Page 22 of Playing for Possession
An odd tension coiled in my belly. Exhaustion had made it hard to keep my eyes open when I was downstairs in the foyer, and now I was wide awake. I dared to shuffle the slightest bit away from the edge of the bed. A faint groan rang out from the mattress. The heat of Kieran’s body warmed me. I couldn’t make out his shape, but I felt his closeness like electricity sizzling over my skin.
Kieran’s curious whisper broke the roaring silence. “I suppose you were used to all this stuff growing up? Fans. Private jets. Fancy hotels.”
“Not really. Dad took me on tour when I was young, but I don’t remember much beyond tour buses and crowds. Mum let me stay home for a while, before she got fed up and went back to Paris and modeling. I stayed at home with the nanny. A tutor came to the house for me and my siblings. Most of the time I was alone. I’m better on my own.”
“How so?”
A sudden pain made my chest ache. “I don’t know. It’s just... what I’m used to.”
“Is that why you train alone at the gym?”
The words felt heavy on my tongue. Something about the darkness and the unusually soft edge to his flinty voice made me feel raw and undone. They were simple questions, but he was asking so much of me. More than I’d given anyone before, but then nobody else had ever asked.
“I guess I don’t want to draw attention to myself. My dad kind of does enough of that for both of us.”
The silence lingered for so long that if I hadn’t known better I might have assumed he’d fallen asleep, but somehow, even in the overwhelming darkness, I could feel his intense eyes burning into me.
He broke the silence with another soft murmur. “Your mum is a model? That explains a lot.”
“Explains what?”
“I could see you on a catwalk.”
It sounded like a compliment, but he said it so matter-of-factly I wasn’t sure he’d meant it as one. My laugh was self-effacing, but warmth swirled in my stomach.
“I’m five foot. It’s not ideal for a catwalk.”
“You could do some other kind of modeling.”
“I could probably get away with foot modeling.”
“That’s an idea. As long as you’re not hiding some hairy toes down there.”
Humor tinged his normal gruff voice. Was he smiling? If only it wasn’t dark. He must have looked dazzling with a smile.
I laughed. “My feet are divine. Ten out of ten. My best feature.”
Lies. My feet were bashed up from years of being stuffed into football boots. But he didn’t need to know that.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Look. I have evidence.” Maybe it was the champagne I’d sipped at the wedding, or maybe the tiredness from a day of travel, but some reckless impulse possessed me and I shifted a foot across the bed to touch his. “See. No hair. Smooth and normal.”
His cool toes grazed the top of my foot, and a spark of heat went through me.
I heard him swallow. “Got you. Confirmed non-hairy.”
I pulled my foot away, but the skin sizzled from that slight brush as though he’d branded me. Silence smothered us again, andmy heart pounded. He inched closer. Only a bit, but enough to set my skin tingling.
We needed to move the conversation away from body parts or interludes that involved rubbing body parts against each other. The silence grew loud, as though trying to permeate the strange bubble of intimacy that had formed around us after my weird attempt at footsie.
He cleared his throat. “I like to train alone, too.”
“You do?”
“I spent a lot of time on my own when I was younger. My mum was a single parent. Money was tight. She worked a lot.”
I wouldn’t ask about his dad. There were rumors floating around. I didn’t know if any of them were true, and I knew better than to pay attention to gossip, given the things people said about my dad.
