Chapter 22
KENDALL
Iwake up warm.
That’s the first thing I notice, before I’m fully conscious, before my brain catches up to my body. There’s warmth along my back and across my waist, where a heavy arm is draped, and someone’s breath is blowing against the hair at the base of my head.
Patterson stayed, and it makes me smile.
My eyes open to gray morning light filtering through my curtains, and I lie completely still while my heart does a somersault.
He’s curved around me from behind, and his body is fitted against mine like we’ve done this a hundred times, even though it’s the first. I can feel his chest rising and falling and know he’s still asleep.
He’s never stayed before. Every other time, I kicked him out and woke up sore, next to cold sheets, with the faint smell of him lingering.
I wanted to stay true to what we’d agreed to—no couple shit.
His arm tightens slightly around my waist, and he mumbles something unintelligible against my shoulder.
I shift slightly.
“Don’t go.” His voice is rough, barely awake. “Five more minutes.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.” He presses his mouth to my shoulder, not quite a kiss, just contact. “Then stop moving.”
I smile and settle back against him, letting my body relax into his warmth. We lie there for a while, neither of us talking, and I try to memorize how this feels while I wait for the other shoe to drop.
Patterson doesn’t do vulnerable. He doesn’t do morning moments and sleepy cuddles. But his thumb tracing absent patterns on my stomach tells me I’m wrong about that. I’m having whiplash.
“You’re thinking too loud.” His lips move against my skin.
“I can’t help it.” I turn in his arms so I’m facing him, and his eyes are still half closed, his hair a disaster against my pillow. He looks younger without all that armor he usually wears. “This is weird.”
“It is,” he says with a chuckle, and his eyes open fully. I watch him come back to himself, watch the walls start to build again before he catches himself. “But I like it.”
“I do too.” It’s the truth. “I … I don’t know what this is. Are we fuck buddies who cuddle now? Are we dating?”
He rolls onto his side, smiling at me. “What do you want, Ken?”
“That’s a dangerous question.”
“I’m aware. Tell me.”
I prop myself up on one elbow, matching him. “You. However I can have you.”
The words hang between us, and I watch his eyes shift in a way that he usually keeps buried. His hand finds my hip under the sheets, and his thumb traces the bone there.
He studies me with those blue-green eyes that see too much. “We can’t go public. My contract negotiation starts in six weeks, and if your dad finds out before then—”
“I know,” I cut him off because I don’t need the reminder. “I’m not asking for that.”
“Explain.”
I think about my words—because this matters. “I don’t need anyone to see me with you. I want more private moments. Mornings. Late nights. A few shared showers. Maybe actually talking to each other instead of fucking and ducking.”
He smirks. “Cute. But also, doable.”
I smile, leaning forward to brush my lips against his.
“But I want more than that. I want to know what you’re thinking when you get that look on your face during games.
I want to know why you hate mushrooms, what your favorite movie is, and whether you actually like any of your teammates or if you’re tolerating them. I want to know you.”
He gives me his real laugh. “Game face? I’m thinking about you. Mushrooms are too slimy, even when they’re cooked to shit. My favorite movie is Titanic, and I like and tolerate my teammates.”
“Titanic? Really?” I ask.
His expression softens, and he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Shut the fuck up. I love large ships.”
“Do you want me to draw you like one of my French girls?” I ask, giggling.
“You should,” he says. “I’ll sit for you.”
My brow lifts. “Naked?”
“Sure. But I’ll stay hard all day.”
I bite my lip. “I think I can handle that.”
“I’m sure you can.” He pulls me closer, stealing a kiss. “I want all of this. But if we do this, if we actually try, it has to stay between us. No one can know. Not Addison, not anyone. Are you sure you can handle being my secret?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Until my contract is negotiated,” he adds. “If they pay me what I want, there is no way the owner would consider trading me.”
“After playoffs,” I tell him. “It will be easier to tell my parents in the offseason. I’ll have you join me for dinner, and my mother will shut down my dad so fast if he tries to interfere. We have options,” I tell him. “But I agree with waiting.”
“I’m sorry.” His jaw tightens.
“Don’t be. We have to be strategic because …” I swallow hard. “I won’t let you ruin your career to be with me. I know my father too well. He’s protective to a fault, and he’s never trusted any hockey players around me, not even the ones he respects.”
He traces his finger along my collarbone. “I’ve never done this before.”
“What?”
“Wanted someone enough to risk everything.”
The confession makes my heart flutter. “Patterson—”
“I’m serious.”
