He chuckles. “She’s right. You should.”
“Don’t worry about me, Camden Snow. I’m not naïve.”
“Oh yeah? So what is it you know about me?”
I step closer. Mostly because I’m starting to get really freaking cold, but also because I’ve found myself trapped in his gravitational field, and at the moment, I don’t even want to fight the pull. “I know you used to play for the Bolts.”
He nods.
“Were you any good?”
His brows jump, practically hitting his hairline. “So you really don’t know anything about me.”
“That good, huh?”
With a low huff of a laugh, he grips my waist and pulls me against him. “I was a fucking god on the ice.”
I tip my head back and lick my lips. “Bet you’re a god in the bedroom too.”
He shakes his head, but there’s no hiding his cocky smile. “You seem awfully interested in my bedroom.”
“I’m just a girl who knows what she wants.”
“And what is it you want, Savannah?” His voice is low, the gravel in his tone making me clench in delight.
“A fantastic orgasm. Something I’m sure you could provide.”
His eyes dance. “Maybe. But first I want to know more about you.”
I roll my teeth over my bottom lip. “I like to be on top.”
He squeezes my waist again, his hands higher than I’d like. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I. I have fantastic tits. They’ll look incredible when I’m riding you.”
His eyes don’t even drop to said fantastic tits. They just hold mine. “Tell me something real.”
His voice is soft, earnest. It makes me want to spill my everythought. I absolutely despise the urge. Real is depressing. At least my real is. I live in an attic-turned-studio-apartment, yet I still live paycheck to paycheck. And I was never wanted. By either of my parents. I have no family and no savings. And outside of some incredible friends, no one really cares that I exist.
He couldn’t handle my truths. They aren’t sexy. A man who lives in a place like this, who has had the career he’s had and looks like he does, would never understand a girl like me.
I lift my chin. “Real is overrated.”
“I disagree.”
Sighing, I deflate a little. “Our versions of real are very different. You have a gorgeous home and a wonderful career to look back on. My life isn’t nearly as pretty. But if you want me to spill so badly, why don’t you go first? What’s your deepest secret, Camden Snow?”
He holds my gaze, those sharp blue eyes seemingly looking right into my soul. Seeing all my thoughts, all my insecurities.
Then, with a deep swallow, he replies. “I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me enough to stay.”
My heart stutters, and before I can regain control of myself, I murmur, “I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me, period.”
He cups my cheek. “That’s ridiculous.”
Swallowing back the self-pity threatening to escape from the cage I’ve trapped it in, I shrug. “I know.”
“I think you’d be incredibly easy to love,” he rasps. The heat of his rough hands soaks into my cheeks, soothing me.
