Page 42 of Cross-Checked

I exhale, relieved that’s all this is to him—he’s only taking care of me because he feels obligated, given that I protected Abby.

“You don’t need to do that. I’mfine.”

“Really? Then let’s see.” He rests his hands on my shoulders tenderly, like he knows I’m in pain and wants to make sure he doesn’t hurt me, then turns me so my back is to him.

I suck in a breath when his fingers skim the skin over my spine, and exhale slowly as he grips the fabric at the top of my dress with one hand, then slowly pulls the zipper down with the other.

When I feel the zipper pass my bra, I try to step away, knowing I can unzip it the rest of the way one-handed. But his palm snakes around to the front of my neck, pulling me back to him gently. This beast of a man is cradling my body in his—his rock-solid chest barely touching my shoulders, one arm wrapped around me and cupping my neck in his hand—and I can’t fucking breathe from how turned on I am.

I try to exhale to make room in my lungs for new air, but it comes out sounding a whole lot like a moan.

“You’re going to let me see what’s going on with your back.” His words are a low caress. “So are we doing this the easy way, or the hard way?”

While I know the easy way is to just let him look, my imagination is captivated and my body thrums at the idea of finding out what the hard way looks like. But my confidence fails me at that moment.

“Easy,” I squeak out.

His hips settle against my lower back as his hand trails around to the nape of my neck, then down the bare skin along my spine. Knuckles pressing against me, he slides his hand into the dress and holds the fabric together as his other hand tugs the zipper the rest of the way down in one fluid motion.

He dips his head so his lips are right next to my ear. “Good girl. Now show me where it hurts.”

My entire core clenches in need, my hips flexing back against him without my permission.What the hell was that?

I’ve never in my life wanted to be treated like someone’s fucking pet. Yet here this man is, his deep, gravelly voice melting me with his words of affirmation.

With my left hand, I slide the dress off my right shoulder, and he sucks in his breath so sharply it sounds like a gasp.

“What the fuck is this?” He pulls the dress farther down my arm to bare more of my back to him, and then traces his fingers ever-so-lightly across the tender flesh. I all but stop breathing, but it’s not because of the pain. It’s because of how this gruff man is so tender when he’s touching me.

“I’m fine,” I assure him.

“Like hell you are. I want this dress off so I can see what else is hurt.”

My shoulders shake with laughter. “Yeah, sure that’s why you want this dress off.”

“There is no question that in other circumstances, I’d want your dress off for other reasons. But right now, I honestly want to see how badly you’re hurt. Nothing more.”

The erection he’s pressing against the curve of my spine says otherwise.

“I’m not taking my dress off in the middle of your condo,” I say, nodding my chin toward the walls of windows at the corner of the room, which are uncovered. Outside, the light is fading fast as we approach sunset, and anyone in one of the surrounding buildings could see in here.

“Fine. My room, then.” With his hand on my lower back, he steers me toward the hallway to the bedrooms. “I’m just going to double check on Abby first.”

Earlier tonight, while I was across the hall feeding Tabitha and packing the suitcase he’d laid out for me on my bed in preparation for tomorrow’s trip, he put Abby down to sleep and made us dinner. After collecting my suitcase and bringing it over to his guest bedroom, he fed me.

I don’t know who this man is—I want to think that this caretaking side of him is only because he feels guilty and wants to make it up to me, but what if this is just who he is? And worse, what if I like this side of him a little too much?

“Fine,” I say with a sigh. He’s not letting this go without seeing what condition I’m in, and after that huge pasta dinner with the carb-loading hockey player, I’m getting tired. I just don’t feel like fighting him on this. I’ll show him my back and my hip, and then call it an early night by retreating to the guest bedroom.

That feels like a safe plan.

Chapter Eighteen

McCabe

As I expected, Abby is still fast asleep, but her pacifier is on the floor so I place it back in her crib, hoping that if she wakes up tonight, she’ll use it to self-soothe. Like some sort of a miracle, that worked last night—when I heard her fussing and grabbed the video monitor to take a look, she was chewing on her pacifier and then she popped it in her mouth, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

She’s sleeping through the night about fifty percent of the time now, but I’d love to get to that being the norm every night—I’m a much better dad when I’m not sleep deprived. I hate being away from her when I travel, but at least I get to catch up on sleep when I’m on the road. My teammates all think I’ve turned into an old man since Abby came into my life, but the ones with little kids understand.

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