“I don’t want you to risk everything,” I say, kissing him.
“I already have,” he says.
When I pull back, his eyes are still closed. I run my fingers through his messy hair.
“I have too,” I admit.
He rolls me onto my back and settles between my thighs, his weight pressing me into the mattress in the best way. “Do you think we’re bad for one another?”
“Want my professional opinion?”
He drops his mouth to my neck. “Please.”
“Yes, but in the best way.”
I laugh, and he swallows the sound with a kiss that turns heated fast. His hand slides down my body and into my pajama shorts. He works me slowly, two fingers curling inside while his thumb draws lazy circles along my clit. I’m embarrassingly close already.
“Tell me something.” His lips trail against my throat.
I gasp as he adds pressure. “I was scared to come back to New York.”
He speeds up his hand, then slows, changing his pace. “Why?”
“Because of you. Because I knew when I took this job, I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you.”
“You were right,” he says, nearly bringing me to the edge before pulling away. “And now look at us.”
He returns to me, picking up the pace, and I’m falling apart, allowing myself to let out my moans as I ride his hand. He continues until I’m shaking and oversensitive.
I pull him closer and push down his boxers. Then he’s on his back, and I’m sliding on top of him.
His thumbs are digging into my hips. We move together slowly, finding a rhythm that’s more intimate than anything we’ve shared before. I lean over and kiss him while he’s inside me. This sensation is what I’ve always dreamed of having.
“Let go,” he whispers against my mouth. “I’m right here with you.”
The orgasm washes over me, and we fall apart together. I kiss against his neck, nibbling on his ear as he pumps into me. When it’s over, I don’t pull away.
We kiss as I inhale his skin, the smell of us mixed together. His arms hold me tight, and I feel as if I’m dreaming.
“Stay for breakfast,” I say.
“I shouldn’t. I have a team meeting at eight and should probably go home and change clothes before heading to the facility.”
“How long do you think it takes to make eggs and coffee?”
He lifts his head to look at me. “You actually cook?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “Ten minutes, max.”
“Okay. You’ve convinced me.”
He kisses my nose, and I roll off of him. Once we’ve cleaned ourselves up, he pulls me against his side.
“I want ten more minutes of this first.”
“Clingy,” I tell him.
“Shut up and take my snuggles.” He’s smiling.
I trace the RUINED tattoo on his chest while he plays with my hair. It’s nothing like I expected from Patterson Cross.
“Wednesday,” he says suddenly.
“What about it?”
“Come to my place. I want to cook for you.”
I lift my head. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
I laugh and settle back against him. “Okay, deal.”
My phone dings on the nightstand, and I grab it, my stomach dropping when I see the name.
Addison
Breakfast today? Need to debrief the awards ceremony. After reading the articles written in Page Six, I have QUESTIONS!
I stare at the message she sent an hour ago, not knowing what she’s talking about. I sit up in bed and immediately go online and search my name.
Jameson Cross and Kendall Hart … a Second Chance.
Patterson Cross Officially Dating Fashion Executive.
My stomach drops as I scroll through the photos. There’s Jameson and me walking into the Plaza, his hand on my back, both of us smiling. The angle makes it look intimate, romantic even. It looks like we’re absolutely back together.
Then there’s Patterson and Mila, her red dress catching the light, his arm wrapped around her waist while she adjusts his tie. The headline calls them “Hockey’s Hottest New Power Couple” and speculates about how long they’ve actually been seeing one another. Some say years.
“What is it?” Patterson sits up behind me, his chin resting on my shoulder to look at my screen. I feel him tense when he sees the photos.
“Page Six had a field day with the awards ceremony,” I say.
He takes my phone and scrolls through. “This is good.”
“Excuse me?”
“Think about it.” He hands my phone back. “Everyone thinks I’m with Mila and that you’re rekindling things with Jameson. No one’s looking at us.”
He’s right, but the logic doesn’t make it sting less. “That leaves me pretending I’m back with your brother.”
“I know, but he kinda owes us.”
I pull the sheet up around my chest even though he’s seen every inch of me. “I don’t like this.”
He wraps his arm around me from behind, pulling me back against his chest. “For what it’s worth, I don’t like it either.”
Three loud knocks on my front door make us both freeze.
“Keke! I know you’re awake. I saw the lights on from the street. Open up. I brought doughnuts!”
Addison.
Patterson and I look at each other with panic.
“Bathroom,” I hiss, shoving him off the bed. “Now. Don’t make a sound.”