Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Gray
Something delicious fills the air the moment I push into the house after practice but as I walk down the hall and into the kitchen, there’s no sign of Faye.
I move to the counter, lift the lid of the crock pot (another kitchen accessory I had but never used), and my stomach rumbles.
Fuck, that smells good.
Practice was brutal today—Coach putting us through our paces in preparation of the upcoming road trip.
We’ll be out of our normal routine, on enemy ice—and Coach made sure we’d be ready.
I snag a beer from the fridge, know it’ll soften the edges of my sore muscles, then go hunting for Faye.
She’s not in the dining room, her supplies spread out on my table as she plots her next book.
Not in the family room—my lips twitch—watching a hockey game.
Not in our bedroom—and maybe our is a little presumptuous but that’s where she belongs.
In bed beside me.
I make my way downstairs, a flicker of annoyance twisting with worry.
If she’s next door at her house without me…
Click-click-click-click. Click-click-click. Click-click.
I frown.
Then relief ripples through me as I spy her through the window, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop.
Ever since she was able to take the splint off, she’s been doing that a lot.
Today, she’s sitting on the back deck, hair bundled on top of her head, tendrils escaping and curling along her nape. I stand there and watch her work, studying her face as types then pauses, clearly stopping to think, nose scrunching, teeth pressing into her bottom lip, head tilting to the side.
Then she smiles and her fingers start flying again.
I stand there as though there’s an invisible rope is connecting us, unable to look away but unwilling to interrupt her flow by going to her.
Not that I mind.
It’s a really great view.
Eventually, she sits back in the chair, reaching forward and closing her laptop.
That’s when I allow myself to finally open the door and join her on the deck.
Something loosens in me when she immediately smiles and pushes up to her feet.
My Faye.
Still sweet, still happy to see me. Still mine.
“Hey,” she says, coming over and wrapping her arms around my middle.
I bury my face in her hair, loving the scent of her, then tug out the tie and tangle my fingers in the silken strands. Her soft curves press against my body and when I tilt her head back, she smiles before her lush lips mold to mine.
“Red,” I murmur, brushing my thumb lightly over her collarbone when we pull back.
“Gray,” she murmurs back.
My mouth twitches…along with my cock, but I focus. Never do I want her to be uncertain how much I appreciate her. “Thanks for making whatever delicious concoction is in the crock pot.”
Pink on her cheeks. “It’s just chicken chili.”
“Not just.”
A shake of her head, dismissing the words. But I’m not going to stop appreciating her, not going to risk fucking things up between us.
“You hungry?” she asks quietly.
I’m starving.
Just not for food.
I’m starving for Faye—ravenous in my need to hold her, kiss her, fuck her.
But even more intense than that is…
The need to know every part of her.
“What were you working on?”
Her cheeks flare red. “Edits for the book I turned in a couple of months ago.”
“What’s this one about?” We’ve discussed the project she finished the night of the fire, along with the book she’s just beginning to plot. But this is the first time she’s mentioned edits for a previous novel.
Her eyes slide away. “A guy and a girl falling in love.”
I lift my brows in question. Because that’s the most bland description I’ve ever heard—she’s passionate about her books, her work. I heard that at the baby shower, during our nights on the couch when we’ve done nothing but watch movies and cuddle and talk.
To equate this project to just a guy and girl falling in love…
Yeah, now my curiosity is seriously piqued.
“Why are you being shy?” I ask lightly.
“I’m just hungry.” She takes my hand. “Let’s go in and eat.”
I draw her closer. “Is it because it’s about me?” Her body jerks and I chuckle, stroking my fingers down her spine. “Oh, Red. This is the one about me, isn’t it?”
Part of me expects her to back down, to keep playing shy, but to my shock—and pleasure—her chin comes up, a recalcitrant set to her jaw. “So what if it is?”
Something strange happens in my chest—fear, pleasure, and…an intense, all-encompassing curiosity. “Red.”
She studies my face…and then I get a glimmer of the confident, sexual, proud woman whom I’m falling for as she brushes her lips over mine, moves out of my arms, and sits back down in her chair.
She opens her laptop.
And begins to read.
“What are you doing here, Josie?” he demands as he strides across the empty locker room, his face a frightening mix of curiosity and need.
I straighten my shoulders, hold my ground, even as a glimmer of fear coils in my belly.
“You left before we got to the good stuff,” I murmur as he comes close, the heat and strength of his body the most sinful temptation.
“There was a reason for that, baby,” he rasps, his hand settling on my hip, scalding hot through the fabric of my clothes. “I can’t control myself when I’m around you.”
I press closer, my breasts against his chest, my thighs flush with his.
Maybe it’s unwise to tempt him instead of listening to the voice inside me telling me he’s very close to the edge, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Not when I so want to see what happens when the leash snaps.
Hopefully he’ll strip me naked and fuck me hard and furious against this wall—
I’m completely riveted at the sound of her husky voice, her intoxicating words.
“I don’t want you in control,” I say, tracing my hand down his chest, not stopping until my fingers are just above the waistband of his pants. “In fact, I think I prefer when you’re very much out of control.”
His hand flexes on my hip—
“What are you doing, Red?”
Her eyes come to mine, and though her cheeks are still pink, her eyes a little shy, the determination written into the lines of her expression wraps it fingers around my cock and squeezes.
Hard.
“I promised to read to you, remember?”
I remember.
Fuck, do I remember.
