Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sometimes I hated being right.
And this was definitely one of those times.
Because that kiss? With Bryn? Fucking incredible.
But she was drunk, and this was fake.
Unfortunately, my body didn’t know any of that. And now I was hard and praying it was dark enough no one had noticed just how much I’d enjoyed being pressed up against her.
“You know I can walk, right?” she joked, her arms still around my neck, her head resting against my shoulder.
“Can you?” I asked, noticing she’d made no effort to move. She seemed surprisingly content in my arms, and my chest puffed up with pride. “You had quite a few drinks.”
“Not that many,” she said, drawing out her words in a lazy tone.
“Enough.”
Enough to lower her inhibitions. Enough to play truth or dare. Enough to smile and let go.
“We’re almost there,” I murmured against her head, not wanting to let her go.
I could tell she was tired. It was in the way she rested against me, her limbs heavy with fatigue. The fact that she hadn’t put up more of a fight about being carried.
After that, she was quiet, unusually so. And I worried that she regretted it. But hell, she’d sunk down onto my lap, seducing me. Kissing me.
And somehow, instead of being happy that I was right about the kiss, I was angry. With myself, for waiting so long. Mad that for Bryn, at least, it was fake.
But a part of me couldn’t help but wonder, was the kiss fake? Because it certainly didn’t feel fake.
I thought back to what she’d confessed at the beginning of the game.
I’ve been lying about our relationship, saying that we were just friends when we’re so much more.
I was twisting myself in knots, trying to figure out what was real and what wasn’t. If this was all an act, she was very convincing. I found myself questioning every look, every touch.
“Bear,” she mused. Her speech was sluggish—either from drowsiness or alcohol, maybe both.
“Yeah, angel?” I asked.
“Are you okay?”
“What makes you think I wouldn’t be?” I held on to her while grabbing my phone to unlock the door.
“I, um, I didn’t know what to expect, and I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable? I nearly laughed aloud. “That game of truth or dare was honestly kind of tame, compared to some of the shit I saw as a rookie.”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cringe.”
“It’s best to just forget about it,” I said. I certainly had. Though I wouldn’t be forgetting that kiss anytime soon—or ever.
Once we were inside, I crossed the bungalow and set her gently on the bed. She flopped backward as I moved about the room, plugging in her phone, grabbing some water and painkillers for her nightstand. She was so still and so quiet, I had to wonder if she’d fallen asleep.
I only wished I were half as tired as she, but I was fucking wired after that kiss. The entire evening, really.
It was so nice to be away from LA. Away from overzealous Hawks fans. Here, no one seemed to know who I was. Or if they did, they didn’t care.
But it was so much more than that. I’d been able to let down my guard with Bryn as well. She might think it was all part of the act, but it was so nice to finally allow myself to look at her, touch her, dance with her, and not have to hold myself back.
I’d nursed two drinks the entire night, not enough to get buzzed. I’d wanted to keep an eye on Bryn. I’d wanted her to feel safe to let go and have fun.
And she had. I mean, that dance… Holy fuck, could she move. She’d had me completely under her spell, along with everyone else. And while I hated that she’d performed for anyone but me, I loved seeing her embrace her sensuality and confidence.
Bryn groaned, attempting to sit up. “I can’t sleep in this dress. And my feet and legs are all sandy. I need a shower.”
Since I wasn’t willing to go digging through her stuff for another pair of those skimpy pajamas, and my self-control was already hanging on by a thread, I grabbed a clean T-shirt from my bag and tossed it to her. “Here.”
“Mm.” She held it close, snuggling it as she sniffed the cotton. “It smells like you.”
She held up the shirt, looking at the front. “Wait.” She scrunched up her nose. “Isn’t this your lucky shirt?”
She didn’t wait for my confirmation, merely folded it nicely and placed it gently on the bed. “I can’t wear that. I know how superstitious hockey players are. What if I mess up your mojo?”
She was the reason it was lucky. But she didn’t know that.
“Not possible,” I said. “Now put it on so we can go to sleep.”
She seemed to hesitate, and then she asked, “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
She watched me a moment longer, perhaps waiting for me to change my mind. Then she pulled my shirt on over her dress, her arms disappearing into the sleeves. After performing some complicated-looking maneuver, she stood, wriggling before she flung her dress aside.
