I could feel him getting closer, but he didn’t pull out, didn’t say he’d rather be inside me when he came. Instead, he took what he wanted, in control and in charge, like last time. I fucking loved it. Loved when he used me. That might be sick, but I didn’t care. All I knew was that I would do anything he asked of me as long as I got to feel like this.
He gave no warning before his warmth hit my tongue, and I drank it down. Every. Last. Drop.
“Fucking hell, Frankie.” He yanked me up and crushed his lips to mine, tasting himself on my tongue as he sucked. “You’re a goddess,” he breathed between kisses. “And you’re all mine.”
I was. His. All of me. Even if it doomed my career or made me the butt of all hockey jokes. I realized as I kissed him again that there was no way I could ever give this up.
Teddy hadno choice but to put his clothes from yesterday back on. When I offered him some of Travis’s clothes that had been left behind, the look he gave me could’ve melted glass. I couldn’t help but laugh—like Travis’s clothes were going to fit the much larger Teddy.
I slipped into a simple blue shift dress, comfortable yet professional enough for the meeting. Teddy groaned when the fabric settled against me, stopping mid-thigh. He tugged metoward him. “That dress is a crime. If you weren’t about to meet with a room full of old men, I’d be jealous.”
"Sullivan’s not old," I teased, just to goad him.
Instead of showing any jealousy, he laughed. “I’ve known that man most of my life. You are definitely not his type.”
“I should be offended,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help but think of Sam—tiny, sweet Sam. Yeah, Teddy was probably right.
“Does it help if I say you’re definitely my type?” His lips brushed the skin beneath my ear as he pressed closer. “My only type. If anyone had their kind of woman in the dictionary, mine would just say ‘Frankie’.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at my lips. I turned to grab my brush and began running it through my damp hair. Teddy stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Can I?”
I turned back to face him. “You want to brush my hair?”
“Hell yes.” His voice was so full of sincerity I couldn’t say no. I handed him the brush and returned my gaze to the mirror. His touch was so gentle as he worked his way from the top of my head, holding the brush with careful precision, not pulling too hard as he tugged it through.
“I’m obsessed with your hair,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving the strands.
I watched him in the mirror, the focus on his face as he concentrated. His hands twisted pieces of my hair together, and I couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up. “You’re braiding my hair?”
He bit his lip, concentrating harder. “I’ve wanted to do this for years. Wanted to run my hands through it, just… spend time playing with it. Your hair is like copper sunshine.”
How could I say no to that? I fully expected to have to redo the braid later, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to keep touching me, to scrape his nails lightly against my scalp and theback of my neck. Every motion of his hands made me feel him everywhere, as if my hair was tied to every nerve ending in my body.
“How do you know how to braid hair?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. I wanted to know more about this complicated man as he moved in front of me.
His smile was different this time—not his usual too-bright grin, but something softer, morehim. “I was eight when Sydney was born. She was the ‘oops’ baby, the one my parents didn’t exactly plan for. So, when I was a teenager, I spent a lot of time with her, watching out for her. She was lucky if my mom even brushed her hair, so I spent hours watching YouTube videos, learning how to braid. By the time I left home when she was ten, she never went to school without two pigtail braids.” He chuckled. “It’s been a while, though.”
The image of teenage Teddy carefully braiding his little sister’s hair, being her protector and person, warmed something deep inside me. I’d had that warmth as a kid too—my parents were good, kind, until everything shifted. It seemed like it was around the same age Sydney must have been when everything changed for her.
“No wonder you two are so close. You took care of her.”
“She took care of me too,” he said quietly. “Growing up in that house… It was cold. Our parents fought constantly, when Dad was even home. Mom was checked out. I had Ryder and Sullivan, sure, but I needed more than that. I needed family. For a long time, Sydney was my person, and I was hers.”
He didn’t need to say more. The silence that followed was enough. “But now, she has Ryder.”
He nodded, twisting the hair tie I handed him into place before smoothing his hand over the braid. His fingers brushed against the nape of my neck, and instead of pulling away, hereplaced the touch with his lips. I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body against mine.
“I’m going to be late,” I murmured, not even trying to pull away.
He made a low sound in his throat, almost a hum of satisfaction. “A phoenix,” he whispered, lips still at my neck. “It suits you.”
“I was twenty and stupid,” I replied, the words coming out with a hint of regret.
His tongue traced the design of the tattoo, sending a shiver down my spine. “I have a confession to make,” he said, his voice low.
“What is it?” I barely managed to breathe as he tugged on my braid, tilting me back farther into him.
“I like you.” His words were simple but deep, and he didn’t let me respond right away. “I know that’s probably hard for you to accept, especially with how stubborn you are, but it’s the truth. This body…” His hands slid down to my waist. “But also, everything else.”
