulders, marveling at how broad they were.

I’d always liked big guys, but my last couple of boyfriends had been average size.

There was nothing average about Jensen.

Muscles rippled beneath the skin as I dug my thumbs into them, and he dropped his head to his chest, a soft moan escaping him.

Holy hell, if he kept making sounds like that, I might throw caution to the wind.

He needed me tonight, though.

Not my body, but an emotional connection that might soothe the battered parts of him. And I wasn’t talking about the bruises on his face either. As big and strong as he was on the outside, there was no doubt he was struggling internally. I didn’t have to understand hockey to feel the frustration of the whole team on the ice tonight.

“That feels awesome,” he murmured.

“I’m glad.” I continued kneading and squeezing his neck, shoulders, and upper arms. Then I dragged my fingers up the back of his head, massaging his scalp with the same effort I’d used on his neck and shoulders.

“Fuck, that’s amazing, Bailey.” He shuddered against me, and I paused, running my fingers through his hair.

“Your hair is soft,” I said. “I like touching it.”

“I like you touching me.”

I leaned forward, resting my chin on top of his head and letting my hands fall over his chest. “I don’t know if this was helpful, but I’m happy to listen if you need to vent.”

He closed his hands over mine. “I don’t know what there is to say. I’ve always had a Plan B, you know? If I didn’t get drafted to the NHL, I’d stay in college and get my Master’s. Once I got drafted, I finished my degree so at least I’d have something to fall back on in case I got injured or some other unpredictable thing happened. But I never planned for this. Yes, technically I could leave hockey and get a job in computers, but I’m only twenty-eight. I’m not ready to retire and I’m in great physical shape. It seems unfair that I should be forced out of the sport I love so much.”

“Are you being forced out?”

“No. It’s just a matter of how miserable it is to play here right now.”

“But you don’t want to be traded either.”

He sighed. “No, not really. I guess I’m in limbo, waiting to see what happens with the new owner. If Mrs. Barrowman loses and the boys stay in control, then I’ll have to consider a trade because I don’t think things will improve with them at the wheel. If she wins, then I want to stay and see what happens. If she can turn things around.”

“That makes sense. It’s just hard in the meantime.”

“So fucking hard.”

I leaned back and slid my robe off my shoulders, letting it fall to the ground.

I was wearing a one-piece suit that covered my hips but showed a little cleavage, which was a good compromise in my head.

“Can you help me?” I asked softly.

He turned, his gaze raking over my chest as he reached out to lift me into the water. I found my footing but kept my hands on his arms as we looked at each other. So much eye gazing. If it had been anyone else telling me about it, I might have rolled my eyes. But in this reality—our reality—it was perfect.

I could stare at him all damn day.

“You’re going to have to guide me, Bailey,” he said in a throaty whisper. “I’m okay with no sex, but not touching you the way I want to is killing me.”

“You can…touch me,” I whispered.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes. Please.”

He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving mine as he tilted his head. His mouth grazed mine tentatively at first, as if we needed a few moments to get acquainted. His lips were soft but firm against mine, and he didn’t seem to be in any rush. For such a big guy, he was incredibly tender, one hand resting gently on my waist as he pulled me closer. He teased and nuzzled, using just his lips to press soft kisses and warm caresses over my mouth.

It was intoxicating to be this close to him, to get lost in his touch and allow myself to feel something so sensual.

I opened my mouth in invitation, almost desperate for more, and he lazily complied. The tip of his tongue touched mine, remaining steadfast in taking his time, and there was nothing to do but enjoy the ride. I wasn’t sure of the destination, but that was okay because the journey had been delightful so far.

Finally, he sealed his mouth over mine, taking possession of my tongue and lips as if they’d always belonged to him. I’d never been kissed quite like this, and I leaned into it, giving and taking and enjoying. There had been a part of me that had convinced myself no one would ever touch me like this again, that no one would be able to see beyond the parts of me that were no longer whole in my mind.

Jensen didn’t seem to see what I saw, though.

His touch was genuine, sensual, and gentle, making me greedy for more.

I lifted to my toes, something I could only do because I had him to hold on to and leaned into his kiss. And still, he took his time. Every swirl of his tongue was filled with an unspoken promise, both of what he was holding back and what was to come. The mystery aroused me and his closeness was intoxicating.

“You’re so sweet,” he whispered against my mouth. “I could eat you right up.”

“Mmm.” The soft murmur was all I could manage because my body was on high alert and my heart thundered with excitement.

“Come sit with me,” he said, sinking down and tugging me onto his lap.

Dear god, this position wouldn’t do anything to stall my raging hormones, and being so close to him only intensified my need.

“This is a wonderful way to end a really crappy day,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist as I settled against him.

I felt a moment of guilt, because I’d momentarily forgotten all about my promise to help him relax, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m glad I could help,” I said.

We sat there for a while, enjoying the warmth of the water and our proximity. I felt incredibly lazy and relaxed, more so than I had in a long time, and I mentally embraced it.

“You okay, babe?” he asked after a while, one big hand stroking the outside of my right thigh. Usually, any contact in that area made me uncomfortable, but not with Jensen.

I was enjoying having his hands on me.

And never wanted it to end.

He reached over and poured two glasses of wine, handing one to me before taking one for himself.

“I really needed this tonight,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t realize how stressed out I’ve been until I got here. Gaming used to be how I relaxed, but hanging out with you in a hot tub works way better.”

I smiled, taking a sip of wine. “Agreed. You have no idea how grateful I’ve been for your friendship during the last year. I walked away from almost everything after the accident. My career, most of my friends, even my house. Having you and the others there in the game became a lifeline. The loneliness was becoming unbearable.”

“But why?” he asked. “Why did you have to walk away from your life?”

“The press would have a field day with me, watching me limp, maybe catching sight of my scars, depending on what I was wearing…” I shuddered slightly. “I don’t think I could have taken it.”

“You look beautiful, Bailey,” he said, those magical fingers continuing to stroke my leg.

“What they see in Hollywood isn’t what other people see. There’s a lot to love in the industry, despite the bad rep it gets, but there’s also a reason for that bad rep. Women over thirty are over the hill, anyone who isn’t a size zero is obese, and every single thing you do is scrutinized. I’m already in physical pain—I can’t willingly subject myself to emotional abuse too. I just don’t have it in me.”

“I imagine that’s tough, but it seems to me you’re letting them win.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you walked away and gave up all those things you just mentioned, before the press even said anything. Why do they get to manipulate your life like that?”