Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
FARRAH
After dinner at the big house, I head to my quiet apartment. Remy was in a freaking mood, and I can’t with him tonight. I’m also exhausted from watching Nella this morning. It felt like she threw a tantrum every five minutes, and she’s not usually like that. The terrible twos are in full force. Amber got home early from working at the salon, thank goodness. I helped her make dinner and then booked it out of there.
I shower and let the hot, steamy water pour over me, washing away the stress of the day. I spend way longer showering than usual but feel better afterward. I don Bruce’s sweats again; I’ve been wearing them every night. Am I proud of it? No. Am I going to stop? Also no.
I’m curling up on my bed, burrowing my face into the tee and catching a whiff of Bruce’s manly scent, when a light knock comes from my door. It’s so faint, I almost miss it. If I had been watching a show, I wouldn’t have heard the sound. I wait for a moment, just to make sure it wasn’t the wind or a tree. But another soft knock comes from the door.
I grab my phone from the nightstand and see no new texts that came while I was showering. And it’s also after eight at night. Which is later than my married friends usually want to hang out.
Standing, I pad barefoot toward the door and open it. I’m expecting to see Amber or Remy, but my breath catches when a rumpled Bruce appears before me. He looks distraught, his hair a mess like he’s been tugging on it, and his eyes are full of turmoil. The man looks miserable.
“Bruce, what are you doing here? Are you okay?”
He sticks his hands in the pocket of his grey hoodie. “Yeah, can I come in?”
I pause for a second, and in this second, I realize I shouldn’t let him in. I shouldn’t complicate this even more. I shouldn’t want to spend time with him. And I shouldn’t want him to kiss me again.
Also, I probably shouldn’t want to steal the hoodie he’s currently wearing since his scent is wearing off the shirt I already stole.
But even knowing all the reasons I shouldn’t, can’t keep me from stepping to the side and allowing him inside my small apartment. I do a quick glance, making sure my place isn’t a disaster. Thankfully I cleaned last night, and the studio apartment looks tidy. I even made my bed this morning, the emerald-green duvet on the bed pulled up and my decorative pillows neatly placed.
Bruce steps inside, toeing his shoes off and placing them on my welcome mat. He fills the space with his massive form and makes it feel even smaller. I’ve noticed before that the vaulted ceiling is quite low; Remy has to watch his head when he’s up here…but Bruce’s head nearly touches the very peak.
I don’t have a table or chairs in here, just a cream-colored love seat at the foot of my bed and a circular coffee table in front of that.
“Um, why don’t you sit down before you bump your head.”
He shuffles on his feet, his eyes turning up toward the ceiling. “Yeah, okay.”
He walks further inside the room and sits on one side of the love seat. He then drags a hand nervously through his hair.
Not knowing what to do with myself, I join him on the love seat. I thought there’d be more room for me, but it’s pretty tight. I angle my body toward him and study his angular jaw and high cheekbones. He could’ve been a model or actor if he wasn’t such an amazing goalie.
“Bruce,” I say, urging him to look at me.
He finally does, and his eyes widen. “You’re wearing my clothes.”
I glance down at myself and turn bright red. I’d completely forgotten I was wearing his long-sleeved tee and baggy sweatpants.
He swallows, turning to face me. “Farrah, do you want me or not? You look at me like you want me…and you’re wearing my clothes, like you want me.” He leans in a little closer. “Because I sure as hell want you. And damn it, I missed you this week.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, letting his words wash over me. I want you. I missed you.
“Bruce,” I whisper. “I don’t want to complicate things during the playoffs. I feel like everything last weekend already messed up the team dynamic. Remy has been a moody jerk all week. Which is totally unlike him.” I shake my head, and Bruce’s giant hand comes up and gently curves along the edge of my jaw.
“I’ve played like garbage all week, and it has nothing to do with my teammates. It’s because I needed to see you, talk to you, just be with you. I go through my days just hoping you’ll text me again, or that I’ll see you at Whole Foods. I’m a mess.”
I allow my head to fall to the side, enjoying the feel of his hand cradling my face, and burrow deeper into his palm. Bruce takes this as an invitation and leans his forehead against mine.
“If you don’t feel the same, tell me now. I’ll leave you alone. I’ll stop flirting. But if you want me, I have to know.”
His words stun me into silence. His words fly through my mind, and my heart. What do I want? I already know. I want him. I want to give into this thing between us. I want to stop fighting it. I should pause and tell him about my infertility issues, but my brain is too fuzzy with the desire to kiss him. It’s just a kiss, we can talk about everything else later…right?
Unable to speak or even think rationally, I finally answer him by pressing my lips to his. It feels so right, having our mouths fused together again. He doesn’t waste a second, crushing his lips to mine and kissing me firmly. His hand slides from my jaw to my neck, and his thumb gently caresses the area behind my ear. I hum approvingly.
His lips feel just how I remember, but even better because now this isn’t some random guy from a bar. Now I know him. And I like what I know.
Bruce’s big hands move to my waist, right above where I’ve rolled the waistband of his sweatpants. He grips my waist and pulls me onto his lap, surprising me. I inhale sharply at the movement, and we stare at each other for a long moment. I wonder if he’s memorizing my features the same way I’m memorizing his.
My hands come up to touch his thick hair, and I run them through the blond strands. His eyes flutter closed, and I make a mental note that he really likes that before looping my arms around his strong neck. I hold on tight, leaning in and fusing our mouths together again.
I feel him smile against my mouth, pulling away just long enough to whisper, “I love seeing you in my clothes.” His voice low and gravelly.
Then he’s kissing me again. His tongue dips out to taste my bottom lip, pulling a sound I barely recognize from the back of my throat.
The feelings this man can inspire in me while we’re kissing are next level. It’s an attraction that I didn’t realize I could feel, a chemistry so intense I want to melt into it and let it consume me.
