Chapter 21 #2
“What if it doesn’t ruin it? What if it’s actually better? Aren’t you sick of sneaking around? Frasier’s been really patient, but keeping this secret might be hurting him. Don’t you want to go to his games?”
I swallowed hard. I hated the idea of hurting Frasier, but the games were a sticking point for me.
Because, of course, I wanted to support Frasier.
But I also didn’t know how to do that without feeling as if I were betraying Derek.
And I was afraid that if I voiced that aloud, no one would understand.
“Bryn?” she asked in a gentle tone, stepping closer to place her hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I—” The words got stuck in my throat. “I want to go to the games, but it’s complicated.”
She nodded, patiently waiting for me to elaborate.
“This is going to sound ridiculous, but whose jersey would I even wear?”
“Only you can answer that.” She smiled then, guiding me back inside. “But I’m sure Kylie would have a few ideas.”
We headed back into the house. I talked with Georgia and Kylie for a while longer, grateful for my friends.
I’d known they would never judge me, even as I grappled with the complicated feelings that accompanied grief.
Instead, they’d been compassionate and supportive, listening and helping me work through my thoughts.
By the time I wished Georgia and Kylie a good night, I felt better. I might not have a concrete plan for how to juggle my past with my present, but I knew that Frasier was my future.
I headed upstairs to get ready for bed. After a long, hot shower, I felt even more relaxed.
Maybe I didn’t have to have all the answers so long as I kept an open mind.
I’d just finished slipping into my pjs when my phone rang.
I reached for it, smiling when I saw Frasier’s name on the screen with a request for FaceTime.
I hit the button to connect the call and rested my phone against the bathroom mirror so I could see him while getting ready for bed.
“Congratulations!” I beamed at him, and he smiled back at me from his hotel room. He was shirtless, and the lighting was low, almost as if he was getting ready for bed too.
“Thanks, angel. I take it you watched the game.”
“Of course.” I reached for my under-eye cream, dabbing it onto my skin. “You had some really nice saves in the second period. And that final attempted goal—” I clutched my chest. “Ugh. That was a nail-biter. Good save, Bear.”
He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, now damp from a shower. “Thanks. Doing some self-care?”
“Yes.” I smirked as I applied my lifting oil. “But not like that.”
“Mm.” He leaned his head back against the upholstered headboard, his lips curving into a smile. His bare chest was on display, and I wanted to run my fingers down the muscles. Rest my head over his heart. “It could be like that. I did just win a game. Feels like we should celebrate.”
“You didn’t want to go out with the team?” I applied my last layer of oil. I stood back, peering at my reflection. I looked like a glazed donut. Perfect.
“A few of the younger guys went out, but I didn’t feel like it.”
I wasn’t surprised that Frasier had elected to stay in, but something in his tone caught my attention. I leaned closer to the screen, noticing the dark circles beneath his eyes. “You okay?”
I knew the games and all the travel were physically exhausting, but this seemed to go deeper than that. At the very least, I figured he’d have been happy that the team had won. But he seemed distracted, down or something.
“Jules checked himself in to rehab,” he said, surprising me.
Frasier hadn’t mentioned his brother in weeks.
The last I’d heard, Hudson Security had worked with the local authorities to conduct a sting operation.
The dealer had been arrested, and we kept hoping Frasier’s brother would finally get the help he needed.
But I’d been afraid to mention it, taking the lead from Frasier.
“That’s good, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I just hope it sticks.”
“Me too.” I knew how painful this was for Frasier, and I wished I could crawl through the screen and hug him.
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” I grinned. “And I’m counting down the days until you’re home again.”
“Me too.” He tucked his arm beneath his head. “Thanks for the good-luck note, by the way. And the self-care kit.”
“You’re welcome.” I beamed. “I hope you liked it.”
His eyes were locked on mine when he said, “I loved it.” And it felt as if he was saying so much more. After a long pause, he asked, “How are Biscuit and Bacon? Behaving, hopefully.”
I smiled. “They’re good. Biscuit is sniffing around downstairs, and Bacon was already getting into bed when I hopped in the shower.”
“I wish I were there. Cuddling in bed with you.”
“Is that all you wish we were doing?” I teased.
“No. If I were there, you’d already be naked.”
I took a few steps back so he could see more of me. And then I dragged my silk tank top over my head, casting it aside. When I looked at the screen again, Frasier’s eyes had gone wide. I turned so my back was to him, taking my time to tease him as I lowered my matching silk shorts.
“Better?” I asked.
“Fuck yes,” he said, scrambling to remove his own shorts. “Turn around. Show me everything.”
It was his first away game, our first time being apart since we’d started dating. And it was the first time I’d dared to do something like this.
I turned slowly, running my hands over my body and imagining they were his. My mind went back to Allie’s bachelorette party and that night on the beach. Then, as now, his eyes were hooded as he watched me.
“That’s it, angel.” He adjusted his phone, letting me see how hard he was, see the way he was gripping his cock. “You know I love it when you give me a show.”
My lips curved upward, and I knew he was thinking about that night too. I dragged my hand down my neck, over my breasts, goose bumps rising in its wake. As he watched me, I felt sexy and desired.
“Need you, Bryn,” he rasped, fisting his cock, giving it a few lazy strokes.
“Mm. Don’t stop,” I said, referring both to his words and what he was doing with his hand. I bit down on my lip. Watching him was hot.
“Look at what you do to me,” he hissed, letting me see just how aroused he was. The low lighting cast shadows over his chest and abs, his muscles clenching with every pump, every groan.
“So hot,” I whispered, as if in a trance.
“Get on the bed. I want to see you—all of you.”
I grabbed the phone and carried it with me to the bed. “Tell me what you wish we were doing now.”