Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I slip in beside her and she comes to me naturally, settling her head on my chest. I pull the sheet up over us and let my fingers gently stroke the skin at her hip.
“I liked seeing you out there today,” she says.
I keep my hand moving slowly, gliding it up her back. “Out where?”
“The turf. The circuit. The sleds. Ring a bell?”
I don’t say anything, because I know she doesn’t want to reminisce about the competition but rather the camaraderie.
“You were actually in it,” she continues. “With them. Not just going through the motions. I’m proud of you.”
I look at the ceiling and the patterns of light that shift when cars go by.
“They’re good men,” she says, and I know she’s testing out my mood with her words.
“They’re all right,” I admit.
“They’re not looking to take anything from you. They just—” She stops, clearly searching for the right words. “They want to know you… that’s all.”
“Livia,” I say in warning.
“I’m just saying—”
“You’re getting close to something we agreed you wouldn’t get close to.”
She shifts against my chest, and I can feel her thinking. “We’re not in a session.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“We’re in my bed. After mind-blowing orgasms. I thought the circumstances might be conducive to a different kind of conversation.”
I can’t help but snort. “What made you think that?”
“Orgasms are relaxing. Men tend to be more cuddly and vulnerable after they get off.”
I look down at the top of her head. “I can assure you I don’t have a vulnerable bone in my body, no matter how fucking good that orgasm was.”
I feel her smile against me. “It really was good, right?”
“Better than good,” I assure her and hope this lighthearted banter signifies the end of her nosiness.
I can’t be that lucky though.
“The incidents on the ice,” she says, and I sigh in partial frustration. Part of me respects her tenacity. “The disciplinary record, the anger flags, the pattern of escalation with officials and opposing players… That doesn’t come from nowhere.”
“What’s your point?” I ask. She’s doing nothing more than reciting my record.
“You’ve been better,” she says carefully. “Not a single incident outside normal, run-of-the-mill penalties in three weeks.”
“There you go,” I say, giving her a squeeze. “That’s progress. Therefore, we probably don’t even need that last session.”
“Nice try,” she says with a laugh, but then she sobers, snuggling into me. “My guess is you’re aware that your job has conditions attached to it now and you’re white-knuckling it. Managing the symptoms because the consequences got real.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve been working hard not to explode, but that doesn’t mean the rage isn’t still there, trying to get out.
Livia’s voice drops low. “That works until it doesn’t, Locke. Whatever’s underneath it is still there and it doesn’t go away because you’ve got more incentive to keep the lid on.”
I stare at the ceiling.
The woman has a talent for being not wrong when I’d most prefer she were.
“So, your professional opinion,” I say glibly, “delivered from your bed, is that I’m a pressure cooker.”
“My professional opinion is that you’re a man who has been managing alone for a long time and that management strategy has a ceiling.” She lifts her head to look at me. “And my personal opinion, delivered from my bed, is that you don’t have to.”
“Don’t have to what?”
“Manage it alone.”
She stares at me, and I know she’s saying that she’s the one who won’t let me be alone with this. But I have no clue if she’s talking about her professional or personal capacity.
It doesn’t matter, because I’ve heard enough. I roll toward her and find her mouth in the dim light. Livia makes a sharp gasp of surprise, but I deepen the kiss with enough intention that whatever she was going to say next doesn’t make it past her lips.
She pulls back a half inch. “That’s not an answer.”
“No,” I agree and put my mouth to hers.
She lets me.
For now.
We both know she’ll get revisit it eventually. That’s the thing about Livia… she’ll put a subject down and let it sit, then return to it when the conditions are right.
I won’t see it coming until it’s already hit me.
I’m aware of all of this and the danger she presents, yet I kiss her anyway.
Chapter 22
Livia
The conference room on the executive floor has floor-to-ceiling windows on the long wall, and I always wonder why they do that in rooms designed to hold meetings. I think it gives too much opportunity for someone’s attention to wander if they get bored, but lucky for me, that won’t be a problem.
While I’ve been in many meetings since joining the Wildfire, I can honestly say they’ve all been far from boring, and I think that’s a testament to how much I love this new job.
Patrick’s assistant Janine has arranged the room with drinks and breakfast pastries, no doubt made in the Blue Line on the first floor. Coach Monahan is seated at the far end, deep in conversation with Van and Oliver. The analytics director, Steve Durham, works on his tablet beside me, making grunting sounds when he reads a piece of data.