Chapter 10 Joanie
Joanie
I rinsed my mouth with the too-astringent hotel mouthwash.
It tasted moderately better than Fizzz, but not by much.
Mirror girl stared back at me in the silver glass above the sink.
Yellow plaid pajamas clung to my clammy skin after my shower, and my face shone with moisturizer.
These weren’t the cool or sexy pajamas that you wore in front of a new bed partner.
They were the boring, practical ones you wore when you were having a normal night and didn’t expect to be sharing a bed with an insanely attractive man. It’s not like I owned any other kind.
Maybe Gerard was right about me. Vanilla pajamas for a vanilla girl.
Now Kieran would see me in these. He’d be used to sharing his bed with women who wore skimpy French negligees.
Women who didn’t have lists of all the sexy things everyone else had done and they hadn’t.
Lana’s Granny Vera probably had racier nightwear.
Kieran could have a laugh about these pajamas with Gerard when he got home.
This doesn’t have to be awkward. Just act normal and get into bed with your insanely attractive work colleague.
I took a deep breath, unlocked the en suite door, and tried to walk as casually as I could.
Mercifully, the room was dim. Low light spilled from the lamp on my bedside cabinet.
Kieran sat up in bed, scrolling his phone.
His dark hair was wet from his shower, and his navy T-shirt strained against his broad shoulders.
He kept his gaze fixed on his screen as I scurried past him.
I darted under the covers and positioned myself right on the edge of my side.
“Shall I turn out the light?” I asked.
“Please.” He put his phone on the bedside cabinet and rested his head on the pillow.
I clicked the lamp off. Darkness flooded the room. Tension crackled all over my skin.
Kieran’s low voice drifted in the silence. “Give me a whack if I snore and I’ll stop.”
“Should I expect you to snore?”
“I hope not. What about you?”
“No, I’ve been told I’m very easy to sleep with.” A cringe ran through me. That had come out wrong. “I mean, I’m easy to share a bed with. I’m not a duvet hog.”
“Good to know.”
The mattress dipped with his weight as he shifted onto his side. His clean scent of shower gel hit me.
“Goodnight,” he said.
“Goodnight.”
I closed my eyes, but my heart was pounding.
My breathing felt overly loud and unnatural in the silence.
Kieran probably shared his bed with virtual strangers most nights.
A man in my bed was a novel experience. I was balanced so precariously at the edge of my side of the bed that, knowing my luck, I’d fall out and tear a ligament in my other knee.
Still, I was stuck here dangling over the edge.
Every movement made me self-conscious. What impression would it give if I moved closer?
An odd tension coiled in my belly. Exhaustion had made it hard to keep my eyes open when I was downstairs in the foyer, and now I was wide awake.
I dared to shuffle the slightest bit away from the edge of the bed.
A faint groan rang out from the mattress.
The heat of Kieran’s body warmed me. I couldn’t make out his shape, but I felt his closeness like electricity sizzling over my skin.
Kieran’s curious whisper broke the roaring silence. “I suppose you were used to all this stuff growing up? Fans. Private jets. Fancy hotels.”
“Not really. Dad took me on tour when I was young, but I don’t remember much beyond tour buses and crowds.
Mum let me stay home for a while, before she got fed up and went back to Paris and modeling.
I stayed at home with the nanny. A tutor came to the house for me and my siblings.
Most of the time I was alone. I’m better on my own. ”
“How so?”
A sudden pain made my chest ache. “I don’t know. It’s just . . . what I’m used to.”
“Is that why you train alone at the gym?”
The words felt heavy on my tongue. Something about the darkness and the unusually soft edge to his flinty voice made me feel raw and undone. They were simple questions, but he was asking so much of me. More than I’d given anyone before, but then nobody else had ever asked.
“I guess I don’t want to draw attention to myself. My dad kind of does enough of that for both of us.”
The silence lingered for so long that if I hadn’t known better I might have assumed he’d fallen asleep, but somehow, even in the overwhelming darkness, I could feel his intense eyes burning into me.
He broke the silence with another soft murmur. “Your mum is a model? That explains a lot.”
“Explains what?”
“I could see you on a catwalk.”
