Page 9

CHAPTER EIGHT

Coulton woke before Ainsley the next morning. Pushing himself to his elbow, he studied her face as she continued to sleep. This was the only time he saw Ainsley with her guard down. Her face was peaceful, her lips curved in an almost smile.

He swore his heart had cracked in half the night she’d told him she didn’t let herself dream. While he had replayed their first date countless times in his mind over the last four days, cursing every single minute he was on the road and away from her, it was that conversation about her lack of dreams that kept coming back to him.

He lightly ran his hand over her hair, careful not to wake her. He’d expected her anger last night. God, he had cursed a blue streak when he broke his phone and realized he couldn’t call her. He’d driven his teammates insane with his constant bitching and climbing the walls, aware of exactly how Ainsley would interpret his silence.

He’d made her write her number down on a piece of paper on their ride to his place from the tavern last night. That slip of paper was now a permanent resident in his wallet.

She’d definitely intended to send him packing when he first arrived at the bar, and while he’d felt the slightest bit of trepidation about that, he also couldn’t help but be thrilled by her ire. Because it meant she was starting to care about him too.

Every step forward with Ainsley was followed by two steps back, but he didn’t mind. He meant what he’d said to her. She was incredible and worth the effort. The time away had only solidified his belief that there was something truly special between them. Something worth fighting for. So Coulton was determined to stay the course, to win her trust…and, God willing, her heart.

Ainsley stirred, her eyes opening slowly. She stretched her arms above her head, the action shifting the sheet low enough that he could see her tits. She wasn’t shy about her body, so she made no effort to cover herself.

Instead, she gave him a smirk. “Are you watching me sleep, perv?”

Coulton laughed. “Yep.” He bent down to kiss her, but Ainsley turned her head at the last second, covering her mouth.

“Morning breath.”

Coulton pulled her hand away. “Don’t care.” He kissed her, then forced her lips apart, showing her just how little he minded.

Ainsley sank into the kiss easily, her hands wrapping around his shoulders. “You’re so big,” she murmured when their lips parted.

“Maybe you’re tiny.”

She laughed softly. “Tiny is just a nice word for too skinny.”

He liked this early morning version of Ainsley. Apparently, she needed a cup of coffee in her before she managed to re-erect her walls.

Coulton ran his hand along her side, aware of how thin she was, just as he suspected the ribs he felt were a product of hunger, not dieting or genetics. He looked forward to feeding her breakfast, because shit—there was nothing hotter than listening to Ainsley moan after each bite of food. He’d been hard enough to drive nails into concrete that night on the yacht, as she closed her eyes in bliss during each course.

“What are your plans for the day?” he asked.

Ainsley frowned, and those walls that didn’t exist when she was asleep flew back up. “Why?”

“Because I want you to meet my Little Brother.”

“Thought you said you were an only child,” she joked.

“I mean Slade.”

“Jerome’s cousin?”

Coulton nodded, recalling Jerome and Ainsley’s friendship. “Do you already know him?”

Ainsley shook her head. “No. Jerome and I just had friends in common back in school, so we weren’t super close. When we hung out together, it was usually somewhere around school or at someone else’s house.”

“And where exactly did you go when you skipped algebra to get stoned?” he asked, with a shit-eating grin.

“Jerome has a big mouth,” Ainsley grumbled, though he could tell she didn’t care. “You ever get high?”

Coulton shook his head. “No. My rebelliousness in high school was limited to stealing beer from my dad’s stash and drinking it in an orchard on the outskirts of Detroit with a bunch of my buddies a few of times.”

“Wow. You were a wild child,” she teased. “Your poor parents.”

“Most of my time outside of school was spent on the ice, either at practice or in games, or on the road for travel team. Guess my entire life has been pretty one-note.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” she said. “Just proves how committed you were to your goal. Meanwhile, I got into all sorts of trouble because I was bored.”

“That’s why I think the Big Brothers Big Sisters program is so important. Slade was falling into bad habits, hanging out with the wrong crowd. You’re going to love him.”

Ainsley gave him a knowing look. “Back to that, are we?”

Coulton laughed. “Yep.”

She sighed. “I don’t know much about kids.”

Coulton rolled his eyes. “He’s not a toddler, Ains. He’s nearly twelve years old, and he has more personality than twenty people combined. He’s freaking hilarious and likes to think he’s a ladies’ man, so he’ll probably spend the entire afternoon flirting with you.”

Ainsley’s lips tipped up at the corner. “Sounds like he takes after Jerome. That guy thought he could charm every girl out of her panties.”

“Could he?”

Ainsley snorted. “Fuck no. But it was funny as shit to watch him try. Jerome is a good guy. I’m kind of sorry I didn’t keep up with him.”

