Page 49 of Unrivaled Love
And we grew up together so we knew each other before we rose to fame. My next inhale feels like an expansion. Like the line to the past that was holding me back has gone slack.
“I’m…I’m tired.”
“Oh,” Bryson’s face falls and he shifts back. “I can leave you alone to rest then.”
“No, not like I-need-a-nap tired.” I reach out to pick at the non-existent lint on his shoulder just so I have something to distract me from looking into his eyes. I don’t want to see his disappointment. “I’m exhausted, I think. Tired from having to beonall the time. Everything caught up with me. The schedule, the demands, the expectations. I hate the off-the-field shit.” There, the truth without the details of my breakdown.
“Oh. Yeah. I get that.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I love playing but I dunno. I kinda feel like, what’s the point?”
“Really? But you just won The Stanley Cup.” I remind him.
“Yeah, we did. But now what? Like I put myself through hell to get there. My entire life built up to that championship. It was difficult, impossible at times. I’m supposed to just buckle up and do it all over again?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” He is making no sense right now. “The entire point is to be the best there is. To play your heart out. Winning is the point. I wake up every morning sore from training and get dressed to do it again because the game is all there is.”
“You don’t get it, Jo.”
“Oh, because I’ve never won a championship.” I sass at him, barely masking my bitterness. We’re all aware he’s the more successful athlete, he doesn’t need to rub it in.
“No, that’s not it.”
“Sure.” I grumble sarcastically and I stand back, breaking our physical connection. My irritated march out of the room is cut short when Bryson grabs my arm.
I spin out of control but he catches me and pulls me to his chest. His hands move to my ribcage and he holds me upright. I don’t dare move a muscle. I feel every wild beat of my heart as I wait for what happens next.
“I want to do it differently this time.” He says with frustration.
He steals the follow up questions from my mouth with a kiss that feels like riding a shooting star. My soul soars from my chest and my knees wobble in the aftermath. His grip tightens and his thumbs brush the underside of my braless chest. My hands travel up into his hair and my body takes over.
His lips travel over mine firmly but with enough give that I can take what I need too. I feel like I’m falling and being caught all at once.
My body warms under his attention and my arousal surges with each press of his lips against mine. His tongue sweeps in like he is desperate to be inside me and with a small shift of my feet I feel his erection against my thigh.
The full body signal to open my legs for Bryson startles me.
“Bryson, stop.” I breathe and force space between us with a long stride backwards.
“I don’t want to stop. I want to kiss you.” He says with a step forward. And, yeah, I hear you, body, you don’t want to stop either. But my brain has finally caught up. The last thing I need to do is make myself feel better by sleeping with Bryson. Where could this possibly go? We both have lives outside of this bubble. Commitments. Obligations.
I’m not so hard off that I need to climb my childhood best friend like a tree.
Well, I am. But still.
What happens when we leave?
“We still need to figure out the power company situation and how to get my car out from under an electric pole and no one knows we’re here so unless we hike several miles to town we’re stranded. And the ice in that damn cooler has probably melted so our food is rotting.”
“I’ve got protein powder, we can survive on that.” Bryson smirks like he saved the day.
“No, you don’t.”
“What?”
“You don’t have protein powder because I switched it for flour.”
