I just need one step at a time. More time with him. More time getting comfortable. More time understanding the little idiosyncrasies that make him tick. More time finding my way back into myself.
Because when I’m with him, I do.
Feel like me.
Me.
Slowly, slowly inching my way back to me.
“Maybe not,” I admit. “But I also know that I’m greedy.”
His fingers flex. “Greedy?” It’s raspier, those phantom strokes brushing higher, higher.
“Yeah.” I shift closer. “Greedy for more of you.”
Heat in his eyes, but the brush of his fingers over my skin is still gentle.
“Tell me about your parents.”
He stills for a heartbeat then reaches over me and snags the room service menu. “We should order dinner before it gets too late.”
My stomach growls, as though it was just waiting for the opportunity to remind me that I didn’t eat much, well not really anything since Blake called and I hightailed my butt to the airport.
There was food at the fundraiser, of course, but it was the type of finger food that pairs well with alcohol—small, fussy and not filling…so all those donors get tipsy and give more money.
It’s a perfect circle.
But it won’t distract me from the truth.
“You’re good at it, aren’t you?”
His big body goes stiff. “At eating?” His mouth kicks up, but his eyes dodge mine. “Absolutely.”
“At hiding what you really want. What you really need.”
His hand drops from mine and he steps back.
“But it’s okay,” I tell him, snagging his wrist again. “You don’t have to talk about it.” I stretch up, press my lips to his jaw. “We can go slow with that too.”
A jerk, then his hand settles on my hip. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
There is.
But not tonight.
It’s in the lines of his body, in the concern in Blake’s voice and what he shared with me about how their parents treat Colt. It’s in the reality that their parents haven’t come to one team event since he’s been on the roster of the Sierra, even though they live just a short plane ride away. That they didn’t even deign to come to the charity fundraiser he organized for the hospital that saved his brother’s life more than once.
And they didn’t tell Colt they weren’t coming.
A lot.
All of that is a lot.
But we don’t have to talk about it tonight.
“I want dessert,” I say. “And pasta.”
Relief shudders through him and he relaxes, handing me the room service menu. “Well then, you’d better get on ordering.”