“Do you see many of your friends from high school?” Coulton asked.

She shook her head. “Not many. I mean, a lot of us are still in the neighborhood, but life took us in different directions. Three of my best friends had kids before we even graduated, so they’re busy doing the mom thing. A bunch of the rest of us are working all the time.”

“Jerome gets together with some buddies to play video games when he’s not at work.”

Ainsley lay on her back, sinking into the pillow. “I don’t have time for stuff like that.”

“Maybe you should make time.” Coulton knew she would dismiss the idea out of hand—and she did—but something had to give. Ainsley worked twelve to fourteen hours a day, six days a week, running a bar out of obligation rather than for the love of the job. It was a miserable existence, and though Coulton wasn’t quite sure how to help her break the chain, that didn’t mean he didn’t want to try. “In the meantime, today is your day off, and I want you to spend it with me.”

“The whole day?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I promised to take Slade ice-skating. You ever been?”

She raised one eyebrow at him, letting that be her answer.

“Rich-person activity?” he asked.

She tapped the end of her nose to let him know he got it in one.

“So, I’ll teach you.”

She looked skeptical, but she wasn’t saying no, which Coulton took as a good sign.

“Wait. Don’t you have a game tonight?”

He grinned, tickled that Miss I Hate Hockey knew his schedule. “I do. I want you to come. The team has a box reserved for family and friends of the players. You can watch the game from there, then come out afterward to meet my teammates.”

She was shaking her head before he’d even finished speaking, but Coulton wasn’t accepting no as an answer. He cupped her cheeks with his palms and kissed her before she could verbally refuse.

“Please?” he said, after a long, deep, and very thorough kiss.

“I don’t think?—”

“Ainsley, you can keep putting up roadblocks, but I promise you, I’m going to knock every single one of them down. I want you to meet my friends.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re important to me, and so are you.”

She didn’t seem to have an answer to that, so Coulton forged on.

“So it’s decided. We’ll have breakfast here, then pick up Slade for ice-skating and lunch. Then I’ll leave a ticket for you at the box office for the game. You okay to get to the arena? Because I can get someone to swing by and pick you up.”

Ainsley smirked. “It’s decided, huh?” She rolled her eyes, then gave in. “I can get to the arena on my own.”

“Excellent. I love it when I get my way.” Coulton punctuated that proclamation with another kiss. He’d meant to keep it short and sweet, but Ainsley had other ideas as she slid one leg around his waist. Coulton accepted the unspoken invitation by climbing over her and dragging the kiss out…then down. His lips slid along the side of her neck until he reached her breasts. He sucked on one nipple while he pinched the other. Ainsley hooked her ankles together at the base of his back, his hard cock pressed between them.

“I can’t fucking resist you,” he murmured, lifting his hips until the head of his cock was right where he wanted it.

“Need you,” she gasped, her head thrown back as he sucked on the sensitive skin of her throat.

Coulton slipped inside, not stopping until he was buried deep. Then he raised his head, his eyes locked with Ainsley’s. Their gazes held as he started to thrust, neither of them looking away. He had no idea how she said so much with those sad, beautiful eyes of hers. Even now, fear and doubt still lingered there. What would he give to banish those feelings once and for all?

He suspected Ainsley saw very different things than he did when she looked at herself in the mirror. It was a shame, because if she looked deeper, she’d see the things that were pulling him in, drawing him closer.

Determination and strength. And, while she would deny it, every now and then, he saw a glimmer of hope for a better life. She might say dreaming was pointless, but there was still a part of her longing for more, and he wanted to be the one to give it to her.

Ainsley started to turn her head when the connection between them grew too strong, his thrusts powerful, relentless.

He cupped her cheeks, holding her steady. “Don’t look away,” he demanded.

She narrowed her eyes briefly, discomfort mixed with stubbornness. It faded quickly, however, softening, resembling that peace he’d seen on her face before she woke up.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

Ainsley’s pussy clenched, tightening around him until his vision became cloudy. He was falling hard for this woman. It was probably too quick, but he didn’t give a shit. Everything about her appealed to him in ways he’d never experienced. Not even with Evelyn. His feelings for his ex paled in comparison to the emotions Ainsley evoked inside him.

She revealed a side of him he didn’t realize existed as he sought to protect her, spoil her, claim her. He’d never once looked at a woman and thought “mine,” but as he stared at Ainsley, he was overwhelmed by a possessiveness and a need he was helpless to contain.

“Coulton,” she said on a gasp, when he brushed her G-spot. “I’m coming.”

“I’m with you,” he said. “Together.”

Several more thrusts and he felt her tip over, her pussy clamping around his cock so hard, he was helpless to stop from following her into the void.