I chuckled, mostly to hide my reaction to how good she looked in my shirt. Toned thighs peeking out from beneath the hem. Smooth skin that I was dying to touch. “That was impressive.”
“Bear, I’ve got moves you’ve never seen.” She tried to wink, but it looked more like she had something in her eye. Yeah…she was definitely tipsy.
“Mm.” I crossed my arms over my chest, staring down at her as I tried not to laugh. “Is that so.”
I didn’t doubt it, especially after her performance.
But now was definitely not the time to be thinking about that, especially when I was going to share a bed with her.
And she was drunk. Drunk—or tired enough—that her eyes were closing while she swayed on her feet.
Considering how late we’d stayed up last night and how late it was now, it was probably a combination of the two.
“Take these,” I said, handing her the bottle of water and some pain relievers.
She thanked me, then swallowed them down.
“All right. Time for bed,” I said, pointing at the mattress.
She scrunched up her face. “I don’t want to get sand in the bed.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “Come on.” I lifted her into my arms once more.
I carried her to the bathroom and set her down gently on the side of the tub. I started the water, checking the temperature until it was nice and warm.
She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes closed. “Your shirt is comfy. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, biting back a comment about how good it looked on her. “Are you going to be okay in here for a sec if I go change?”
“Mm-hmm.” She hummed, bringing my shirt up to her nose, using it to cover her mouth.
Unable to resist, I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll be quick.”
I jogged into the bedroom, stripping down to my boxer briefs before slipping into some athletic shorts.
When I returned to the bathroom, she’d turned so her feet were now soaking in the water, and her back was to me.
I grabbed one of the complimentary makeup remover wipes from the counter before switching off the water and setting a towel beside her.
I told myself to take a step back, to leave, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Instead, I stood behind her, smoothing my hand over her hair.
She let her head fall back against my chest as I continued my ministrations, enjoying the way the silky strands flowed through my fingers.
Watching her whip it around as part of her “audition” had been hot.
But getting to spoil her after a long day, seeing her like this—unguarded and relaxed—was just as alluring, if not more so.
“That feels nice,” she said.
Encouraged to continue, I started massaging her scalp, pleasure unfurling inside me as her shoulders relaxed. When she moaned, my cock definitely took notice. I had to stop and step back so I wouldn’t poke her in the back with my hard-on.
I cleared my throat. “You should get to bed, and I need to rinse my feet. Are you ready to get out?”
She patted the edge of the tub, peering up at me with the sweetest expression. “Join me. Please?”
That “please” was my undoing. I adjusted myself, silently willing my erection to go down.
“Here,” I said, handing her the package of wipes as a way to distract myself. Bryn had yet to take off her makeup, and I had a feeling she’d feel better if she did.
She shook her head, eyes closed. “I want to. But too tired.”
Don’t do it. Don’t…
“Do you want me to help you?” I asked.
Her head bobbed slowly. I removed a wipe from the package, the crinkle of the container obscenely loud in the quietness of the bathroom.
I brushed her hair aside, tucking it behind her ear. She opened her eyes, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. She licked her lips, and I wondered if she was thinking about our kiss. I certainly was.
I cupped her jaw to hold her steady. I felt as if my heart might pound out of my chest. We were so close. And this was so…intimate.
“I don’t deserve you,” she whispered as I smoothed the makeup wipe along her skin.
She had it all wrong.
“You deserve everything.” And I wanted to be the one to give it to her.
She shifted so her hand was on my thigh. “Thank you.”
I stilled, wondering if her hand placement was accidental or intentional. But one look at Bryn reminded me how tired she was, so I pushed those questions aside. I took my time, cleaning her forehead, then her cheeks. I catalogued each freckle, every contour of her face.
“Close your eyes,” I rasped, feeling as if my control were slipping away the longer we stayed here.
She did as I’d asked, and I was so damn tempted to kiss her again. Every muscle in me was tight, and it took enormous willpower not to close that gap and press my lips to hers. But then she swayed, and I remembered how tired she was and how much rum she’d consumed.
“There you go.” I cleared my throat. “Now I need to wash off my feet so I don’t get sand in the bed.”
“Exactly.” She straightened, removing her hand from my thigh. “Because that’s gross.”
“But letting a dog sleep in bed with you isn’t?” I teased, knowing she’d been the first to cave when it came to that rule.