Chapter 22
Gunnar
I grinned as I woke many hours later to Zaila’s soft breaths on my chest, her hair wild across my arm and neck. Connection, intimacy… Those were words I’d heard and thought I understood before. I hadn’t, not until now.
Caring about and for another person, this woman, gave me a new purpose. For a long moment, I luxuriated in the pleasure of our physical connection. I tipped my head down to breathe in the faint hints of her shampoo before I disentangled myself from her embrace.
The next thing I wanted was her, sleep-rumpled and well-sated, moaning softly as she sipped her favorite coffee, a latte with lots of foam.
I’d paid attention to her orders and ensured I had all the proper ingredients on hand.
I padded out of my suite and down the hall to the guest room nearest the stairs, where I showered and brushed my teeth with the extra I kept stocked there, hoping the distance would allow Zaila to sleep longer.
My plan faltered when I realized I didn’t have a change of clothes or a robe to put on, so I went downstairs in a towel, hoping to find something to put on in the laundry room.
My housekeeper proved too efficient, though, so with a sigh, I padded into the kitchen, shivering slightly as the cool air blew across my skin.
I started the coffee machine, making myself an espresso before pressing the series of buttons that would create Zaila’s frothy drink.
While I waited, I drank a large glass of water and noted that the bluejays in the backyard had pecked away all the birdseed once again.
With a mental note to get more for the feeder, I picked up my coffee and sipped, enjoying the sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy that towered over my backyard.
Houston had taken some getting used to because it was large and not just American, but boldly Texan.
That had created both a culture and climate shock when I’d first arrived.
Now, while I still enjoyed other locations more—the city was built on a swamp and didn’t have the gorgeous topography of my native Sweden—I’d learned to appreciate the city’s arts and culture and its more modest topographical beauty.
I loved my hockey team and my house, and I was growing more certain I could love the woman in my bed, so Houston felt more and more like home.
The machine gurgled to a stop, and I picked up Zaila’s mug. Carrying one coffee in each hand, I headed back up the stairs to my sleeping beauty.
I settled both our coffees on my nightstand and went to find a pair of sweatpants.
I slid them on as I heard the bedsheets rustle, and I hurried back to the main room in time to see Zaila lift her head, squinting at the light.
She was mussed adorably in a way that made my chest ache.
Her gaze found me as I sat on the mattress, sliding in close to run my hand along her sleep-warmed cheek.
“Morning,” I murmured, threading my fingers into her thick hair.
“Good morning.” Her eyes smiled up at me even before her lips lifted. “I hope I’m not keeping you from something.”
“Not a place I’d rather be,” I assured her. “I made you a coffee.”
Her eyes widened as I picked it up and handed it to her. She scooted upward to lean against the pillows and took a long sip. Her upper lip was soon coated in foam that she licked off before breathing out a contented sigh. “This is so good. Thank you, Gunnar.”
I smiled as I joined her in leaning against the headboard and the pillows. “You’re welcome.” I took a much smaller sip of my espresso. “I loved waking up to you in my bed. I plan to do this often, just so you know.”
Her smile widened. “It’s my favorite wake-up, too.”
We sipped our coffees in pleasurable silence before Zaila set down her empty mug. “I should probably get cleaned up.”
“Sure.” I waited a beat. “Mind if I join you?”
“Didn’t you already shower?” She rose from the bed in all her nude glory, heading toward the bathroom door.
“Yeah, but I thought you might need some help with working the controls. Or with washing in some places. Or with any desire that built up overnight.”
She giggled. “You know, I might. Give me a few to…” She trailed off as her cheeks bloomed pink. “I’ll open the door when I’m ready for your company.”
I settled back, running my hand down my abs. I enjoyed watching Zaila’s gaze follow. “I’ll be waiting.”
Shower sex was better than anticipated, and I’d anticipated a lot.
We got ready in a soft, post-orgasmic haze.
Zaila was a no-nonsense woman, so she didn’t bother with an hour-long hair and makeup routine.
That said, I was waiting in the kitchen, having enjoyed a second espresso and more antics between the birds and the squirrels, when Zaila joined me.
Her outfit today was a simple shorts-and-top set that showcased her long, tanned legs, narrow waist, and the tops of her shoulders.
“What’s that called?” I asked, pointing to her outfit.
“A romper. I love them when it’s hot out because they’re so comfortable.”
“You look great. Green’s an excellent color for you.”
She smiled as she stepped in closer and laid her hand on my chest. Then, she paused, almost as if she weren’t sure she should proceed.
“I hope you’re going to kiss me, and I hope it’s going to last a while.” I settled my hand over hers. “Because I’d really like that.”
She rose on her toes in her gold sandals until her lips touched mine.
I held her close with my free hand, my palm settling on the top curve of her ass, and kissed her some more.
“Gunnar,” Zaila said against my lips.
“Yeah?” I didn’t want to pull back.
