Page 94 of No Rhyme or Roughing
Yet, I followed her up to the bedroom.
I’d spent the day with Teddy and Rowan in Mr. Valentine’s hot tub. He hadn’t been home, so we’d had the place to ourselves. My body ached from the last string of games, and the hot water had helped, but all I could think about was Sydney. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to tell me it was over, that she didn’t want this to continue.
And now, those words.
She closed the bedroom door quietly and turned to face me. Her fingers tugged at the hem of her soft green tunic shirt. She wore gray leggingsand Crocs—so unassuming, so beautiful.
I reached for her, needing to feel her, but she stepped back.
“Jameson’s going to kill me for this,” she muttered to herself.
I had no idea what her ex had to do with anything, but hopelessness crept up on me.
Sydney pushed a hand through her hair, fiddling with her messy bun. She wore no makeup, her pale skin tinged with pink undertones. Her lips were flushed as she wet them with her tongue. I saw every detail of her—the way she stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, as if preparing for battle, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickened.
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but none fell.
“I…” She sighed. “Fuck, I don’t know what to say. I came here fully planning to tell you I could try to get past my issues, that you and I were worth it, but now I’m standing here, looking at you, and all I feel is fear.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” My voice cracked as I cleared my throat. “Syd, you terrify me. I’ve never wanted something the way I crave you—your attention, your presence. Every time you look at me, it’s like my chest cracks wide open.”
I stepped toward her again. This time, she didn’t move away.
“I’m in love with you,” I said softly, tracing patterns down her bare arm with the tips of my fingers. “Tell me my touch does nothing to you.”
“Of course it does.” Her eyes fluttered closed.
“Tell me you want me to stop.”
“I can’t.”
I crossed the remaining gap, my chest brushing hers, but I didn’t pull her closer. I didn’t take the kiss I so desperately wanted. “When you’re this close, I can’t breathe,” I murmured, inhaling the soft raspberry scent of her body wash. My nose brushed her neck. “I’m fighting for my team, for my career, but all I want is you.”
Goosebumps rose on her skin, but her eyes stayed closed. My fingers found hers, holding them lightly.
“You’re perfect,” I whispered.
“I’m not, Ry,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I’m really not. You can’t say that.”
“Fine.” I exhaled sharply. “You’re damaged, trauma seeping into every part of your life. You say you can’t love me, but you’re just afraid I’m going to break you even more.”
“No, I?—”
“I won’t,” I interrupted. “Sydney Valentine, hurting you would be like cutting out my own heart. Like feeding my limbs to Guardian or letting the entire team skate over me, slashing?—”
Her hand covered my mouth.
“I get the picture,” she said, her large eyes meeting mine. Her breaths came shallow, and her voice was fragile. “Could you?—”
“Yes. Whatever you want me to do right now, yes.”
She nodded vigorously, as though trying to keep her tears at bay. “Kiss me. I really need you to kiss me.”
I touched her cheek, my thumb brushing her bottom lip. My fingers trailed to her ear, her hair, the curve of her neck.
“Girls have to do everything themselves,” shemuttered before rising onto her toes and pressing her lips to mine.
Her entire body melted against me, soft and pliable. I loved the fullness of her thighs, her curves, the way her hips gave me plenty to hold as I lifted her and carried her to the bed.