It sounded like a compliment, but he said it so matter-of-factly I wasn’t sure he’d meant it as one. My laugh was self-effacing, but warmth swirled in my stomach.
“I’m five foot. It’s not ideal for a catwalk.”
“You could do some other kind of modeling.”
“I could probably get away with foot modeling.”
“That’s an idea. As long as you’re not hiding some hairy toes down there.”
Humor tinged his normal gruff voice. Was he smiling? If only it wasn’t dark. He must have looked dazzling with a smile.
I laughed. “My feet are divine. Ten out of ten. My best feature.”
Lies. My feet were bashed up from years of being stuffed into football boots. But he didn’t need to know that.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Look. I have evidence.” Maybe it was the champagne I’d sipped at the wedding, or maybe the tiredness from a day of travel, but some reckless impulse possessed me and I shifted a foot across the bed to touch his. “See. No hair. Smooth and normal.”
His cool toes grazed the top of my foot, and a spark of heat went through me.
I heard him swallow. “Got you. Confirmed non-hairy.”
I pulled my foot away, but the skin sizzled from that slight brush as though he’d branded me. Silence smothered us again, and my heart pounded. He inched closer. Only a bit, but enough to set my skin tingling.
We needed to move the conversation away from body parts or interludes that involved rubbing body parts against each other. The silence grew loud, as though trying to permeate the strange bubble of intimacy that had formed around us after my weird attempt at footsie.
He cleared his throat. “I like to train alone, too.”
“You do?”
“I spent a lot of time on my own when I was younger. My mum was a single parent. Money was tight. She worked a lot.”
I wouldn’t ask about his dad. There were rumors floating around. I didn’t know if any of them were true, and I knew better than to pay attention to gossip, given the things people said about my dad.
“What about your brother? Jack? Are you close?”
I didn’t know Jack Earnshaw, but he was on the partying circuit with the men’s team. Ollie had started coming home at all hours of the morning once he’d become friends with those guys. They weren’t good for him.
“We are, but there’s an age gap. We couldn’t really play or do things together when we were little. I’m the older brother. I had to keep an eye out for him, you know?”
“I understand. I’m the youngest, but I feel like the oldest. I still feel protective over Ollie. You must feel the same way about Jack?”
“I do.”
Another heavy silence percolated around us.
“You’re a good listener, you know that?” His voice was surprisingly soft.
I made a strange pfft sound to dismiss the praise.
“No. I mean it. No one listens. Everyone is just waiting for their turn to speak.”
“I enjoy listening.”
It was easier in my family. I could never get a word in anyway. There were only so many times you could fade yourself out when speaking because you realized no one was paying attention. I’d stopped trying. Easier to be quiet.
“Did you learn to speak Spanish when you played with Real Madrid?”
“The basics.” He cleared his throat and spoke with perfect fluency. “Una pinta de cerveza, por favor.”
“What does that mean?”
“A pint of beer, please.”
“I see you’ve learned the essentials.”
“Of course. Here’s one for when we’re forced to drink a full can of Fizzz on camera. Por favor, llévame al centro médico más cercano.” He paused dramatically. “Please take me to the nearest medical facility.”
Was he smiling? Surely not. He even cracked jokes with a sullen expression. I chuckled.
“Then there is the most important phrase of all. Por favor, llama a mi agente. Ella se ocupa de ese tipo de cosas.”
“Which means?”
“Please call my agent. She deals with this kind of thing.”
His tone was almost playful. Who would have thought stone-cold Kieran Earnshaw was so dorky?
“Your agent must be a saint.”
“She is. Without a doubt.” Laughter edged his voice again. “You like that one? What about this one? ?Sabes lo mejor de los futbolistas? Podemos estar noventa minutos sin parar.”
“Which means?”
He lowered his voice to a sexy murmur. “You know the best thing about footballers? We can go for ninety minutes without stopping.”
The words lingered in the darkness and charged it with electricity. Heat spread through me. He’d probably picked up so many women with that awful, cheesy line. It didn’t matter that it was ridiculous. Who could resist?
I forced a laugh. I’d laughed at the others. I’d look uptight if I didn’t laugh at this one too. “I suppose you have a lot of lines like that in your repertoire.”
