Bound and Blitzed (Knoxville Coyotes Football #4)

16. Valentina

Chapter 16

Valentina

He pauses the second the word is out of my mouth.

I feel so guilty, I wish I could die from shame on the spot. Instead, Avery releases his cock, presses his hands to his thighs, and waits. He stares at me, and I fumble my words, knowing he deserves the truth and having no clue how to tell him.

The past flickers through my mind, disorienting and confusing.

Dane’s crooked grin. The way he could make my heart feel like bursting with just one look. The self-doubt that would creep in when I wouldn’t hear from him. And then, that last look. The one before he ruined everything. When his eyes met mine and he looked like he…cared. Like, maybe, he even loved me.

This isn’t that. This isn’t anything like that.

Dane isn’t Avery. I know this. And yet…and yet my chest squeezes and I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Overwhelmed.

“Wait,” I repeat, shaking my head and pressing a hand against Avery’s chest.

Concern flashes in his eyes, turning them stormy. Worried.

He shifts his weight, and I note that his cock, rock hard moments ago, begins to soften.

Panic blazes through me. Then, guilt. Guilt that expands until it’s choking me, threatening to snuff me out.

How can I leave him in this state after everything he just made me feel?

Mere minutes ago, I was soaring. Reaching and cresting and coming apart in the most delicious way imaginable. My body felt worshiped, my mind at ease, and my heart…safe.

And yet…

“I can’t do this with you,” I murmur, unable to meet his eyes.

I don’t want to see the disappointment. The hurt. Maybe even anger? I don’t want to witness Avery’s reaction because I told him to start this. I wanted him to kiss me. And now, I don’t know what the hell I want.

Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I’m in the wrong. I’m the one who feels scattered and emotionally untethered. That’s not fair to Avery.

“Hey,” he murmurs. He moves to the side of the couch, pulls his boxers up, and crouches next to me. “Hey. Lena, look at me.”

I close my eyes, pulling in a deep breath to calm my erratic breathing.

Avery’s fingertips are warm on my chin. I lift my gaze to his and nearly weep at the compassion in his eyes. Understanding I don’t deserve. A steadiness that makes me feel infinitely better and somehow, worse.

“It’s okay,” Avery says sincerely. His expression is open, inviting me in to read his emotions. And they’re not rejection and anger. Or hurt and frustration.

They’re warm and trusting and honest.

“It’s okay,” he repeats. “We don’t have to do this. Not tonight. I didn’t mean to push you or?—”

“You didn’t,” I say, my voice cracking. I sigh and drop my head back, willing the tears to stay in my body and not leak out. Once I’ve collected myself, I meet his eyes again. I pull down my shirt, covering myself. I right my shorts. It’s incredible that all that transpired and somehow, I’m still clothed. Right now, I’m relieved for the layers of clothing, my pajamas, as they make me feel less vulnerable. “I wanted to…I want you and…” I trail off, shaking my head.

Avery is unbothered by my contradicting words. He continues to watch me, to wait for me to gather my thoughts. He’s patient and considerate and… I don’t deserve him. I married a man I never thought I’d feel this much for and the worst part about it is I know I’ll never be good enough to truly be his.

Not when I can’t even have sex with him. Not when the thought of surrendering my body to him completely causes me to react like…this!

But what about your heart? my subconscious hisses.

Dane didn’t just make me feel used physically. He broke something intrinsic inside of me. He shook my foundation, rattled my trust in myself, made me question everything about my interactions with the opposite sex. With men who are elite athletes. With relationships and trust.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Avery. I did,” I say finally.

He disagrees. “There’s nothing wrong about what we did or didn’t do tonight, Valentina. I’m here for whatever you want to give me. Watching you come apart underneath me was a fucking gift and I recognize that this is a big deal for you.”

I force myself to hold his gaze.

“It’s a big deal for me too,” he admits quietly. “Because the feelings I have when I’m with you…they’re new for me. Everything with you feels new. Better.”

“Everything with you feels better too. It’s overwhelming and scary sometimes.”

He frowns. “I don’t want you to feel scared with me.”

I shake my head. “I misspoke. I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of how much I feel for you. This is so new…we’re figuring everything out and…it’s a lot,” I finish lamely.

Tell him about Dane! my mind yells.

But what would I even say? I barely understand the whole of it. And recounting that stretch of months of my life makes me feel fifteen again.

Insecure. Unsteady. Na?ve.