They remained still, their bodies and eyes connected, as they fought to catch their breath. Coulton was overwhelmed by the desire to say three little words to her, but he held them back. Ainsley wasn’t ready to hear them, wasn’t ready to believe them.

So he would wait.

Shifting to his side, he fell heavily to his back next to her. “Shower and breakfast?”

She nodded. “Sounds good.”

“And then Slade and ice-skating.”

She groaned at that part of his list, but he wasn’t letting her back out. Pushing himself up, he climbed off the mattress, reaching out to tug her toward him. He gave her a quick kiss as she stood.

“Come on. I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine.”

She laughed. “Deal.”

* * *

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Ainsley said as she clung to him, struggling to find her footing in the ice skates. Meanwhile, Slade was skating circles around them, offering advice on how best to teach her.

Coulton was tempted to point out that six months ago, Slade had been in the same boat as Ainsley, a newcomer to ice-skating.

Although Slade had learned a lot faster. The three of them had been on the rink for nearly an hour, and Ainsley was still fighting to merely balance on the skates.

“What the hell must be wrong with someone that makes them think, ‘Hey, you know what would be fun? Strapping sharp blades to our feet and sliding around on ice.’”

Coulton laughed. “You’re thinking too hard. Haven’t you ever roller-skated? Rollerbladed?”

“Those all classify as rich-people activities,” she pointed out, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

Slade got a kick out of Ainsley’s comment. “Golf is a rich-people sport,” he said, adding to her list. “And that game they play in the fields with sticks.”

“Lacrosse,” Coulton said. “So what’s a poor person’s sport?”

“Basketball,” Ainsley and Slade replied in unison.

As Coulton had said, Slade had taken to Ainsley in an instant. Hell, Coulton had spent a good part of the day feeling like a third wheel as Ainsley and Slade talked about all things Cherry Hill. They’d attended the same schools, so Ainsley asked what teachers were still teaching. Then, they argued over which corner deli was the best. She’d even regaled Coulton and Slade with some funny stories about Jerome in high school.

“Okay. Let’s try this from a different angle.” Coulton shifted until he was standing behind Ainsley. “Instead of clinging to my arm, I’m going to hold you up with my hands on your waist. I’ll push you forward, while you work on moving your feet correctly. Okay?”

She gave him a dubious look that he ignored.

Coulton held on to her as promised, slowly moving across the rink.

Slade—the show-off—skated backward in front of them, offering words of encouragement. “You got it, Ains. Now, put more pressure on your right foot because you gotta make the turn.”

After a couple of laps around the rink, Ainsley finally seemed steadier, and when he released her waist, his hands hovering close to catch her if needed, she managed to propel herself forward and even managed to make a turn.

“I’m doing it!” she said excitedly.

Slade started clapping. “You’re doing awesome! Look at us skating like rich people.”

Ainsley stumbled slightly when she laughed at Slade’s joke.

The three of them continued to skate for another hour, Ainsley’s confidence growing with each lap she completed. With her able to support herself, Coulton and Slade started doing tricks to entertain her, spinning circles, racing each other up and down the ice, and skating backward.

“Next time, I’ll bring a stick and puck,” Coulton said to Slade. “I think you’re ready to learn how to play hockey.”

Slade rolled his eyes. “You can teach me, but I still want to play baseball.”

Coulton grumbled, his obvious disdain for Slade’s chosen sport, cracking up his skating partners.

He looked at his watch and sighed. “We’re going to have to leave now, or we won’t have time for lunch.” He was prepared for Slade to beg for more time, because the kid was never ready for the fun to end, but when Ainsley said she was starving, Slade grabbed her hand, leading her to the edge of the rink and helping her to the bench where they’d left their street shoes.

The rest of the afternoon passed too quickly for Coulton, who was genuinely enjoying Ainsley’s and Slade’s antics. They continued their list of rich-people things—the food edition—while they scarfed down greasy cheeseburgers and fries. Because it was game day, Coulton’s meal was a lot healthier and boring, salad and a grilled chicken breast.

When the meal was over, they piled into Coulton’s truck, and he drove to Slade’s apartment building first.

“Thanks, Coulton,” Slade said, leaning over the backseat to give him a fist bump. “You gonna keep coming out with us, Ains?”

Ainsley looked equal parts surprised and pleased by Slade’s question. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to see how things go.”

Coulton snorted. “She’ll be back.”

Ainsley narrowed her eyes, but there was no anger behind it. Mainly because Slade started giggling. “You better watch your back, Coulton. Ains is a Cherry Hill girl. No man’s ever gonna tell them what to do.”

“Yeah, Coulton,” Ainsley piled on. “You hear that. I’m Cherry Hill.”

Slade offered Ainsley the same fist bump, then climbed out of the car. Coulton waited until the boy was inside before pulling away from the curb.

