Page 99 of Risking the Pucking Defense

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, goddess.”

Goddamn.

Hayden

“Hails?” I whisper, but there’s nothing but heavy breathing in response.

She’s asleep.

“Hails, baby. We need to get you to bed,” I say softly as I unwrap my arm from around her waist and push myself so I’m hovering above her.

My eyes track every inch of her peaceful face, my heart seizing at the fact that I get to see her like this. All her walls are down. She’s not the fierce PR Director we all know and love.

She’s Hailee.

A daughter, a sister, a friend.

As gently as I can, I get to my feet before sliding my arms beneath her and lifting her against my chest.

I could leave her there. Her couch is pretty comfortable, but her bed will be better.

She snuggles against my chest, letting out a little moan of contentment.

Fuck. That one little sound is enough to bring me to my fucking knees. Or at least, it might be if I weren’t carrying her.

Holding her a little tighter, I kick open her bedroom door and get my first look at the space.

Just like the living area of her apartment, it’s really homey, and she’ll probably hate that I’ve discovered this, but it’s girly and cute.

I smile as I take in the pillows littering her bed along with not just one but a handful of stuffies. Fuck, I love seeing the softer side to this woman.

After managing to pull back the comforter, I reluctantly lay her down, and then cover her up.

“Sweet dreams, Hails,” I whisper, pressing my lips against her temple, lingering a few seconds longer than necessary. “I know mine will be.”

“Hayden,” she whispers as I stand and back away.

My heart races, the other side of her bed tempting me to lie down beside her.

But I can’t.

I want to, but I can’t.

Forcing myself to walk out of that room is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Every single muscle in my body screams for me to stay, to curl up beside her and fall asleep with her in my arms.

I swear, I don’t breathe until I close the door behind me, and even as I tidy up her apartment, I question my decision.

Leaving might be the right thing to do, but fuck, it doesn’t feel like it.

I know being here is wrong. I’m putting her at all kinds of risks, and that isn’t fair. But then she gives me the kinds of things she has tonight—and I don’t just mean physically. The way she supports me by just being there. The looks that keep me going, the understanding in her touch, all of it is everything I need.

She is everything I need.

But I can’t have her.

With her apartment tidy and the evidence of our late-night meal gone, I gather up my things and let myself out, double-checking that her door is securely locked before I take off.

Each step is harder than the last, and not just because I played my first full game of hockey tonight, but because of the woman I’m walking away from.