Chapter Eighteen
Sterling
I wanted to be strong.
Really.
But it had been an interminable evening of pretending, and I’d had enough.
Tag had told me about how they’d had to cut half of his profile report because he’d talked too much and how he’d loved watching mine.
I’d cringed at that. He was a sweet guy—gorgeous, funny, and said all the right things to show he was interested in me.
Any man would jump at the chance to be with him.
Any man except me, apparently.
Because for some reason, I was hung up on an egotistical, annoying as fuck, sexy as hell hockey player. Tag had suggested a nightcap but I’d begged off, saying I had to prepare notes for the next day. He’d kissed my cheek and said he understood.
“Maybe another time?”
My smile had been halfhearted at best. “Yeah, sure.” I didn’t wait for a car, waving good-bye to him and hustling to the train station. It came relatively quickly, and less than half an hour later, I was walking into my lobby to see Denis sitting there. He stood as our eyes met.
“Where’s Tag?”
“Why? What business is it of yours?”
Denis’s answer was to pull me into his arms and cover my mouth with his.
For a moment I thought about resisting, but I lost my ability to think straight when he pushed his tongue into my mouth.
My fingers curled, clutching his shirt, holding him close.
I tried to keep my brain from scrambling, but that battle was lost.
He ran his nose down my cheek and whispered, “Everything about you is my business. Now, am I coming upstairs or not?”
I wanted to say no. What were we doing here?
I had too much to hide, and Denis seemed to be poking his nose where it didn’t belong.
But dammit, I was tired of being alone and lonely.
Tonight had proved that even forcing myself to be with someone else couldn’t stop me from thinking of Denis.
I didn’t answer, but holding on to him, walked to the elevators.
Once up in my apartment, Denis didn’t take me to bed. He cupped my cheek in his large palm and kissed me, gentle and sweet. “I wondered if you’d go home with Tag or bring him here.”
“What would you have done if I showed up with him?” His warm mouth pressed kisses along my jaw, eyes, and brow, and I wanted to rub on him like a cat marking its territory.
Mine, mine, mine.
“I would’ve asked you to send him home.” He smiled against my lips. “I can be very persuasive.”
“I know. But why are you here?” With each passing second it was becoming harder for me to speak.
Denis’s body heat soaked through me, whipping up an inferno that threatened to explode, and I was seriously doubting my mental state as all I wanted was to get naked in the middle of my living room.
“Do you think you can just show up and have sex with me anytime you want?”
Obviously my body thought that was a stupendous idea because I was hard as a rock. Denis rested his hands on my shoulders. “No. Of course not. But you were the one who told me to leave last time. I wanted to talk because we never do.”
“Talk about what?” My heart thudded.
“I know nothing about you.”
“Didn’t you watch the profile about me on the news? You could’ve found out what you need to know.”
His grip tightened. “Is that what you think is right? For me to watch the news to discover who you are? I’m your lover, not a viewer.”
“My lover?”
His eyes flashed. “What do you think we’re doing here?”
“Having fun?” I shrugged. “It’s casual sex. We’re not exclusive or a couple.”
His fingers bit into my shoulders. “Is that so? Tell me. Why didn’t you end up with Tag tonight?”
“Because I don’t sleep with every man I have a date with.”
“Or maybe he doesn’t turn you on like I do. Hmm, mon cher? Is that it?” He slid his hands over my throat, coming to rest on my chest.
That sexy accent was going to be my undoing. That, and his touch, his smell. Fuck. Everything about this man turned me on.
Denis kissed my neck at the point where it met my shoulder, and I couldn’t stop my fingers from sliding through his hair to anchor him in place. I’d give anything to be able to stop time and keep this moment locked away forever.
“You don’t want to feel this way, but you can’t help it, can you?” He sucked my earlobe into his mouth, and I moaned, swaying toward him. “You don’t want to want me, but you do. Say it. Tell me you want me.”
I stayed silent, but it didn’t matter. The rapid pump of my heart gave it all away.
He chuckled, low and deep, and rocked his hips against mine. “I’ll say it first because I have no shame. I want you more than anything. I have to have you. All of you.”
“Denis,” I whispered.
His fingers made quick work of my belt and zipper, and he sank to his knees, taking my clothes with him.
“Plain white? You didn’t wear that sexy black underwear for him. Good. Because it’s only for me.” The tip of his tongue traced the head of my cock and licked the slit. “This is mine too. No one else gets to touch you.”
I hissed when his hot mouth sucked me fully and his tongue swirled up and down my aching shaft. “Please,” I begged, my hips pumping. “Please.”
He clutched my ass, his lips wreaking havoc on my rock-hard length, and I tangled my fingers in his hair and came so violently, I lost my footing and stumbled into his arms.
“It’s okay,” he crooned, holding me tight. “It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”
His lips met mine, and I tasted my bitterness. He stroked me, and I waited until the fog cleared from my mind to speak.
“I’ve never been with anyone I’ve wanted to see more than once. Except you. And I don’t know why or what to do or say…” I hung my head, but he tipped my chin up with those long fingers. I gazed into his solemn face.
“Sometimes we don’t need words to speak what’s in our hearts.”
My lips quirked in a smile. “That’s very profound.”
His eyes danced. “I can be deep.” He kissed me. “And I feel the same. No one has intrigued me as much as you. I find everything about you fascinating. I want to know more. Teach me about you.”
“There isn’t much to tell.”
His brow furrowed. “Why are you holding back?” He smoothed the sweat-dampened hair off my brow.
“I know there’s some connection between you and Dahlia Dumont.
You look so much like her. Your eyes and the shape of your face.
” I stiffened and tried to pull away, but he held on to me.
“Don’t run away from me, please. I won’t tell anyone.
