Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
WYATT
“How much time do we have left?” Julian asked as he twisted a piece of my hair around his finger.
“Thirty-five minutes.” Time always slipped away with him. It was almost three, and he technically only had half an hour left. “You want to shower?”
“I have a shower at home.” He lay on his back, blue neon washing over his face. Every time we were together, I saw a little more of him. Tonight, he’d been exhausted and sore, which meant I could take my time. Savor him. And I liked that.
“I bet the sunsets from up here are amazing,” he said, nodding to the large windows that made up the west walls of the master suite.
They were. That was why Maverick made sure nothing blocked them.
I watched the bright neon light up the night sky.
Some days when things felt too heavy, I’d pull the pale blue and golden curtain shut.
I didn’t want to be reminded of my past mistakes.
“I hate sunsets.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“Who hates sunsets?”
I let the past slip back. “Uh… no one. Um… the view is why there are so many windows in the suite. The whole hotel is like that. Some magazine said that this was the best view in all of Las Vegas. Most of the construction budget was for the windows. Or so Mavrick says.”
He sat up and grabbed my hand. “Tell me why.”
“I don’t know. I guess windows are expensive. Something about being soundproof or something.” I shrugged.
“Not about the windows. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I said, slipping from the bed and putting on a robe. “Are you sure you don’t want to shower? I could scrub your back.”
“No, I don’t want to shower. Tell me why you hate sunsets.”
“I don’t. I love them.” That didn’t come out as convincing as I had hoped. “It’s nothing.” I forced a smile, picking his shirt up off the ground and shaking it out. “When’s your next game?”
“Why?”
“I’ll watch it.” A flash of blue, then gold neon cut across the room.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I smiled, happy to be off the subject of sunsets and stupid things I’d never say again to a client.
“Come here.” Julian sat on the edge of the bed. I stepped between his legs. He pressed a kiss to my stomach, then lifted his gaze to mine, concern softening his features.
“Why do you hate sunsets?”
I tried to step away, but he held me in place. “Why do you care?”
“Maybe I have some big event planned for you at sunset.”
“Do you?” I ran my fingers through his hair, enjoying the ease at which he was right now.
“That depends. Why do you hate sunsets?” He slid his hand under my robe and up my thigh.
“What would you plan?” I was stepping close to a line I didn’t want to cross with him. The let’s-make-plans-for-the-future line.
He shrugged, pressing another kiss to my bare stomach. “Tell me first.” His eyes looked greener in the low light. “Please.”
Because in the setting South Dakota sun, I had believed the soft words of a green-eyed boy with a pretty smile and honeyed lies.
In the soft pink light, he told me he loved me and always would.
“People romanticize sunsets. Like the beauty at the end of a day means everything will work out. But the promises made in the pink sky mean nothing in the harsh light of the morning. And each sunset is a reminder of how stupid you’ve been. ”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.”
Julian pulled me down so I was straddling him. He brushed the hair from my brow, tracing a finger down my jaw. “I don’t know who he was. But one day I will prove to you that promises can be made and kept in that pink sky.”
I wanted to believe him. But promises made in the blue neon sounded a little like sunset promises. “Oh really? And when are you going to do that? I hear you’re some kind of hockey star.”
“I’ll always have time for you.” His breath was warm on my mouth.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“I will.” He ran a finger across my collarbone. “Tell me something else,” he whispered.
There were things I wanted to tell him. Things I wanted to know about him. But I feared we were getting too close to a line neither of us should cross. “228 is my favorite number.”
He bit his bottom lip, his eyes on my mouth. “Your favorite number is 228?”
“Yeah,” I whispered into his ear, running a finger over the tip of his cock. “I love the way it feels.” And I did. Especially when all 228 pounds of him were pressing down on me. When he pulled me close to him. I didn’t feel so alone with that number around.
* * *
Jackson woke us up two hours after Julian’s time was up.
“I’m not sure when I’ll see you next.” Julian walked into the bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower, his blue-green eyes bright from the lack of sleep.
“My next two games are away. Then I have this thing I have to play Julian Silver for. Can you help me?” He held out his arm for me to do the shirt’s cuffs.
So this was it. The end. I wished I’d known—maybe I would’ve held on tighter. Paid attention to the way being with him felt so I could keep it a little longer.
Maybe it was for the best. Things were getting complicated. With us. With me. He was starting to feel less like a client and more like… Like what? A boyfriend? Girl, grow up. He pays you to have sex, I reminded myself. That was all this ever was.
“It’s okay, Julian. You don’t have to do this.” I forced a smile.
He tipped my chin up. “I don’t have to what?”
“You don’t have to explain why you don’t call anymore.
Why you’ve moved on. That’s the thing about seeing me.
There are no strings. You can come and go as you please.
” I kissed the palm of his hand and stepped away.
“So if in two months you need something, call.” I tossed a pillow on the bed.
“You will have to get retested, fill out all the paperwork again. But there are no hard feelings.”
“Are you breaking up with me because of my game schedule?” He watched me move around the room. “It’s a couple of games. I’m not leaving the country. Okay, I am, but I’m coming back.”
I leveled my gaze at him. I’d give him credit for trying. “No. We can’t break up. You don’t have to explain why we’re ending.” I cringed at how stupid that sounded. We hadn’t started, so there wasn’t really anything to end. “I mean, why you don’t call me anymore.”
Julian picked up his belt and began looping it through the loops. I watched the way his shirt pulled across his chest. I really would miss fucking him. He was so perfect, and I liked being with him. I liked that we could do this. Have these mundane moments.
Julian walked over to me and placed his hands on my hips.
“Have we met? I’m Julian Silver, a professional hockey player who has eighty-two games in the regular season.
That averages out to two to three games a week.
Some of them are in a different country.
” He ducked to meet my gaze. “That means there are weeks I barely see my own bed.”
“Are you mansplaining hockey to me?” I could see a glint in his eyes. Why couldn’t there be something wrong with him? Like he smelled funny or was mean. Something that would make me tell him no more.
“No, I’m explaining this is not the end of us. I will call and text every day if you want.”
“That won’t be necessary. We’re not dating.” I rolled my eyes and stepped away. That word stuck in my throat. I shouldn’t have used it. That word alluded that we had a future.
“Cass. It’s getting late,” Jackson said through the closed door.
“I’ll call you.” Julian pressed a kiss to my forehead and grabbed his jacket.
I followed him out of the bedroom. He and Jackson were talking as Margo walked in.
“Oh shit. Sorry. I thought…” She looked at me, then at Julian. Then to Jackson. “I didn’t know you had a client. I can come back.”
“I was just showing Mr. Silver out.” Jackson nodded as he opened the door for Julian.