38. Dean
Dean
The look on Maddie’s face when the elevator doors shut between us damn near killed me.
She tried to hide it. Tried to keep that little flash of disappointment tucked away behind a polite smile because Jake and Luka were standing right there, but I saw it.
Of course I saw it. I see every little thing she does now. The way her shoulders dip when she’s let down. The tiny crease between her brows when she’s confused. The way she presses her lips together when she’s trying not to ask for something she wants.
That look made every protective, needy part of me want to drag her back into the elevator, pin her against the wall, and kiss the sadness clean off her mouth.
But I couldn’t. Not with Jake staring at his phone beside her and Luka paying attention to far more than people give him credit for. I couldn’t tell her that I had to go upstairs first and meet with the coaching staff for ten minutes.
Couldn’t explain that she wasn’t actually sleeping alone tonight. That I had no intention of letting that happen. So I stood there and let the doors close while every part of me itched to call after her.
The second I was clear, I headed up, got through the coaching rundown faster than humanly possible, and practically jogged to my room.
Our room. Because technically we have two. That part had taken some planning.
I called the hotel right after the Denver game and had them switch my reservation and Maddie’s to adjoining suites. The woman on the phone probably thought I was insane with how specific I was about making sure the connecting door actually opened from both sides.
Worth it. Completely worth it. Because there was no chance in hell I was sleeping a wall and an entire hallway away from her after what happened with Tyler.
No chance I was leaving myself with no direct route to her if she needed me. She wouldn’t have agreed to room together. Not yet. She is still too careful, too worried about people finding out, too concerned with lines and appearances and all the things I am rapidly losing patience for.
So this—this was the compromise she didn’t know I made for us.
I step into my room and immediately hear movement on the other side of the adjoining wall.
Cabinet doors. Her suitcase zipper. Soft footsteps. A smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it. She’s right there. Ten feet away.
The shower kicks on a minute later and I laugh quietly to myself, dropping my bag onto the chair while imagining her doing exactly what she always does after travel—stripping as she walks because she hates the sticky feel of airports and buses.
I should probably be a better man than I am. I’m not. I glance at the connecting door. Think about knocking. Think about just walking in and telling her surprise.
Then silence. A very specific kind of silence.
The kind that tells me she noticed the door. I stop. Wait. One beat. Two.
I can practically see the curiosity working through her head from the other side. My girl is nosy as hell. She always has to know. Please let curiosity win.
I rest my hand on my side of the knob, grinning like an idiot. Come on, Baby.
There’s a soft rustle. Then—the faint metallic click of her handle turning.
My grin goes full blown. Knew it. The door eases open. And there she is.
Wrapped in a white hotel robe tied too loosely around that gorgeous body, bare legs peeking out beneath it, hair dry and tousled from changing, cheeks flushed from hurrying around the room.
She looks at me like I just appeared by magic. My eyes drag over her slowly. Taking in every inch. Knowing exactly what is under that robe because I heard the shower running in the background and caught her before she made it there.
Jesus. I brace my hand on the frame because I suddenly need something solid to keep me upright. “Hi, Baby.”
Her lips part. “You’re on the floor above me?” she asks.
A laugh rumbles out of me. I push my side of the door open wider and step toward her. “No,” I tell her, eyes dropping once more to the knot of that robe before lifting back to her face. “I said I had to head there.”
The look she gives me is half accusation, half disbelief. “You let me assume.”
“Mm,” I hum, stepping farther into her room. “You did that all on your own, Baby.”
Her mouth falls open. “Dean!”
God, I love when she says my name like that. Like I’m the most aggravating man she’s ever met and somehow still the one she wants closest.
I take another slow step toward her, my eyes never leaving hers even though every other part of me is very aware of the white robe tied around her body and the fact that there is absolutely nothing under it.
“I knew if I told you we were adjoining you would overthink it,” I say.
She narrows her eyes. “I do not overthink.”
I lift one brow.
She huffs. “Okay, rude.”
A laugh slips out of me, low and warm, and I finally reach for her. My fingers hook loosely in the belt of her robe and tug her closer until her bare toes brush mine.
“I didn’t want to be away from you,” I tell her honestly.