I just—
One moment, I’m confident. In control.
The next, I’m face first against the wall, his hands tugging me at the waist, guiding me until my palms are flat against the wall and my ass is in the air and—
“Oh, God,” I moan as he cups my breast.
“Now think about how much better this will feel when you’re naked.”
“Faye,” I rasp.
Her face is soft, but her eyes go wicked as she keeps reading.
And I’m completely entranced by everything about her—the way her lips form the words, the blush that lingers on her cheeks, the way she tweaks a line here and there as she reads out loud…this glimpse of how she sees me—
And how much I want to be the man from her book for her.
“Say my name, Josie.”
I shake my head, unable to process all I’m feeling, all I need.
He pinches my nipple and I gasp, body arching against his. He takes advantage of my position diving a hand into my pants.
But he doesn’t give me what I need.
Instead, he teases the aching bud of nerves that’s my clit, circles the entrance.
“Please,” I moan.
“Say my fucking name,” is all he says in return.
She pauses, those wicked brown eyes coming to mine. “That’s a new addition.”
Heat blooms in my stomach and my cock is so hard it’s a miracle I even have enough blood left in my brain to form the words, “I like it.”
He rewards his name tumbling off my tongue by plunging his fingers inside me, by slowly driving me insane, and it’s not until I’m shaking, until I’m fully wrapped up in everything that’s the man I love, the man who’s in every cell, every breath, every heartbeat, every thought that my clothes are gently peeled away, that he’s notching himself at my entrance.
That he’s slowly pushing inside. “You’re mine.”
“I love you,” I whisper, my hands covering his as he bottoms out, shuddering as he draws back and—
Fuck, I’d be this woman’s slave just to have her love me like her heroine loves her man.
“…and,” she says softly, gently drawing me out of her story, “that’s it for now.”
I have to force myself to unstick, to move over to her. There’s a vulnerability about her, a thread of nerves. “You’re a great writer, Red.”
Her face lights up and, fuck, but she’s beautiful. “Thanks,” she murmurs.
“But I do have to know…”
Nerves creeping into her eyes.
“…why’d you stop when you were just getting to the good part?”
Relief in her smile…and mischief. “Maybe I need to do a little more research.”
“Need some help with that?”
“Nah,” she says, lips quirking. “I need to find the proper inspiration.” She stands, reaches for her laptop but I wrap an arm around her middle, drawing her flush against me instead.
“How’re are you going to do that, Red?”
She shrugs. “Maybe I’ll call Leo—“
I growl, hold her closer.
She giggles.
“Who’s going to be your inspiration?” I narrow my eyes.
“Hmm…”
The impertinence.
I nip at her mouth.
“Hey!”
Taking advantage of her parted lips, I bend my head, kiss her until we’re both breathless. “Who, Red?”
Her body has melted against mine, her eyes soft and warm. “You know you’ve been my inspiration for the last four years, Gray.”
That truth slides through me, holds tight.
Fuck, but I like that.
“Well then,” I say, lifting her into my arms, loving the soft squeak she makes, how her nails bite into my shoulders to hold on, “I think I’d better see about giving you even more inspiration to finish that scene.”
“What about dinner?” she asks as I tug open the door to the house.
I kiss her. “I’m hungry for something else.”
“Good,” she murmurs, pressing closer, hand sliding down my chest. “Because I’m starving for you too.”
There’s a flicker of movement on the edge of my vision but when I turn to look, Faye’s hand slips into my pants, her fingers wrapping tightly around my cock. I groan, bend down to kiss her…and that odd shadow is suddenly the last thing on my mind.
I slam the door as our tongues tangle, revel in the sound of her moans as I carry her upstairs, and when I drop her onto our mattress, strip her clothes off, and then part her legs, kneeling between them…
I see about being inspiring.
“Roberts!” Coach calls as I leave the ice the next day.
Something about the look in his eyes has my stomach churning.
“Yeah, Coach?”
He just tilts his head, indicating I follow him, so I do—through the maze of corridors, neither of us stopping until we’re at his office.
He pushes open the door and I trail him inside.
“Shut it behind you.”
Fuck.
What has Courtney done now?
“Grab a seat,” he mutters and I drop into the chair across from his desk, worry burning the back of my throat. “I need to warn you about something.”
Fuck.
“What?” I rasp.
“The social media team came across this—”
He holds out the tablet and even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I take it, I hit play.
“…and in other news, our own Gray Roberts is a bona fide hero. My sources confirm that he rescued a woman from a serious house fire at great risk to himself…”
“Fuck,” I whisper, setting the tablet on the desk.
“Toni”—the team’s publicist—“is already getting interview requests.”
“No fucking way.”
“I figured.” He studies me closely. “I heard about you and…”
“Faye,” I say quietly.
“Faye,” he repeats and I don’t miss the question there.
“She’s my…” A beat. An exhale. Not fighting the truth. “She’s just mine.”
A nod. “I heard about you two in the locker room. I didn’t realize you were serious.”
“We are.”
“Courtney?”
“We’re done. Paperwork is filed. She’s out of my life.”
He leans back in his chair, goes back to studying. “Let’s hope, for everyone’s sake, that’s true.”
Isn’t that the fucking truth?
“No interviews,” I say as I push up to my feet.
“I’ll pass that along.”
“Thanks.” I turn for the door.
“Gray?”
I glance back.
“Good luck with your Faye.”
Why do I feel like I’m going to need it?