31. Emma

As Taran's fingers and lips work their magic, my mind short-circuits. His touch is confident and electric, sending tingles all over as his hands roam over my body.

I can't believe I'm doing this—kissing the enemy and loving every fucking second of it, mere days after shagging Lachlan behind a pub. It's reckless, insane, and what the fuck is wrong with me? But the way Taran looks at me, like I'm the only person in his universe right now, it's enough to make any sensible thoughts evaporate.

His shirt is hanging open and I let my hands explore the expanse of his chest and abs. The feel of his toned muscles under my fingertips is intoxicating.

"So," Taran murmurs against my lips, his voice low and husky, "does this mean I can show you my cock in person?" His smirk turns into laughter as he realises how completely ridiculous that sounds.

I laugh despite myself, because for all his bravado, there's a cheekiness to him that's utterly charming. "You're assuming I want to see it."

"You're grinding down on it and making it want to be seen," he points out.

I press my lips together to hide the smile that wants to burst free. "Alright, maybe I am a bit curious. But only because I want to know if that was yours or some porn actor you screenshot from Pornhub."

He nearly chokes on his snort of disbelief. "Oh, you're fucking in for it now, Thornton, daring to cast my cock into doubt."

He lifts me up effortlessly, standing with me in his arms as if I weigh nothing. Even though I expect him to stagger under my weight, he doesn't. He carries me to his bedroom, and I curse myself for doing this. Why, oh, why am I being so wanton around these gorgeous men? It's like they've brainwashed me.

He places me lightly on an enormous bed, and steps back, his hands on his belt, a wicked smile on his face.

"Prepare to eat your words, Thornton." His fingers deftly work the leather through the loops, sending a clinking sound through the air as the metal buckle taps against each pass.

I prop myself on my elbows, watching him with anticipation and disbelief. "Is this really happening?"

Taran nods, his smile growing wider. "This is definitely happening." With a flourish, he drops his trousers and stands before me, going commando, which would thrill Anna to bits. The sight steals my breath away; there's no mistaking that it's all him.

"Well," I manage to say after a moment, my voice just above a whisper, "that's definitely not from Pornhub."

He steps out of his trousers and kicks them aside, ripping his shirt off as well before crawling onto the bed, a predator closing in with hunger in his eyes.

"You have no idea what you do to me, Thornton." His mouth claims mine again, fierce and possessive. His hands roam over me with a sense of ownership that should scare me, but instead thrills me to my core. I feel like he's marking every inch of me as his territory, and the thought sends a rush of lust straight to my pussy.

But something, something holds me back.

This is too fast. After the mistake I made with Lachlan, this is something I need to think about.

"Taran," I say, pressing my hands on his chest and feeling terrible for leading him on.

"Too fast?" he murmurs.

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

His expression softens, and he rolls off me.

I sit up, tugging down my dress and trying to collect myself. "I really am sorry. I don't normally do things like this."

Taran sits up beside me, a genuine smile smoothing the lines of concern on his face. "I get it, Thornton. No pressure. We'll go at your pace."

"I should go," I say.

"Stay?" he asks quickly. "Not for sex, just… let's just backtrack a bit."

"Okay," I say, comfortable with that idea. "As long as you get dressed."

He snickers. "Do I have to?"

"Yes!"

We both laugh as he rolls off the bed and grabs a pair of joggers, which he puts on, but no shirt, which is killing me here.

I stare at the ceiling as he lies down next to me and does the same. It's a comfortable silence that makes me blurt out, "I'm scared."

He turns his head as I glare mortified at the light fitting. "What of?"

Sighing, I turn my head to stare into those eyes that light a fire in my pussy and all other parts of me. "Of being a failure."

"Why would you think that?"

"I don't know the first thing about ice hockey. I'm trying. I'm learning but fuck, it's hard, and I'm really starting to wonder if I will ever get it."

"Why do you need to know anything about hockey?" he asks, eyes narrowing in what appears to be confusion.

I let out an unladylike guffaw. "Because I own this team! Why else?"

He purses his lips and shakes his head as he props himself up on his elbow. "So? You're the owner, Emma. You don't need to know anything about the game. You need to know about figures and profits and loss and how to get bums on seats."

"No, it doesn't work that way. My dad was hands-on. He knows the game inward and outward. He was at every game."

"And? I'm still not seeing the connection. He was hands-on because hockey is his life. He played it, he managed it, he eventually owned it. So what? You are not him. You are not playing, you are not managing this team. You own it. You can make your own rules for this, Red. Why are you putting so much pressure on yourself?"

I stare at him, tears pricking my eyes, then I sit up, and with an ugly sob, I let them fall. "Because everyone is telling me I need to know this shit!"

"I'm telling you, you don't."

He sits up as well, and I pull myself together enough to speak, brushing the tears away. "Thank you, Taran," I say, turning to him, tears still pooling against my will. "You have no idea how much it means to me you saying all of that."

"Hey, come here," he says with a little laugh and wraps his arms around me. "You are putting way too much pressure on yourself, and you're letting others dictate to you how you run this team. I won't accept that, Red. This is your show; you run it in whatever way you want. If that means you never go to a game, so what?"

"I will be crucified," I snuffle into his bare chest.

"Maybe. Okay, so go to the games and fake it til you make it, right?"

I cling to him, and all my fear just melts away. He is right. I've had everyone telling me to learn this, learn that, do this, do that when all I needed to focus on was the business, not the game. "Right." I snuffle again, and he pulls back to tilt my head up.

"You've got this, Emma. I believe in you."

"Thank you, Taran," I say again. "I didn't know how much I really needed to have someone tell me that, and I'm sorry for blubbering all over you." I run my hands over his chest to wipe away my tears, hoping I didn't snot all over him as well.

"Anytime, Thornton. I'm on your side despite being on the other side." He chuckles slightly, and I smile.

We lie back down, and I place my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "I hope you're right and that I can succeed at this."

"I have no doubts. You are an amazing woman, Emma. You have such a big heart. You are the total opposite of me, but maybe that's why I'm so drawn to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm guarded," he says slowly. "All my life, I've had women go after me for the wrong reasons. Money, their fifteen minutes, just to say they dated a hockey player… sure, maybe some of them might've been genuinely interested in me, but I never felt it. Not really. It made me not want to go any deeper. One night, a casual fling, that was enough for me to not get hurt."

"And now?" I ask cautiously.

"Now I want to dive in headfirst with you. You are beautiful and strong, funny and cute, and when you were vulnerable, told me your fears, and cried all over me, I think I fell a little bit in love with you."

I freeze.

So does he.

"I don't get why you say that," I venture after a pause. "I'm not exactly an oil painting. Even more so compared to you."

"Hey," he says, shifting so he can lift my chin to meet his gaze again. "You are gorgeous, and one day, I hope you will see yourself through my eyes. You are all woman, Emma Thornton, and I'm lucky to be spending this time with you. You've been with the wrong guys if they made you feel anything other than perfect."

I let out a small sob again and smile. "You're a bit of a catch, you know that?"

He snickers. "I'm just telling the truth."

We settle back down again, and I smile against his warm skin. He is extraordinary. No man has ever made me feel as safe or as special as he has in the space of a few minutes. I close my eyes and let myself drift off, knowing he will be there in the morning with his wicked smile and beautiful words.