Page 85 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Fourteen

Jules

He’d carried me like he never wanted to put me down.

And then he…

Then he’d buckled me in the passenger’s seat.

He’d buckled me in.

That alone had my heart thudding against my rib cage, my palms going sweaty. Because…it meant too much.

So, I went with sarcasm.

That clever tool had been my constant companion for years past.

And as far as coping mechanisms went, it wasn’t the worst.

My tone was dry when I said, “I guess you’re not going to let me drive.”

The incredulous look he shot my way made my thundering pulse settle, had amusement bubbling up and boiling over. I couldn’t stop myself from giggling…and I couldn’t stop the warmth growing in my belly, drifting up to encase my heart at the way his face changed when I laughed.

He dropped one hand off the steering wheel and reached toward me, brushing his thumb lightly over my bottom lip. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

I wasn’t.

Really , I wasn’t.

Okay, so I didn’t think I was ugly. I liked the way I looked—sleek blond hair that didn’t take much work to make look silky and shiny (which was good because I didn’t have time to do more than wash it on occasion and throw it into a ponytail or let it air dry); dark brown irises that reminded me of chocolate syrup, a nose that was maybe a bit too proud, but it was my mother’s nose, my one connection with the woman I’d never known and yet who so dramatically affected every facet of my life.

My skin was clear and sun-kissed from playing outside with Ethan so much, and while my body wasn’t perfect and I’d never fully lost the baby weight leaving me with a good rack, which, yeah, was inconvenient and got in the way, but even I could admit the extra weight there looked good on my frame.

Plus, I was in good shape—a side benefit of having a busy kiddo and a job where I was on my feet all day every day.

So, I was happy in my own skin and body.

But I wasn’t beautiful.

“Cas,” I whispered, shaking my head.

One more brush of his thumb along my lips, the simple action doing everything to remind me of the kiss.

Of how he’d kissed me.

It should have been icky, bustling me into a bathroom and kissing me with the toilets all too close. But it was the way he’d held me and washed my cuts that had melted me, had made me desperate to taste him.

And instead, he’d tasted me .

And oh, had it been good.

“I’m driving you home.”

And since I was firmly in dream kiss land, this time I couldn’t even formulate the smallest protest or dry comment.

He knew it, too, the fucker, his mouth tipping up before he retracted his hand and placed it back on the steering wheel, confident and capable as he pulled out of the parking spot and turned onto the quiet streets.

Not a lot of cars on the road after three in the morning.

And considering it was even later than normal, that wasn’t a surprise.

A hand on my jean-clad thigh, drawing my gaze from the empty street to Cas—or rather, to his hand.

His palm was strong and broad and almost covered the entire expanse of my thigh.

And the touch was hot , almost shocking, as the heat of his hand soaked through the fabric of my jeans.

Hot. Strong. A little rough. I could imagine that hand drifting over my bare skin, sliding up my naked thigh, dipping into the damp heat pooling between my legs.

God, it had been so long since I’d had sex.

Not that it had been all that good with Nate.

I’d had a few tinges, a few moments of pleasure, times where I’d thought I was coming because it felt good.

Thought , because it wasn’t until I’d gotten a vibrator and did a deep dive into my body that I’d understood what I’d had with Nate wasn’t close to everything.

There was more— oh, how there was more.

And I’d bet there would be more— much more—with Cas.

It wouldn’t require a deep dive or toys or severe concentration on my part and intense focus on his.

He’d know .

How did I know this fascinating little tidbit? Because every single time he touched me—whether it be on my face or my hand or my leg—I felt it in my pussy.

So yeah, he’d know.

He already knew how to touch me and make me feel good.

The only problem was that if I allowed all that good to continue, it would ruin everything.

“Wanna tell me where to go, gorgeous?” he said softly, and I shoved the inconvenient attraction from my mind, used another corner of my brain to schedule an appointment with my vibrator, and then put the rest to work on the getting home portion of my evening by providing Cas with directions.

Luckily, I didn’t live far from CeCe’s, so it didn’t take a lot of focus to tell him when to turn (thank God, since my mind was full of thoughts of Cas and the vibrator and the things he could do with it—which, of course, would be eclipsed by the all the better things he could do with fingers and cock and tongue) and to point out my apartment when we’d pulled into the complex.

A little while later, we pulled into my parking spot.

Right.

Vibrators, shoo . My brain no longer allowing any thinking about what Cas could do to my body.

I grabbed my jacket, my purse, reached for the handle of the door.

It opened before I could fully grasp it, but when Cas would have swooped me up again, would have held me against his big, warm body and carried me inside, I put my hand up, shoved against his chest.

“No,” I said, patience finally snapping.

I was exhausted…and I was capable. Of a lot of things, but most certainly of walking the ten feet it took to make it into my own apartment.

“I played along with the caveman thing because that was easier at the bar,” I told him. “But I won’t do it in my own home.”

His teeth clicked together.

I braced for an argument.

But, to my surprise, he just stepped back, let me get out of the car (and get to my own feet).

“Keys,” I said, softening my tone because he was listening and because…

apples and cinnamon and peanut butter, gentle fingers smoothing bandages on my arm, soft lips coaxing mine open, a hot, slick tongue dancing along mine.

He held them out.

I took them.

And look at that. Those ten steps up to my front door took no time at all, and then I was unlocking it, turning the handle and quietly letting myself into my apartment.

Cas followed me, but I didn’t protest that particular development.

First, I had to make sure Mary got safely into her apartment. Then I would call Cas a Lyft so he could get back to his car at the bar.

Then I would sleep.

Glorious, glorious sleep.

Flicking on the hall light, I moved to where Mary was sleeping on the couch, knelt at her side, and gently woke her.

It took a few minutes because Mary was a deep sleeper, but eventually, I managed to get her up off the couch, to gather her things, and to get her into her own apartment next door, Cas making the task a bit easier by unlocking it for me (always the hardest part of the task since Mary’s body seemed to suddenly be full of sand rather than bones).

“Thanks,” I murmured. “Can you wait outside?” I whispered when he went to lift Mary off me. “She’s a little nervous of new people. I know she’s asleep, but I don’t want?—”

“Of course.” He touched my cheek, slipped back outside.

I closed the door, hauled Mary down the hall.

My sitter roused herself enough to kick off her shoes and stumble toward the bed, and I supervised, making sure that she didn’t crash into any other piece of furniture (or any of the crap that was littered around the bedroom floor).

Yawning as I tugged the covers up and tucked her in, I hoped like hell that Matt and the police and Cas got the shit that Chelsea was pulling settled down so there were no more nights like this.

I slipped from the bedroom, down the hall, and stepped out onto Mary’s porch.

Cas was sitting there. Not on his phone. Not looking impatient or annoyed. Just waiting and watching for me.

I inhaled.

Apples and peanut butter and cinnamon.

Gentle touches and scorching hot kisses.

Was I sure I didn’t want more of those?

Because just thinking about not having them made me feel real dumb. Who turned down a man like Cas, who was nice and thoughtful and sexy and strong and kissed me until I stopped thinking? And who wanted me. Me.

No one really wanted me.

No one had ever really wanted me.

And I knew that because I’d been wooed and wowed before. Because I’d thought a man was all of those things before.

And while I’d gotten Ethan out of it…I’d also had Nate.

Who’d left my heart in tiny little shards, who’d broken me until I couldn’t trust my heart with anyone.

Because I’d laid that unprotected organ at his feet and he’d…

Stomped on it.