Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Never just relaxed like this.
It’s nice.
Nicer than I imagined it could be.
I press a kiss to the top of her head as the moment settles around us. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this content in my life.
That should probably be a warning sign, but it isn’t. Because it has everything to do with Chey and how right she feels in my arms. How perfectly she fits into my life.
It brings me right back to the realization that I don’t want her to leave. The thought settles at the bottom of my gut like a boulder before I clear my throat, trying to keep my tone casual.
“Your audition’s tomorrow, right?”
Her body tenses. “Yeah, it is.”
Even though I suspect the answer, I ask anyway. “Are you nervous?”
What I want is for her to open up and talk to me about what she’s feeling.
She nods, continuing to stare at my chest instead of meeting my gaze. “Yeah.”
I brush my fingers along her cheek, my thumb sweeping across the delicate skin beneath her eye. “Don’t be. You’re going to nail it.”
“You can’t possibly know that.”
“Sure, I do. You’re so damn talented, Chey. More than you realize.”
Her gaze drops again, doubt flickering across her face. “I’m not sure if I’m talented enough for Broadway.” Her voice grows even quieter. “I’m a reality star, Knox.”
The way she says it has anger bubbling up inside me. At the fact that, at some point, she was made to believe that’s all she is.
“A lot of people see me as a joke,” she adds.
My jaw tightens. “No one sees you that way.”
She presses her lips together before whispering, “Yeah, they do.”
“No,” I say, firmer this time. “They don’t. Not the ones who matter.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, and there’s a rawness there now, emotion she rarely allows me to see.
“If I don’t get this part…” She swallows. “I won’t have any other choice but to return home and do the show.”
My stomach plummets.
Home.
LA.
Too fucking far away.
She looks past me toward the window. “I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want people thinking I should be accessible twenty-four seven. Like my life belongs to the cameras and the public. To everyone but me.”
That admittance hits harder than anything else she’s said. To a degree, I understand what she’s talking about. I’ve experienced it with my own family and career.
I pull her closer until she’s pressed against me, my hand drifting along her back, only wanting to offer comfort. I need her to realize she’s not in this alone anymore.
“The last thing you are is a joke. And if you’re ready for a new challenge, then that’s exactly what you focus on.”
Her breath catches.
“You’re so much more than what people think. And you’re talented enough to do anything you want, Chey. Broadway included.”
When she squeezes her eyes tight, my fingers slip beneath her chin, tipping her face upward until I can brush my mouth against hers. I want her to feel everything I’m not saying. Everything I probably shouldn’t be feeling so quickly.
She shifts, straddling my body until my cock can slide deep inside her with one smooth stroke.
This time there’s no rush or teasing. No desperate need to prove anything. It’s softer and slower. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize this is probably what making love is supposed to feel like.
My mouth drifts over her shoulder, neck, and collarbone. I take my time, wanting to learn everything about her. The way she breathes. What makes her shiver. The way her hands hold on to me like she doesn’t want to let go.
I don’t want her to let go either.
Not ever.
But that’s not my choice to make.
So I show her instead. I touch her in a way I hope conveys just how much she means to me. We move together as if we’ve done this a hundred times before, the rhythm steady. It’s nothing like the breathless urgency of last night.
This is something else entirely. And it matters more than anything else ever has.
Even more than hockey.
By the time we find our release, I know this is it for me. There will never be another woman like Chey. She collapses against my chest, breathing hard, and I hold her there, my hand sliding over her back as her body relaxes against mine, as if she’s always belonged there.
All I can do is hope like hell that’s true.
37
Cheyenne
I stand in the waiting area of the theater, clutching the sides of my purse a little tighter than necessary while glancing around, hoping it’s not obvious that my heart is on the verge of pounding right out of my chest.
Knox insisted on being here for moral support. Even though he couldn’t come back with me, knowing he’s only a few hundred feet away helps.
There are at least twenty people here for the audition.