Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
“If I ride with you, you’ll have to bring me back in the morning,” I remind him.
A wicked, slow smile. “That isn’t a problem. I drive right by here on the way to the arena for practice.” His voice does insane things to my insides.
I don’t even try to answer. My body answers for me, already moving closer.
His hands settle at my hips, palms wide and possessive like he’s staking his claim. I melt straight into him. All my sharp edges get blurry. “Just let me head upstairs to pack a bag.”
“I’ll come with you,” he whispers in my ear, and the heat in his breath almost liquefies me.
“That isn’t a good idea. If you come up with me, we’ll never make it back to your place.”
“Then I’ll just wait for you here.” He smirks and sits back down on one of the bar stools.
CHAPTER NINE
HARRISON
I tap the elevator button, Daisy right at my side, the city sprawled out through the glass behind us. She’s got her go-bag slung over one shoulder, her ponytail tugged tighter than ever.
She’s quiet, a different kind of quiet than her silence at the bar. Her shoulders don’t budge from the set line she picked up on the floor, but I catch a tremor in the way she shifts her weight, left then right, like standing still is the hardest thing in the world.
The elevator dings, and we step out into the bright hallway. She blinks at the tiled floor, follows me down to my door. Every step, she falls further into herself. I get it. When the adrenaline drops out, all you have left is bone-deep exhaustion.
I punch in the code and open the door. The penthouse is all glass, steel, and shadow, and right now it feels twice the size.
Daisy’s first step inside has a hitch, just a split-second lag, like she’s bracing for something. I know that feeling. New space, new battleground. You never let down your guard until you know every inch of the territory.
I kick my boots off at the door. She toes out of her shoes and lets her bag slump to the floor. The jacket peels off next, shoulders rolling under the cotton as she shrugs out of it. Her arm brushes mine as she passes in, and I get a noseful of rose and tired skin and just her. Damn. Even half-dead, she floors me.
Kitchen’s a straight line on the right; bedroom is to the left. She doesn’t even bother to get her bearings. Daisy makes it ten steps down the hall, steps into my bedroom, then drops like a stone to the edge of my bed. Her hands go straight to her thighs, fingers curling in the denim. I track every motion, cataloguing it like I’m studying tape.
She looks wrecked. Beautiful, but absolutely spent.
I lean in the doorway, arms crossed, and let the silence say its piece. The want is still there, gnawing at my ribs. Christ, I could rip these clothes off her and devour her, right here with the city watching. But that’s not what she needs.
Not tonight.
I keep my tone easy. “You look like you just skated a full third period.”
She tips her head up, eyes narrow, mouth barely twitching. “I don’t remember ever being this tired.”
Her voice wobbles at the edge, rough and real in the middle. No banter left, just the last dregs of her running on empty.
I push off the door frame, cross the room in three strides. Drop to my knees in front of her, hands braced on either side of her calves.
Daisy blinks, surprised. I reach for her ankle, lift her foot into my palm. Her sock comes off easily, then the other. I drop them both off to the side, not even pretending to give a shit where they land.
She sinks further into the mattress, shifting to let me ease her t-shirt down her arms. I don’t say a word through any of it. No jokes, no play.
Just me, focused, doing what she needs.
I watch her, making sure she’s good, then drop back on my heels and look straight at her.
“As much as I’m dying to repeat last night, you need sleep.”
She doesn’t answer at first. Just stares at me, eyes locked. Waiting for me to crack, maybe. Waiting for the angle, the sales pitch, the next move.
But there isn’t one.
I hold the moment. Let her see I mean it.
Her shoulders drop another inch. The tension rolling off her is almost visible.
She licks her lips. “If you say so, but first, I need a very long, very hot shower.”
I grin, but it’s nothing like the one I give the cameras. It’s just for her. No noise, no show.
“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She lets out a breath. It’s not quite surrender, but it’s not a fight either.