“I need to call my mother.” She blinked up at me, worry clouding her eyes. “She’s probably fine, but—”
“You need to be sure. I get that. Call her and let her know we’re bringing over brunch.”
Zaila bit her lip. “You don’t mind?”
“That you’re a responsible, caring daughter who worries about her parent’s health?” I shook my head. “I do not. In fact, it makes me think even more of you.”
Her expression softened, and I realized she’d been nervous. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I mean it. The fact that you gave up your independence for your mom is not something I see from a lot of younger people.”
Zaila shrugged. “That’s probably because most of the younger people you deal with are professional athletes who are used to being catered to, not catering to others.”
“That’s valid,” I said. “Insightful, too. Because I just thought most twenty-somethings were selfish.”
Zaila shook her head. “I’m sure many are, just as many older adults are. But athletes are a special breed. They’re used to being indulged and coddled. They aren’t used to having to put in the emotional work for relationships. Well, in my limited experience.”
“That’s because our current rookies and first-year players are some of the most entitled little shits I’ve ever dealt with.
” I ran my hand through my hair, my good mood souring as I remembered my Jeff problem.
The deal Silas and my GM had been working on had recently fallen through thanks to Jeff’s comments about his lack of playing time.
I was on the verge of sending him to the minor leagues. So close. “Make your call.”
Zaila pulled out her phone but peeked up at me before she pressed dial. “You really don’t like Jeff.”
I shook my head. “I don’t have to like the players, but I should be able to respect their work ethic and commitment to the game.”
“Jeff doesn’t meet that standard either,” Zaila said.
Before I could ask if she was giving me her opinion or telling me what she thought I believed, she put her phone to her ear.
Once she was certain her mother was fine and more than happy to laze the morning away, she hung up. “We can take over brunch...”
I raised an eyebrow. “Or?”
“Or we could stay here for a while longer,” Zaila offered, mischief in her eyes.
“And do what?” I asked, my hands falling to her hips.
She leaned in and bit my lip. “You could give me a tour of your house.”
Nearly a week later, after the second win in a row for the Wildcatters—helped by Jeff riding the bench—I met Zaila in my office.
The first game this week had been away, and I’d had dinner meetings the last two nights and then tonight’s game.
Dating me had to frustrate her; my schedule and lack of time with her certainly frustrated me.
I struggled to find a chance to see her each day, and my calendar kept filling up more and more quickly, no matter how much I wanted to carve out time for her.
So, these stolen minutes in my office and at her mother’s house were the highlights of my week. And I still missed holding her at night and waking up with her in the morning. That was part of how I knew this relationship differed from any other I’d had.
The moment Zaila walked into my office, I leaned down, my lips meeting hers in a tender kiss. The moment felt perfect and much-needed after the busyness of the last seven days.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
I jerked back, my heart racing as I saw Jay Welks standing in the doorway, still half-dressed in the Gusher mascot costume.
I felt Zaila’s muscles stiffen. I never wanted her to feel that way, tense and unsure, when she was with me. “Did you need something?” I asked Jay, my tone flinty.
“The big boss and his much-younger employee. Quite the scandal, don’t you think?” Jay asked, his smirk growing.
I felt my jaw clench. “What do you want, Jay?”
He sauntered into my office, twirling Gusher’s oversized hockey stick. “Oh, nothing much. Just better working conditions for the social media team. A raise wouldn’t hurt either.”
“You’re blackmailing me?” I asked, incredulous. I felt Zaila huff as she turned to face her boss.
Jay shrugged. “I prefer to think of it as negotiating. Unless you’d rather the board hear about this indiscretion?”
I glanced at Zaila, who looked pale but determined. “Actually, the board is aware of my relationship with Zaila,” I growled. She startled as she met my gaze. “Just as I informed Noelle.” She was the head of the marketing department. “And HR.”
“I didn’t tell you, though, and that was my choice,” Zaila told Jay. “Because I was concerned about how you’d react. Clearly I was right to worry. You thought you could sneak up on us and make our relationship dirty.” Zaila lifted her chin, meeting Jay’s gaze. “It’s not.”
“No, it isn’t,” I agreed. “And you skulking around, trying to get the goods on me doesn’t match the level of ethics expected around here.” I raised my eyebrows. “So, count this as your last warning. I won’t give another one.”
As Jay slunk from the room, a mutinous expression on his face, I slumped into my chair, the weight of this suddenly too much.
“Gunnar,” Zaila said softly, “I don’t think he took that well. What am I going to do?”
I looked at her, wishing I had a better answer. “Well, he can’t touch me, but that calculating look makes me think I made a mistake in not firing him on the spot.”
“That would have been bad, though, especially after Lydia—”
I nodded. “Which is why I didn’t do it. But I’ll keep a close eye on Jay.”
“I’m glad you talked to the board, but…” She bit her lip.
“But?”
“Jay’s my boss. I probably should have talked to him.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted—”
“All of it,” I said as I tugged Zaila into my lap. “I want everything with you. And now that Jay is aware, he won’t bother you. I promise.”