Page 33 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Thirty-One

Smitty

My lips parted hers, my tongue sliding inside as I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to the bed, dumping her on it in a way that wasn’t the most graceful.

But I was in a hurry.

Pants off.

Shirt over her head.

Bra straps sliding down her arms. Thankfully, I’d unsnapped it earlier, so it only took a second before she was naked and beneath me.

“I am so fucking proud of you,” I whispered, pressing my mouth to hers, to her throat, her shoulder, between her breasts.

I could feel her heart pounding beneath my lips when I kissed the spot just above it, a rapid thrum-thrum that had less to do with my skills and more to do with the fact that she just kicked ass in the hallway.

Not for one moment did she appear weak.

Not for one moment did I think I would need to step in.

Did I want to?

Fuck, yeah. I wanted to plant my fist in the asshole’s face.

But…that had been Kailey’s fight, and she’d fucking killed it. I needed to buy Marcel a beer, thank him for interpreting his nonverbal command to call security, and the same went for the other guys. Beers all around, and maybe I’d roast some pork, make it a dinner, thank them?—

Kailey shifted.

And I realized that my mouth was a couple of inches from one pouty nipple.

I could plan his grocery list later.

“I think I did good,” she whispered, arching up as I kissed my way closer to that nipple.

“You did fucking fantastic, little bird.”

Her eyes connected with mine and her smile sent my heart pounding even faster than it already was. “I love you,” she said, leaning up slightly and planting my face between her breasts, which, really, was a pretty fucking perfect place to exist. “You know that, right?”

A nod.

A shift of my body so that I could kiss her.

“I know, little bird.”

“You made me?—”

“No.” I rolled to my back, bringing her with me. “No, honey. That was you. That was my little bird, flying from the fucking nest, finding the strength, the bravery to spread her wings and soar.”

She stilled.

“That’s—” A shake of her head. “That’s how you see me?” she asked. “That’s why—?” Her eyes filled with tears. “That’s why you call me that?”

I wiped a tear away. “Because I knew you’d soar, baby. I knew you would find the moment to leap, and you’d fucking soar .”

She inhaled sharply, and there were more tears that I had to wipe away.

“Shit, Smitty,” she snapped after a minute.

“What?”

I’d brought her close, was cradling her against my chest.

“Why are you so fucking perfect?” She pushed up. “Perfect for me . So much more than anything I could have ever dreamed of. You…you give my fantasies life and I love you,” she whispered, fingers weaving into my beard, pressing to my jaw. “You’re perfect.”

“ Fuck .”

She blinked. “What?”

The words had struck me. Hard. Sinking in through my skin, swimming around through my bloodstream, dropping into my heart with an impact that made it nearly impossible for me to breathe, to speak. “Now you’re going to be wiping away my tears,” I murmured, covering her hand with my own.

Kailey smiled, and it sent another impact to my heart.

She leaned in, kissed lightly beneath one eye and then the other, and I knew that she was kissing away moisture, a couple of salted drops that had escaped.

But…she thought I was perfect.

Perfect for her .

And…I’d never had those words before, had never realized quite how much I’d needed them. Perfect. I was perfect. And perfect for her.

That was…

A lot. Everything. Too much. Not enough. Just right .

That feeling of right sank into me, holding me tight, driving me to stop fucking thinking and to flip us over, rolling to my back, wanting to show her exactly how right I could be, how perfect we could be together, how much I loved this woman who I’d wanted to watch soar through the sky and how by her doing so meant that I could fly, too.

I could let go of the dead weight and fucking soar.

Not good enough.

Not strong enough.

Not smart enough.

A disappointment. A failure. An example of mediocrity.

If I hadn’t thought that, if those thoughts weren’t burned into my very soul, I would have been able to shake that off, to not be bothered by the bullshit.

That the words had stuck so deep, struck so hard…

Later .

Now I had the woman I loved in my bed, and I needed to fuck her, to hold her, to make sure she knew how much she meant to me.

Later, I’d process.

Right now?

I drew her up my chest, brought that delicious pussy of hers right up onto my mouth, hands clamping down so she couldn’t escape, lips and teeth and tongue working until she was grinding against me, my name a curse and a benediction as it left her mouth.

