Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Kaden
What If This Is Real?
As our breathing slowly steadies, I keep Valentina close, her body warm and soft against mine. She’s still straddling my lap, her forehead resting on my shoulder. I can feel the faint rhythm of her heartbeat, slowing bit by bit, syncing with mine.
I thread my fingers through her hair, now a wild mess thanks to . . . well, us. The delicate scent of her perfume mixes with the musk of our recent lovemaking, filling the car in a way that’s downright intoxicating. It makes me want to dive back in, but there’s something I need to say first.
“Valentina,” I murmur, tilting her chin up until her gaze meets mine. Her eyes are still heavy with pleasure, her lashes fluttering slightly, but there’s something else too—a flicker of hesitation, uncertainty maybe.
I don’t give myself time to overthink it. I take a deep breath, my grip firm but gentle as I hold her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over her flushed cheeks.
“I need you to understand something,” I say, my voice rough but steady.
She nods, her gaze locked on mine. Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak, just waits for me to keep going.
“I . . .” I start, my throat tightening. “What we have—it’s special. It’s real. And I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
Her eyes widen slightly, the tiniest gasp escaping her lips. There’s a mix of surprise and something softer—hope maybe—playing across her face. It’s all the encouragement I need.
“You see me,” I continue, my voice quieter now but no less intense. “Not the hockey player. Not the son of sports legends. You see me. And I fucking trust you, Valentina. I don’t trust easily, you know that, but with you . . . I do.”
Her hands come to rest on mine, her fingers curling around them as if grounding herself. Her lips tremble, like she’s on the verge of saying something, but I keep going, needing to get this out before I lose my nerve.
“I’m falling in love with you,” I admit, the words tumbling out like they’ve been waiting forever. “I know this started as fake. A fake shot at a better career. A fake deal to clean up my image, to make me look like a better hockey player, a better person. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being fake for me. This is real, Valentina. You’re real. And this—us—could be everything.”
Her breath catches, and I see the shimmer of tears in her eyes, though she doesn’t let them fall. I lean closer, my voice dropping to a near whisper.
“Please,” I murmur, my thumbs brushing soothing patterns along her cheeks. “Give me the chance to win your heart. To prove that this isn’t just some PR stunt anymore. It’s a real shot at happiness—for me, for you, for us.”
She blinks, her lips curving into a soft smile, and for a split second, the iron grip on my chest loosens. But she doesn’t answer right away, and the silence stretches just long enough for my pulse to kick up again. I wait, holding my breath, every nerve in my body on edge, praying she’ll say something—anything—that doesn’t break me.
“I don’t know what to say,” she begins, her voice soft, almost hesitant. Her gaze drops to my chest, then flickers back up to meet mine. “You’re . . . this incredible man. Strong, determined, a little rough around the edges but with this surprising tenderness that catches me off guard. And I . . .” She swallows hard, her fingers trembling slightly where they rest on my wrists. “I just started working on myself.”
I frown, the tension knotting tighter in my stomach. She’s going to say no, isn’t she? She’s going to tell me she’ll never love me, never give me a chance. Go fuck yourself, Kaden Crawford. You’ll never make it into my lineup.
She takes a shaky breath and continues. “Sure, I went to therapy when Steve served me with the divorce papers. I grieved the loss, or at least I thought I did. But the truth is, I didn’t heal—I just put up a shield around my heart and decided it was safer to never fall again.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to react. I don’t want to scare her off, but fuck, the thought of her not letting me in . . . it’s unbearable.
“But let me tell you something,” she says, her voice softening as a faint smile tugs at her lips. “You’re damn good at this whole ‘breaking down walls’ thing. You’ve chipped away at the ice I’ve been clinging to since the divorce, Kaden. That’s why I’m back in therapy. I’m working on me. And, yes, I’m one hundred percent attracted to you.” Her smile widens slightly, a teasing glint in her eyes, but it fades as her expression turns serious again. “But I need more time—time to figure out who I am before I let myself fall again.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut and a flicker of hope all at once. She doesn’t say no, but she doesn’t say yes, either. It’s a fucking limbo I’m not used to, and I hate it. Still, I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Okay.”
She tilts her head, studying me with those deep, soulful eyes that seem to see right through me. “Do you trust me?” she asks, her voice quiet but laced with something deeper—something that demands an honest answer.
I don’t hesitate. “Yeah, I trust you,” I say, my voice rough around the edges. “But it’s not easy for me. Trust isn’t exactly my strong suit, you know? Everyone who’s ever been close to me has wanted something—money, fame, a connection to my dads. So yeah, it scares the hell out of me to trust you, but I do.”
Her fingers tighten around mine, her gaze softening. “Trust me that I won’t let you fall alone. Just . . . give me time. I want to feel like I’ve earned the right to fall in love again.”
I nod slowly, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. “I’ll wait,” I say, my voice quieter now but no less firm. “As long as it takes, Valentina. I’ll fucking wait. Just don’t shut me out.”
Her lips curve into a small, genuine smile, and she leans forward, resting her forehead against mine. “I’m not shutting you out. I promise. Just . . . be patient with me, okay?”
For a moment, I close my eyes, soaking in her nearness, the feel of her against me, the promise in her words. When I open them again, she’s watching me, her gaze steady, waiting for something—maybe waiting for me to figure out how the hell to string together a coherent sentence.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling loudly. “I can be patient,” I mutter, my voice low and rough around the edges. “Probably not well. I mean, let’s be honest: I’m a fucking disaster in that department. But for you? Yeah, I’ll do it.”
Her lips curve into a soft smile, one that hits me square in the chest like a goddamn freight train. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely louder than the space between us.
Before I can overthink it—or fuck it up—she leans in, and her lips meet mine.
It’s not fireworks; it’s a full-on explosion. The kind that knocks the wind out of your lungs and leaves you scrambling to find solid ground. Her hands slide up to my shoulders, her touch warm and grounding, and for a moment, the world goes quiet.
Just her, just this.
And for once, I don’t have a single sarcastic comment to ruin it.