“It’s a joke a friend told me a long time ago. I don’t use pick-up lines.”
He didn’t say the quiet part out loud. Kieran Earnshaw didn’t need lines.
None of Calverdale United did. I’d seen the women waiting outside the VIP area whenever the team went out.
He only had to click his fingers and he’d have his pick.
The pillow ruffled; he must have been lowering his head back down.
“I’ll stop talking and let you get some sleep,” he said. “Goodnight.”
I turned onto my side with my back to him. “Goodnight.”
Kieran’s slow, steady breathing punctuated the silence.
My foot still tingled where I’d brushed his.
We can go for ninety minutes without stopping.
What kind of woman would entice Kieran Earnshaw to flirt?
Probably some achingly sophisticated Spanish beauty in a beautiful dress and high heels.
The type who always had matching underwear and slept in sexy negligees.
They’d exchange glances across a classy hotel bar in Madrid.
She’d brush her fingers down his arm. He’d lean in and whisper in that sexy voice and they’d go back to his room together.
Wrapped in a cocoon of darkness, my mind filled with the fantasy of Kieran and a beautiful woman.
Two strangers together in this bed for completely different reasons: his hands stroking her hips through the silk of her dress, those full lips trailing the bumps on her spine, fingers raking gently through her hair.
Heat radiated from Kieran’s body next to me.
I’d only have to move a fraction and I could touch him.
What if it was me? What if I was the woman in the fantasy?
Kieran’s breath hot against my cheek, his lips travelling across my throat, his warm palms moving gently over my back.
A longing unfurled inside of me and with it a sense of liberation, like a bird imprisoned in a cage finally allowed to spread its wings.
My heart hammered at the sudden craving.
Tingling heat sparked between my thighs and it was so painful in its intensity, I had to resist the urge to slip my hand lower to relieve the sudden desperate ache.
What was wrong with me? This was ridiculous.
It had never felt like this with Gerard.
Sometimes, when we’d kissed, I’d felt his hardness pushing against me through his trousers.
I hadn’t liked it. It made me tense and unsure, but this was different.
This was . . . an uncharted land. I wanted Kieran to touch me, even though he was the last person I should desire.
I squeezed my eyes tight, wishing I had bleach for my brain.
This was a professional work trip. I hardly ever had thoughts like this.
My battery-operated boyfriend had always served me well enough.
At least that was one thing from Lana’s list I could tick off.
I had a good vibrator. Although, I’d only used it a handful of times since the injury and it always felt .
. . disconnected. These days my body was a seat of pain and frustration—something I pushed to the limit and hoped like mad wouldn’t break again.
Kieran wasn’t interested in me in that way, and if I had any sense, I wouldn’t be interested in him in that way.
I did have sense. Just because he was hot and he had that low sexy voice and he could speak Spanish and I’d witnessed him being endearingly kind at one wedding and he was surprisingly funny considering he never smiled, it didn’t mean he was a good prospect.
He was grumpy as heck, and he’d had a weird attitude in the gym about Ollie.
It was only a small thing, but it had rankled me. Ollie only saw the good in people.
Horrible to think that Ollie was out partying with this group that didn’t respect him.
That didn’t have his best interests at heart.
The Earnshaws were leading my brother into trouble.
This was a physical reaction. Nothing more.
I’d be better exploring this feeling with anyone in the world other than Kieran Earnshaw.
But maybe it was a sign. Maybe this thrumming excitement was a signal I needed to try and put myself out there.
If I wanted to find someone more suitable to snuggle with in bed, then I could.
The first step was to acknowledge that was what I wanted now.
It wasn’t just time to rejoin the pitch, but to rejoin the world.
It pained me to admit that Dad could be a bit right.
Maybe it was about baby steps. A man like Kieran Earnshaw definitely wasn’t baby steps.
He was a dangerous leap across an abyss.
There would be other more suitable partners. I couldn’t jump from percussion to lead guitar, but I could bang some more exciting rhythms on my drum. Seizing the day was a bit much after everything I’d been through, but maybe I could reach for the day . . . carefully . . . with my fingertips.