I didn’t stop until she was shattering, until I rolled us both over and slid inside.

Then I went slower, showing her how much she meant, how much those words meant.

And later, after we’d both shattered and I’d gotten us cleaned up, I brought her close, held her tight, and I lived a dream I’d always wanted, but never thought I could have.

My alarm killed me.

Fucking killed me.

But we had a skate to get to and a game that night, so I needed to head downstairs and eat.

I’d let Kailey sleep, would bring her something up when I’d finished.

Quietly slipping from her arms, I turned off the alarm, quickly dressed, and slipped from the room. Five minutes later, I had a plate full of sustenance and was heading for a table.

“Smitty.”

I turned.

Saw Hazel.

And frowned.

Because she hadn’t been on the trip.

“Is everything okay?”

“Sit.”

A command, and Hazel wasn’t the type who often gave commands. She was soft and easy and usually worked on the guys with sneaky and underhanded techniques—helping us without us actually knowing we were being helped.

So, the command had me sitting.

“Everything’s fine,” she said. “My mom and dad decided they wanted the perks of dating a daughter who works for a hockey team.” Her face softened. “I hooked them up with tickets for tonight even though they commandeered my son and husband for sight-seeing duties.”

“I…right,” I murmured.

“Now”—the command was back, and I found myself sitting up straighter—“I need to talk to you.”

“What’s up?” I asked, shoving a piece of melon into my mouth.

Her brows lifted. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Churning in my stomach, and I went to make a joke, as I always did, but then her hand covered mine. “Don’t,” she said.

“You’re too late,” I told her, unable to not make at least a small joke. “Kailey already smacked me around with her pretty words last night.”

Hazel’s head tilted to the side.

“I get why you gave me the personality tests,” I said. “I even read them,” I added, in case she thought I hadn’t done the work she’d asked of me.

“Of that I have no doubt.” She squeezed my hand, pulled back and picked up her own glass of orange juice.

“You always work hard, Smitty. So why do you think that I would think any different? Is it because you think the only value you bring to the team is killing yourself to prove that you’re valuable? To prove you’re not a disappointment?”

That struck.

Nearly as hard as Kailey’s words.

No, I didn’t think that.

Except…

“I gave you those tests, not because I believe every word, or thought you would—though I think some positives can be gleaned from them,” she said.

“But because even though they were difficult for you to read”—a look that told me she knew about my dyslexia—“it was a challenge you would be able to overcome. A small one, with something that was difficult. Just like you’ve overcome the big ones. ”

“Right,” I whispered.

“So why, just when I saw you settle down on the ice, not throwing your body around like it was invaluable, killing yourself to get the puck?—”

“What? Am I not supposed to play hard?” I muttered, not liking that she was pulling back the paper that I’d managed to patch over the cracks inside me last night, destroying the work I’d put in with a few words.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

I sighed.

Unfortunately, I did.

Because even with Kailey’s words, there was still a part of me that thought of myself as a disappointment, would remember the sharp words, would store them somewhere deep inside.

Maybe Kailey would give me that sentiment again— No .

She would tell me she loved me, that I was hers, just like I’d do the same.

But unless I dealt with them, the words would always be in the wings, waiting.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes gentling. “So, you’ll talk to me about this stuff? We’ll work on it? You’ll be the open book you pretend to be so that you can live your big, bold, ballsy life?”

That had my lips quirking.

But before I could agree—and toss her a joke…because that was what I did—the elevator doors dinged, and we both looked over. Kailey stepped off the car, her hair a mess, her eyes a bit sleepy. Then…she smiled.

And fuck if I didn’t feel one of the cracks inside me heal up.

“I don’t have to pretend anymore,” I whispered.

“No,” Hazel said softly.

I shifted, managed to get my gaze off Kailey’s, just for a moment, in order to meet Hazel’s gentle brown eyes. “But I can’t rely on just her to fill me up either.”

Kailey waved.

We waved back.

“No,” Hazel said. “You can’t.”

I took a breath, released it slowly. “I still think this point could have been more easily made by letting me break shit at a wreck room.”

She grinned. “But, don’t you see, Smitty? Your superpower isn’t hitting stuff so hard until it shatters?—”

Kailey was almost to our table.

“It’s putting things back together again.”