The memory of the photo I’d been obsessing over for the last twenty-four hours—along with every shred of common sense—slipped right out of my head.
“Tyler,” I breathed, laughter shaking in my voice. “Pretty sure that falls under inappropriate workplace behaviour.”
“Take it up with HR, baby,” he rasped, his eyes dark and triumphant as he steered me into the room, his body pressed firmly against mine.
The door clicked shut behind us. He was fucking lucky nobody saw that, but as he backed me toward the table, I realised I didn't care if the whole world had a front-row seat.
Chapter 37
Tyler
My body was still achingwhen I stepped out of the shower back at the hotel suite. The win had been electric and I was on a high. It was everything I’d worked for, and my leg had held up without so much as a twinge, but that wasn’t the best part. The best part was having her there in my corner for the first time not just as my physio but as my girlfriend. The way she’d sat in the medics’ stand, watching every point like her eyes alone could hold me on the court. Firing me up without even knowing it.
I wrapped a towel around my waist, ruffled the water out of my hair and walked into the bedroom. The sight that greeted me from the bed made my throat tighten.
Orla was curled up on the bed in nothing but my hoodie, her knees tucked under her and that raven hair spilling over her shoulders like silk.
Fuck. I could die happy if this was the sight I came home to every night.
Her gaze flicked up just as I stepped into the room. I felt her eyes land somewhere near the knot of the towel against my hips, a slow, appreciative scan that made my blood hum.
“Kate says good job on the win today. But Jordan says you’re dead in New York,” she said, her mouth curving into a smirk.
“You tell that smug Aussie bastard that I’m coming for him,” I laughed, dropping onto the edge of the mattress beside her.
She tossed her phone aside, and I hooked a finger in the collar of the hoodie she was drowning in, dragging her toward me. I didn't give her a choice. I just wanted her mouth on mine.
“You’re wet,” she wryly protested as I pushed my tongue into her mouth.
“That makes two of us,” I rasped, my hand sliding under the hem of the hoodie and finding the heat between her thighs. She gasped, her body arching instinctively toward me, her fingers digging into my damp shoulders. I was seconds away from losing the towel and the last of my restraint but then her phone buzzed again. It wasn't the short, sharp ping of a text. This was a sustained, aggressive vibration that rattled against the nightstand.
I would’ve ignored it if she had, but she froze.
“Oh, shit. It’s Danny. I should answer.”
Danny. Her brother. The one she lived with back home—the guy who never called unless it was something that couldn't wait.
I leaned back against the headboard, watching her pace as she answered.
“Hey bro, you okay?”
The shift was instant. Her whole body went still, her hand dropping from her hair to her side.
“What do you mean he’s in the hospital?”
My gut dropped. I sat up straight, my heart rate notching up slightly.
“Is he okay? Which hospital?” Her voice shook, one hand pressed to her forehead like she could push the words away.
“Right… I…oh my God… I don’t know what to do… you get over there as soon as you can, I’ll figure something out.” She waslooking around the room like the answer might be hiding in a corner.
The second she hung up, I was on my feet, catching her by the shoulders.
“Baby, what happened?”
Her lip trembled. “It’s…it’s my dad. He’s had a heart attack.” Her voice cracked, and then the sob came.
“Fuck.” I tightened my grip, forcing myself to stay steady for her. “Okay. Sit down. Tell me what Danny said.”