Hopeful in a way I know I’ll never feel again.

“It is a lot,” Avery whispers, brushing my hair away from my face. He gives me a lopsided grin.

“I’m sorry, Avery.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Trust me, tonight was amazing. One of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.”

“For me too,” I murmur.

Avery shifts back to tug up his pants. “Are you tired?”

I want to fib and say yes. I want to escape to our bed, alone, and cry into my pillow until sleep comes.

But I don’t want to lie to him any more than I already have tonight. Well, I haven’t lied per se. I’ve…omitted things. Things that would help him understand me, but things I’m not ready to share.

Instead, I sigh. “No.”

Avery snorts. “Me neither. How about I heat up our hot chocolate and we rewind the movie to wherever we stopped watching?”

“Really?” I tuck my feet beneath me and watch him. “You really want to keep watching the movie?”

He nods, bending to pick up our mugs. “I just want to be with you, Lena. It’s as simple as that.”

I watch as he walks to the kitchen and pops our mugs in the microwave. He’s at ease and comfortable. There are no coils of anger bunching in his shoulder blades. No frustrated twist of his lips. No bolts of judgement in his eyes.

I suck in another breath and release it slowly.

How did I get so lucky? How did I marry a man who would understand my hesitation and not condemn me for it?

Avery returns and passes me a steaming mug of hot cocoa. I smile when I see the fresh handful of marshmallows he dropped on top.

He eases back into the spot next to me. I settle against him.

We rewind the movie and hit play.

As Miracle on 34 th Street resumes, my body relaxes. The hot cocoa warms me up and the taste of chocolate soothes my whirling thoughts.

I let myself melt into Avery’s side. His strength bolsters me, his kindness eases my mind, and his compassion envelops us both.

My eyelids grow heavy. My body is spent from the way Avery coaxed, teased, and pleasured it. My mind is emotionally drained from everything that came before and after our little tryst on the couch. But my heart beats steadily. I know I’m safe.

And that knowledge is a balm to my anxious mind.

At some point, Avery removes the mug from my hand and places it on the coffee table. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. I go willingly.

I fall asleep snuggled up against him. I’m aware of the movie ending, of Avery scooping me up into his arms, of him laying me down in bed and tucking me in.

Then, I sleep. Soundly and deeply.

And when I wake in the morning, I’m ready to tell Avery the truth. At least, as much as I can share. I want to confide in him and do what we promised—to give this a real chance.

Take the next step forward.

“Morning. You sleep okay?” he asks when I pad into the kitchen after a hot shower.

I exfoliated and moisturized, blew out my hair, and took time dressing in wide-legged trousers and a blouse. I’ve put together a professional and sleek look, hoping it will bolster my confidence to have this conversation with Avery.

Consider it my armor but I look like a teacher and right now, that alleviates some of my nerves.

“Yeah,” I say breezily, accepting a mug of coffee from Avery’s outstretched hand. “I’m surprised you’re home.”

He smirks. “I already hit the gym and came back.”

“Wow,” I remark, glancing at the clock. It’s nearly noon. “I didn’t realize I slept so late.”

“You needed the rest.”

“I guess so,” I agree, knowing my mind needed it more than my body.

I take my coffee mug into the living room and sit on the couch, tucking one leg underneath me. I’m aware of Avery watching me; I can feel his steady stare between my shoulder blades.

I glance at him and pull in a fortifying breath. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” he says, looking almost relieved. He takes a plush armchair and leans back, crossing one ankle over his opposite knee. His attention is on me and under his scrutiny, I fidget.

Silence stretches between us as I gather my thoughts.

“Listen, Lena, if this is about last night?—”

“It is,” I interject, nodding.

Avery grasps the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry if I?—”

“You didn’t,” I cut him off again. God, I just need to get this out. Come clean, admit the truth, move on.

The problem is, I’ve never told anyone about Dane. Not even my sister.

I suck in another breath. “I want to tell you something I’ve never told anyone, something I’ve never even said out loud before,” I start.

Avery sits straighter in his chair. His gray eyes flash, a foreboding storm gathering on the horizon.

“Last night, I freaked out,” I admit, offering a shrug. “I…I’ve only ever been with one guy. Ever.”

Avery’s eyes widen and he pulls in a breath. His eyes track over my expression, as if searching for clues, but he doesn’t say anything.

I continue. “I was fifteen and?—”

His eyes fall closed, and he brings his fist to his mouth. I note the defeat that flashes across his face.