“He’s awesome,” Ainsley said, as Coulton headed for her apartment.

“Yeah. He really is. You were great with him,” he said. “You’re going to be an awesome mother someday.”

Ainsley shook her head. “That’s never going to happen.”

He frowned. “What’s never going to happen?”

“Me and kids.”

“You don’t want to have kids?” Coulton definitely wanted a family.

“I wouldn’t put a kid through having me as a parent. Jesus. I’d be terrible.”

“Why do you think that?” he asked.

“It’s not like I had the greatest role models, Coulton. My dad is an abusive asshole, and my mom split.”

“So what? Those things aren’t genetic, you know. Truthfully, I think your parents—without meaning to—have probably guaranteed you’ll be a fantastic mom. Because you know exactly what not to do. And I know you, wildcat. There’s no way you’d ever treat a child the way you were treated.”

She didn’t reply to that, but he could tell his words had resonated.

As he pulled up in front of her building, he parked by the curb and turned off the engine.

Ainsley twisted to face him.

“Ticket will be at the box office for you,” he said.

“It’s kind of been a long day.”

Coulton reached over the console and placed his hand on her leg. “You’re coming to the game.”

Ainsley sighed. “I just think it’s too soon for me to meet your friends. Maybe we should pace ourselves.”

“You were worried about meeting Slade and look how well that turned out.”

“Yeah,” she said, “but he’s just a kid. And from Cherry Hill, so he gets me.”

Coulton chuckled. “My friends are going to get you too. Trust me when I say you’re just the right kind of smart-ass for Tank. And my buddy Victor is going to give you a run for your money when it comes to dropping the F-bomb.”

She grinned. “Fine. I’ll come to the game, but can we wait to decide about the after-party until…later?”

He decided to let her think that was an option, mainly because he was worried she might still bail on coming to the game. “Sure. Now…what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Working at the tavern,” she replied. “Why?”

“I was hoping you would have dinner with me and my parents.”

“Pass,” she said quickly. “Hard fucking pass. Jesus. I just said we needed to pace ourselves.”

Coulton lifted one brow. “And I didn’t agree.”

She rolled her eyes, then watched him curiously when he reached for his keys, pulling one off the ring to hand to her.

Ainsley didn’t budge. “What’s that?”

“The key to my apartment.”

Her eyes widened. “What the hell are you giving me that for?”

Coulton shook the hand that held the key, trying to get her to take it from him. “I’d feel better if you had it. If you ever need a place to stay.” His gaze traveled beyond her, taking in the dilapidated apartment building.

Ainsley shook her head. “No. It’s way too soon for that. We don’t know each other well enough for you to give me the key to your place.”

“Bullshit. Would you just take the thing? It would make me feel better,” he added.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like you living with Mick and Eli. They’re sadistic pricks. Plus, those two assholes who beat you up are still out there. My building, unlike this one, has a security system that would make it impossible for them to get to you if they decide to come looking.”

“They’ll come to the tavern if they’re looking. Not here.”

Coulton took in a long, slow, deep breath, and closed his eyes. “That doesn’t make me feel any better, Ains.” Tired of arguing about it, he reached out, grasped her hand, forced her closed fist open, then dropped his key on her palm. “I’ll text you the code to the building.”

“I’m not staying there,” she stubbornly insisted.

“Think about it. You’d have access to the bathtub. You could watch movies on the big screen. You could sleep in my bed. You said it’s comfy.”

“You don’t fight fair.”

“Never said I did. You can even play with Sofia.”

She grimaced. “Stooping to using that adorable hamster against me?”

“Is it working?”

She grinned. “Truthfully? You had me at bathtub.”

He laughed, then leaned forward to give her a kiss. “It would make me feel better knowing you were at my place when I’m out of town.”

The baffled look she shot him was classic Ainsley, and it told him he still had his work cut out for him. Not that he was surprised. Ainsley had spent her entire lifetime being let down by everyone who was supposed to care about her. He probably wasn’t making things easier by moving them at this breakneck pace, but like her, he was a fish out of water. He couldn’t make himself slow this down if he tried, because he wanted everything with her, and he wanted it right now.

“Yeah, well. I meant what I said. I don’t have any intention of using it, but I guess if there was an emergency, it would be good to have. Oh, and for the record,” she added. “Giving me the key to your place is not slowing things down.”

Coulton leaned forward, tipping her face up with a finger under her chin. “Thank you for taking it.” He placed a soft kiss on her lips, then pressed his forehead to hers.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered quietly.

“I won’t,” he vowed, her soft, desperate request breaking and claiming his heart simultaneously.

And in that moment, he stopped pretending.

He was in love with Ainsley Hall.

Now he just needed to get her to fall too.