Every teasing line on her face softens. Just like that. Because she knows me well enough now to hear the deeper meaning under the words. Not after yesterday. Not after Tyler. Not after seeing her backed into that office corner while my heart nearly stopped in my chest.
My hand slides from the robe tie to her waist, flattening there. “I needed to know I could get to you.”
Her eyes search mine. “Dean…”
I shake my head once, brushing my thumb lightly over the edge of the robe. “Humor me, Baby. I’m still one bad thought away from kicking in every door on this floor just to make sure no one else is near you.”
That gets the smallest smile. “There are innocent tourists on this floor.”
“Collateral damage.”
She laughs. Actually laughs. And the tight knot that has been sitting in the center of me since this afternoon loosens a little. I lean down and press my forehead to hers.
“There she is.”
“Who?”
“My girl.”
Her breath catches softly. I feel it against my mouth.
I swear I could live in moments like this—her standing in front of me looking at me like I hung the damn moon, the hotel room quiet around us, the world finally narrowed down to just her breathing and my hands on her.
My fingers drift higher along her side, brushing over the plush fabric.
“So…” I murmur.
She immediately knows where this is going. “Dean.”
I smile against her lips. “Yes?”
Her hands flatten on my chest like she needs them there for support. “You are not changing the subject.”
“I absolutely am.” I let my gaze drop deliberately to the knot of her robe. Then back up. “What’s under this?”
Her cheeks turn pink. “You know what’s under this.”
“I’d like visual confirmation.”
She smacks my chest lightly. I catch her hand and kiss her knuckles.
“Come on, Baby,” I coax, voice lower now, but still threaded with amusement. “I orchestrated an entire adjoining-room operation. I deserve a reward.”
She bites her lip to hide her smile. I am so gone for this woman it’s embarrassing.
I pull her all the way into me, wrapping both arms around her until she’s tucked flush against my chest, robe and all. For a second I just hold her. Because wanting what’s under the robe and wanting her close are two very different hungers and the second one is winning right now.
I bury my face in her hair and inhale. Mine. Safe. With me.
My lips brush her temple. “You scared the hell out of me yesterday.”
Her arms tighten around my waist. “I know.”
“I don’t ever want to feel that again.”
“You won’t.”
The certainty in her voice makes me pull back enough to look at her. She smiles softly. “Because apparently you can break down doors.”
A reluctant laugh leaves me. “Baby, I’ll tear down a hotel if I have to.”
She reaches up, smoothing her fingers along my jaw. And I swear there is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do if she keeps looking at me like that.
My eyes dip once more to the robe. My hand settles over the tie.
“So,” I murmur, voice roughening just a little. I reach behind me and shove the adjoining door closed with my foot.
“About my reward…”
Vegas wins hit differently. Maybe it’s because the city itself feels like one giant bad decision wrapped in lights.
Maybe it’s because we played one hell of a game this afternoon and every guy on this roster is still riding the high of it.
Or maybe it’s because Maddie is six rows ahead of me on the bus and I cannot stop looking at the back of her head.
She’s sitting bent over her phone reviewing clips while Jasper hangs halfway over the seat behind her trying to insert himself into whatever she is doing. Like always.
“Come out with us tonight,” Jasper begs for probably the fifth time.
Maddie doesn’t even look up. “No.”
Jasper clutches his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”
Luka yells from the back, “Stop asking her, she never goes!”
“One day,” Jasper insists, twisting around enough that I can see the grin on his face, “one day she is going to realize I am the fun friend.”
Maddie finally glances up and deadpans, “No.”
The bus erupts in laughter. Mine stays trapped in my chest because all I can think about is how badly I want her in the empty seat beside me. How badly I want to drag her to my side, tuck her under my arm, and stop pretending we aren’t doing this.
But I can’t. So I settle for the little things. The way her eyes flick to mine over the seat when Jasper starts in again. The tiny hidden smile she gives me before looking away. The fact that her foot taps twice against the aisle—the silent signal we somehow made up without ever discussing it.
The whole damn bus is loud by the time we pull into the hotel. The guys are already making plans for casinos, bars, expensive steaks, and whatever other trouble Vegas offers. Maddie slips off with the media crew while I get dragged into a quick rundown with assistants and trainers.
By the time I finally make it upstairs and into my room, I’m exhausted in that wired kind of way where sleep isn’t even remotely possible.