“No, it wasn’t…I wasn’t taken advantage of or anything.” I pause, rethinking everything that transpired between Dane and me. “Well, maybe I was but not the way you think.”

“Lena, please, were you hurt?”

“Not physically,” I whisper.

Avery shifts forward, his feet planted on the ground now, his elbows resting on his knees. “What happened?”

“I was dating this guy. I use the term dating loosely. He was one of Ale’s teammates and we were sneaking around. Keeping things quiet until we told my brother. He was my first and I…” I blush at the reminders of myself at that age. “I was caught up in him. Like madly, wildly, head over heels. I lied to my parents and Carla to see him. I started sneaking around, dressing differently, anything to make him want to be with me.”

Avery works a swallow. “You were fifteen.”

“Nearly sixteen.”

“How old was he?”

“Nineteen.”

Avery doesn’t comment but his face hardens. A tick pops in his jawline. He stares at me to continue.

“I thought we were really together, you know? Like boyfriend and girlfriend. I thought he was it for me.” I shake my head. “I was stupid.”

“No, you weren’t. He was a fucking predator.”

“No.” I shake my head, recalling Dane’s blond curls and playful blue eyes. “He wasn’t…I mean, he was young too. We were getting ready to tell my brother. My family. He kept saying just one more week, after the next big game, excuses. And then, one night, Ale was having friends over and he showed up with a girl. A beautiful, blond girl who was obviously older than me. She was mature and sophisticated. And when he introduced her, he called her his girl. She sat on his lap with my brother and all their friends around them. And…” God the next part makes me cringe. “As I was crying in the bathroom, feeling like my heart broke, she walked in. And when she saw me, she was so nice. She offered me one of her lip glosses. She didn’t even know why I was crying but she correctly assumed it was about a boy. And she said, ‘Never give them the satisfaction of knowing they hurt you.’ It was good advice really, but at that moment it gutted me.” The memories of that night cut through my mind with a vividness that surprises me. The events are so clear, so sharp, I feel their effects twist my stomach and pierce my chest.

“He was playing you,” Avery mutters, disgusted.

“Yes.”

Avery nods to himself. And then, he looks right at me, his eyes alert, almost wild. “Who was it? Who is he?”

I feel the blood drain from my face. I was so caught up in recounting my story, I forgot that he’d want a name. Of course he would!

I stall. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

My reply makes the anger in Avery’s eyes multiply. “Give me a name, Lena.”

I sigh heavily. And then, on an exhale, “Dane. Dane Thomson.”

“Son of a bitch,” Avery mutters, standing up and walking around the living room.

“You know him?”

“Yeah, I know him,” he spits, shaking his head.

The waves of disgust rolling off Avery’s shoulders slam into me and drag me under. My shoulders cave inwards and for a moment, I regret telling him anything. “Are…are you mad at me?” I hate how small my voice sounds.

“What?” Avery turns. When he reads my expression, his falls and horror floods his eyes. “Sweetheart, no.” He drops to his knees in front of me and reaches for my hands. “Valentina, of course not. I just, I hate that any man, especially a dickwad like Thomson, took advantage of you. Hurt you. And made you question yourself.”

“I never said?—”

“You haven’t had sex with another man for a decade.”

I close my eyes. “I was scared.”

“I know. And I don’t want you to be.” His thumb brushes over the back of my hand.

I force my eyes open. “I’m not with you. I feel safe. But last night, I…I freaked out.”

“Of course you did,” he murmurs softly. “I’m glad you told me, Lena. There’s no rush here.” He gestures between us. “I just want to be with you, to see where this can go. And I want to shoulder your burdens with you.”

I nod. “You already are.”

He tilts his head, his eyes sad. “I hope so, babe.” He leans closer and presses a tender kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he disagrees, shifting to sit beside me on the couch. Avery wraps an arm around my shoulder, and I snuggle into his side.

We sit like that, wrapped up in each other and drinking our nearly afternoon coffees for a long time.

Until my phone rings.

I glance at the incoming video call and wince. “It’s my papá.”

Avery exhales. “Ready to talk to them? Or do you want to wait?”

“No.” I’m done putting things off. “I’m ready.”

“Then let’s tell your family we’re married.” Avery smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I know my story about Dane weighs on his mind.

Still, he takes my hand, pulls me back to his side, and stares at my phone screen as I slide my finger across the bar and accept the call.