But it’s probably better this way.
Ever since she banned me from touching her, unless we’re in public, all I can do is think about the ways I want to do just that.
When we’re on the couch, and she’s just wearing an oversized shirt, I can’t stop thinking about wrapping my hand around her thigh, feeling how warm her skin is, how soft it is. I want to reach out and tuck the loose lock of hair behind her ear, watch her shudder when my fingers brush over that sweet spot just an inchbelow her lobe. And fuck, I’m desperate to wrap my hand around the back of her neck, drag her body on top of me, and kiss the living daylights out of her before laying her out beneath me, spreading her thighs, and finally discovering what she’s wearing beneath that shirt.
But I can’t do any of that, and it’s driving me fucking crazy.
I’ve never held back before. I’ve never followed the rules.
I’m more of a take-what-you-want-and-fuck-the-consequences kind of guy. Exactly the reason we ended up here in the first place, I guess.
But as much as I respect Bea and the boundaries she’s put in place, fucking hell, I want her.
“What did you want for dinner?” I ask after I’ve drained my water. Any hope I had that the coolness of it would dampen the fire burning inside me is shattered the second Bea meets my eyes and smiles.
“I don’t mind. Hayden, are you hungry?”
I can’t help but snort a laugh.
“Did you really just ask a professional hockey player if he’s hungry?”
Her cheeks burn all over again.
“Good point. Hayden, would you like to stay for dinner? Everett’s ordering in.”
Monroe looks between us. He wants to say no because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. But deep down, he really wants to stay. “I…um…I don’t…”
“It’s fine. Any requests?”
“Anything. I’m easy.”
“So I’ve heard, but I haven’t seen the evidence.”
“Unlike you, Mr. Fuckboy Donnelly,” Bea quips before slamming her lips shut and nervously glancing at Monroe.
We might not be out in public right now, but in front of everyone, our relationship needs to look real. The more peoplewho know the truth, the more chance we have of fucking up. Or at least, that’s what we agreed on the other night.
Parker and Linc know the truth. So do Sienna and Hailee. But that’s it. As far as anyone else is concerned, we’re the real deal.
“Oh shit, bro. Bea’s got your number,” Monroe laughs.
“Well, it’s not hard,” Bea replies, her shoulders relaxing. “I feel like there are two things the world knows about Everett Donnelly.” She lifts her hand and holds up one finger. “One: He’s a beast on the ice.”
Pride swells in my chest. I fucking love that she came to watch my games and got involved in a game she had no idea about.
“Two: He never turns a woman down.” That previous pride shrivels and dies. “That’s all changed now, though, hasn’t it, baby?”
I force a smile. “Sure has. Since I found you, I’m a one-woman guy.”
Bea beams at me, completely unaware that I’m dying inside because of how painfully true that statement is.
I know I told her that I haven’t been with anyone else since I was with her, but I don’t think she believed me. It hurt, and it was a stark reminder that our relationship is going to come with a whole heap of questions.
As Bea just pointed out, Everett Donnelly has never been a one-woman guy, so what changed? Why Bea? And why now, when my world continues to spin out of control?
Is anyone going to believe this? Or are we fooling ourselves to think we can make any of this work?
“Yeah, you’re the only woman I see, sweetheart. Excuse me, I need to shower. I’ll order pizza,” I shoot over my shoulder when I remember that I was meant to be doing something.
