Page 13 of Protecting Player #73 (Portland, Settlers #1 | Gridiron Warriors)
Brea
“ Y ou’re insane,” Adeline whispers through our FaceTime call, trying to hide her incredulity about my ridiculous decision.
“Not clinically.” My teasing is met with a narrowed, grassy green gaze. “Fine.” I roll my eyes. “It’s a little insane.”
“Your parents are going to freak. Alex is going to kill him.” Her tone and bewildered look make me feel like I’ve chosen wrong when, in the moment, it felt like fate.
“I know, I know. Everyone will have something to say, and it’ll all be negative, but it felt right.” I haven’t worked out how I’ll address my contract, and if I’m honest, that’s what worries me the most.
Adeline sighs and sits back on her couch as she stares at me, the small screen doing nothing to hide what she’s thinking. I appreciate her effort in holding back for now.
“How about we focus on the good?” She reluctantly agrees. “T.K.’s giving me the largest of his spare rooms to use for an office.” I enter said room and show it to her. It is twice the size of the one I occupied in the house with Thor and has an entire wall of windows overlooking downtown.
“Holy crap.” She leans forward to get a better look. “Is that a built-in bookcase?” I can just imagine the books she would fill the shelves with.
“Yes, and…” I release a lever to reveal a hidden cubby behind one of the sections. “There’s a safe in here, too.”
She whistles before giggling. “He’s a real Sherlock Holmes.”
“I can be.” Spinning around at that voice, T.K. leans in the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling proudly. “You look good in here.” The heat of my blush burns my cheeks.
“I’ll talk to you later, B.” Adeline hangs up with a smirk, leaving me to deal with the energetic man alone.
“Are you sure you want to give me this room? It feels like a little too much.”
He saunters towards me, and I suddenly feel like I’m being stalked. He’s the hunter, and I’m his prey. “It feels perfect with you in here. In fact, I think it needs to be christened with my mouth between your legs.”
I gasp when he drops to his knees in front of me and buries his face precisely where he just mentioned wanting it to be. Oh, this man makes me weak.
“I…uhm…I think maybe I should unpack my bag?” He tossed the things I needed into a duffel bag, promising to go back for the rest later when he could get a couple of the guys to help him. “And maybe a shower? It’s been a long day. Long week, actually.”
He must pick up on something in my tone because he’s quick to his feet, gripping a hand around the back of my neck while searching my eyes.
“You want to tell me what happened?” he asks softly, but the threat is unmistakable. Not towards me, but towards whoever clearly upset me today.
Patting his chest, I reply, “Not yet. I’m not ready.” I get the feeling that if I do, he’ll launch a full-scale attack on Thor based on assumptions that I can’t prove yet.
“Soon,” he demands, not questioning if I’ll tell but rather that I will.
“Yeah. Soon.”
T.K. leans down and surprises me with a tender kiss on my temple before stepping out of the way to let me pass.
Walking into the main bedroom–our bedroom, I suppose–an immediate sense of calm washes over me.
The room is wrapped in soft grey walls with navy accents that give it a bit of T.K.
’s personality but doesn’t make it feel too imposing.
The bed is probably my favorite piece of furniture, with a floor-to-ceiling navy blue velvet headboard.
The plush material is kind of dramatic but not overdone, and something I would have chosen for myself.
The layered bedding boasts crisp white sheets, a quilt in a lighter grey than the walls, and a few textured navy and white throw pillows. It looks like a dream.
Natural light filters through the sheer white curtains with navy blackout drapes pushed to the side. The plush grey carpet beneath my feet is a warm and welcoming touch, creating a more intimate space. At home, my feet are always cold first thing in the morning on the hardwood floors.
A cozy seating area is set up in the corner by a picture window, with a pair of low, comfortable, matching grey armchairs, and a small, white side table nestled between them.
A perfect place to curl up with a cup of tea and a book in the evenings, or that first sip of coffee in the mornings before beginning my day.
I can picture myself spending a lot of time there.