A rattle of bars and weights from Remy’s home gym—situated right below my apartment—causes me to fly off the Bruce’s lap. I stand beside the love seat, my breathing coming fast, and my heart is racing as I stare at Bruce. His lips are swollen and pink from our kisses.
“What if Remy sees your truck?”
He winces. It’s subtle, but definitely a wince. “I parked a few blocks down and walked.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, but there’s still a pang in my chest. Guilt. “Bruce, this is crazy. How are we supposed to… I don’t know, date? When you can’t even park in front of my apartment.”
He stands so he’s right in front of me, then pulls me into his meaty arms that make me feel instantly safe and calm.
“Yeux bleus,” he croons. “I want to date you; I want you to be mine. But if you’re unsure, or not ready, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. Whatever you’re ready for.”
“And what about my brother? We just don’t tell him?”
His head pulls back, his expression growing serious. “We’ll tell him. Let’s go tell him right now.”
He starts to pull out of my arms like he’s going to go tell Remy right this second, but I stop him. I loop my hands tightly around his waist and realize even his torso is solid muscle. This man feels like a literal stone wall. “Bruce! You can’t tell him now .”
“Tell him what?” He arches a brow.
My mouth opens and closes as I try to define what exactly we’re doing. What we are.
“I’m teasing,” Bruce says. “We don’t have to put labels on it, not until you’re comfortable. But I don’t share, Farrah.” His eyes look so intensely into mine; I actually forget about Remy for a few seconds.
I nod. “I don’t want to share either. And back to Remy…”
He growls. “I don’t want to talk about your brother.”
Placing my hands on his chest, I push gently. “We have to.”
He sighs and pulls away. “Okay, what to do about your brother. He will barely look at me as it is, so at least we can’t make it worse.”
He says this sarcastically, but there’s a hurt behind those twinkly blue eyes of his.
I think for a moment, considering how to handle all of this. “While you and I are exploring this thing between us, let’s keep it to ourselves. We can get to know each other, and then maybe once the playoffs are done, we can tell Remy.”
Bruce takes a step closer to me, his chest almost bumping against mine. “You want me to be your dirty little secret?”
His eyes come alive in a mischievous way. Yeah, I think he loves this idea.
I shoot him an unamused look. “If I started dating someone, I’d never tell Remy right away. I’d wait until we’d had time together, and then introduce you. Why should it be any different just because you’re one of Remy’s best friends?”
He tilts his head to the side and looks at me in a way that says that’s B.S. and you know it.
“Farrah, I just want to give this a chance. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do. And I don’t think it would hurt to wait before telling Remy. What I do know is I want to see you as much as possible. I want to get to know you, and kiss you, and see you wearing more of my clothes.”
“Okay, I’d like that, too. But only because your clothes are way more comfortable than mine,” I tease.
Bruce gasps, and his hands move to my waist where he squeezes and tickles me. I squeal and writhe, trying to get out of his grasp.
My phone pings loudly, and I jump away from him and rush to check it. I want to make sure it’s not Remy or Amber coming upstairs for something. But what if they did? Am I supposed to hide this giant of a man somewhere in this tiny apartment? And how ridiculous has my life become that I’d even be in a position to hide a man?!
“Farrah,” Bruce cajoles in a calm, smooth tone. “Take a deep breath. You’re spiraling.”
I listen and take a deep breath, then check my phone.
I gasp when I see it’s Remy texting me.
Remy
Are you okay up there? I thought I heard a scream. Is there another spider?
My eyes widen, and I look at Bruce. “It’s Remy,” I whisper-yell.
Farrah
Ha! I’m fine. Just watching a scary movie.
Remy
You hate scary movies.
Farrah
I wanted to try something new.
He has no idea how true that statement is.
Remy
Bruce moves toward me and reads the text exchange over my shoulder. “Do you really hate scary movies?”
I nod. “I don’t understand why anyone would want to watch one.”
Bruce heads toward the small sofa and sits, patting the spot beside him. “Well, I know what we’re doing now.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on,” he says. “We can’t kiss all evening.” he smirks as he says it, knowing we absolutely could do that. But it would certainly lead to more than kissing going by the intensity of the few we’ve shared.
“We could, actually.”
I sit beside him on the couch, allowing our legs to touch. I can feel him staring at my profile when he says, “Am I just a boy toy to you?” I look over just in time to see him drag a hand slowly from his pecs down to the waistband of his jeans. “You just want me for my body?”
I roll my eyes, but my skin is on fire.
Bruce chuckles. “Come on, let’s watch a movie. And you got to pick last time, so this one’s my choice.”
“Fine,” I say. “But if I can’t sleep the rest of the week, no more kisses for you.” I shoot him my best glare, but instead of looking intimidated, he leans in slowly and brushes his lips against mine.
My entire body goes limp, my eyes closing and my body relaxing into him. He pulls away slowly and huffs a laugh. “That’s an empty threat. You like kissing me too much to withhold.”
My jaw drops, knowing he just tricked me. With a harumph, I lean forward, grabbing my laptop off the coffee table and opening up a web browser.
Bruce quickly scrolls through the movies, and when he hovers over Texas Chainsaw Massacre , a chill goes down my spine.
He clicks on the movie, and it begins to play. Bruce wraps an arm around my shoulders and tugs me against his hard body. “It’s okay, I’m here to keep you safe.”
I sniff. “Yeah, until you leave and I’m all alone and terrified.”
“Are you inviting me to stay the night?” He asks, but there’s humor in his voice. “It’s awfully fast for an overnight. But I accept.”
“You’re a shameless flirt,” I say, swiveling my head to look up into his eyes.
His blue eyes focus on my mouth like he wants to kiss me again. “Only with you.”