Are you related? What hold does she have over you? ”
“None,” I said, but couldn’t face him. “It’s nothing.”
“What are you hiding?” His eyes widened. “You’re her son. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t say that. And you should leave.”
Of course he ignored me. “Why would you need to hide that she had a child?”
“Not America’s Sweetheart,” I burst out.
“She got her start in Hollywood playing the young, beautiful, virginal teenager, then the woman every man wanted as their wife. No room for the bastard child she had at fifteen.” My ugly past, hidden for so long, spilled out.
“I would’ve ruined everything. My whole existence was wiped out and recreated for her benefit. ”
Denis gathered me to his chest, and my arms naturally came around his waist. How long had it been since someone had held me?
Forever.
I pushed away from him and fixed my clothes. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Why? It all makes sense now.”
“Because I’m not allowed to speak about it. It was part of the agreement we worked out.”
Sympathy clouded his face. “Agreement? Like a settlement?”
“Yes. Can we sit? It’s a long story.”
At this point it made no difference if I told him everything. I finished my story, he sat for a long time without saying a word. After so many years of silence, releasing the weight of my secret was like a rebirth of sorts.
“You did the best you could, being alone in the world from when you were a child. It’s not easy to make it, but you did.”
My smile was wry. “The millions of dollars paved the way.”
“She didn’t get you your jobs at news stations, did she?” Denis frowned, and I shook my head.
“No. I started out doing radio news at school, then working in local stations until I graduated and applied for reporter positions. I worked my ass off—first as a stand-in for late-night reporters, weekend anchors, and the morning news. I finally got my chance at prime time five years ago.”
Denis played with the ends of my hair. “But you moved here. Why?”
I nibbled on my lip. “Funny enough, Dahlia was promoting her makeup line, and someone from my station commented that I looked like her. I brushed it off but freaked and decided to move as far away as possible. Hence, New York City.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you weren’t the face of the news?” he asked, and it was a fair question.
“Yes, but I’m not going to be a national anchor. I’ve chosen to never push for that, even though it was once a dream of mine.”
Surprising me, Denis grasped my arms and came nose-to-nose. “You should absolutely go for it. What your mother did to you was horrible, and you owe her nothing. Why should you lose your dream so she can live hers?”
“She gave me life when she could’ve ended it. And she did take me with her.”
“I can’t figure that out.”
“Neither can I. A shred of decency knowing what would be in store for me? Perhaps. But she did, and for that I have to give her credit.” I shuddered, imagining a life so restrictive and wondering how gay Amish teens survived.
If they did. Maybe that was a story that needed telling. “And there’s our agreement.”
“I’m certain if you show it to your attorney, they’d agree with me.”
Ashamed, I couldn’t face him. “I’ve never let anyone see it. It’s in my safe-deposit box at the bank.”
“Merde,” he cursed under his breath. “And you say hockey players are stupid. You have a lawyer, I’m sure. If you want someone very discreet, I can recommend mine. He handles many pro athletes and celebrities.”
“Maybe…I don’t know…” I sounded as weak as I felt. Like a child who’d lost their way home and didn’t know which street to take.
This night was full of surprises as again, Denis drew me close.
“You’re afraid, I can see. And I understand.
Your whole life you’ve lived as someone else wanted.
And you don’t have to expose Dahlia if you choose not to.
Although you owe her nothing at this point, in my opinion.
But I hate to see you give up on your dream. ”
“It wasn’t one I actively pursued. But my agent has been approached by several cable networks, which could be a way for me to get my foot in the door.”
“Maybe try that and see? You are lucky in that respect. When a team wants to trade you, there’s no asking. They just do it, and you’re like a chess piece—swept off one side of the board and taken to the other.”
I sensed bitterness, and because I’d had enough talking about myself and my issues, was ready for Denis to take center stage. Or ice in his case.
“Do you worry about being traded? Don’t they have to ask you first?”
His chuckle rumbled through his broad chest, and I had to admit it was nice lying with him in the semidarkness, simply talking.
“Si seulement.” He sighed, and I nudged his cheek with my nose.
“Translate, please. I only took high school Spanish,” I said with a smile.
“It means ‘if only.’ And I’ll teach you some French, mon c?ur.” He nuzzled my neck. “As for the game? The teams can trade us when they no longer want us. Meaning, if we get too old, too slow, or someone better comes along.”
Sadness hung over his words. I never realized how terrible it must be to give your whole life to a team only for them to replace you once they deemed you expendable.
“I’m sure the Blades wouldn’t do that to you. Not after how well you’ve played these past years.”
His huff left no doubt he disagreed.
“Well, I think they’d be fools to consider it, and I doubt you have anything to worry about.”
“I always worry. Getting injured means vulnerability.”
“Even you?”
He stared off into nothingness. “Even me. No one is irreplaceable.”
I put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Are you actually concerned? You’re the best goalie in the league.”
“A compliment? Did I hear correctly?”
My cheeks warmed. “I’m repeating a statistic Tag told me.”
“Don’t mention him.” A growl escaped Denis’s lips. I never imagined I’d find the caveman thing sexy, but I kind of liked it.
“I might’ve watched a few games.”
A brow arched high. “You’ve been following the Blades, mon cher? Or me?” His lips curved in that wicked grin that never failed to make my bones weak. “Does that mean you maybe like me? Un petit peu? That means ‘a little,’ in case you didn’t know.”
“Maybe a little,” I conceded, and he pressed a warm kiss to my lips.
“Hmm. How can I convince you to make it more?”
I gazed into his hard face and met those glittering eyes, like bright chips of onyx.
How had we come to this point where I was revealing life-long secrets to a man I once couldn’t stand to be in the same room with?
“You know my secrets. Tell me yours.”