Off to the side of the seating area is a walk-in closet that feels like a mini boutique.
The built-in shelves are a clean matte white, with drawers in the same velvet as the bed’s headboard.
Soft lighting means I won’t be blinded in the mornings while finding clothes and not being completely awake yet.
There are even two full-length mirrors in between the his-and-her shoe racks, which feels ridiculously indulgent, but I can’t help loving it.
After leaving my bag on one of the benches in the closet, I make my way to the bathroom on the other side of the bedroom.
As I enter, I’m immediately captured by the double sink with a quartz countertop.
Mirrors are backlit, and fixtures are all finished in brushed nickel, giving the space a clean, minimal, and modern appearance.
It’s very spa-like and makes me want to live in here, especially after starting the shower.
The walk-in enclosure is tiled in white marble with subtle grey veining and a luxurious rainfall showerhead that evokes the wilderness. The perfectly heated water relaxes my tense muscles after an overly stressful day of contemplating my future, not only my career but my love life as well.
T.K. is a wrecking ball. Two minutes in his presence, and my resolve crumbles like a mudslide. My feelings for him have always been strong, overpowering even. It’s difficult not to give in to his demands and those feelings while still finding my footing in life.
It’s blatantly clear to me that T.K. is serious about us. The things he says, what he’s doing, I don’t doubt him; I doubt myself. My inability to recognize when too much is…well, too much.
I’m dragged out of my head by calloused fingers on my waist, and Tate standing behind me, leaving the fairest inches of space between us. “What are you doing?” I try my best not to lean back into him. I want to, but I need to be more resolute. Stronger in his presence.
“I recognize that you need space,” he begins, his eyes heating as they hold my stare. “I want to give it to you. I want you happy when you’re with me. I want you to want me because if we don’t have this desire to be together, then I’m not sure I’ll be able to manage my obsession with you.”
At the sound of contrition in his tone, I ask, “What have you already done?” His eyes flare in surprise. Damn, I’m right.
“I hid cameras in your room.” His confession alarms me, but not for the reasons it should. If he has, then he might know if Thor has as well.
“Have you…watched me?”
He shakes his head as I spin in his arms. His bulge digs into my belly, and I nearly lose my resolve again.
“No.” His tone is firm, so I believe him.
“Why not?”
“I’ve crossed a lot of lines when it comes to you, pup, and I’ve been tempted as hell to watch you every minute of the day. Holding back has been hard as hell.”
I think I fall a little more in love with him in this moment.
“What else have you done?” His jaw tenses, and I step in closer to his body.
“You can’t get mad.” That doesn’t bode well. “I stole your panties.” That’s not so bad. “Switched your birth control.” I am not sure how to feel about that. “Put a tracker on your phone.” My eyes narrow, and he sighs before his last confession. “I did all of this while you were sleeping.”
Swallowing roughly, I lean back, but he tightens his hold. “That’s…a lot. And invasive.”
He subtly nods, and a dark lock of his damp hair drops to cover one eye. It’s endearing, and I find it hard to get as angry as I should be.
“I told you. I intend to wife you up, Brea, and I’ll do it however I have to.” It’s hard to be furious when he’s so damn determined.
“Can I tell you something?” I whisper, almost afraid that he might push me away.
“Always.” He stands taller like he’s about to go into battle.
Exhaling heavily, I rush out, “I’ve had posters of you on my walls since I was fourteen.
I used to follow you around and sneak pictures and create a fictitious life for us in the Sims world, and when the game would crash, I’d rebuild.
Over and over until college began, and I finally had to give up the dream of us being together. ”
“You let go of that dream way too fucking soon, wife.” Shocked, I raise my brows. “I told you, Brea, I’m fucking obsessed. There is nothing that would make me back off.”
An idea emerges. “You would…stalk me if I said no?”
“I’ll stalk you simply because you’re mine.”
I lick my lips, almost wanting to beg him to. Does that make me sick, too? “Could you?” I ask, and his eyes darken with an intensity I have yet to see. Anticipation flows through my veins.
I guess I am.