“You like watching me sleep, Jacobs?” His deep voice makes me jump, and heat creeps into my cheeks.
Exposed.
“Just trying to figure out how someone, even your size, can snore that loudly.”
He drops his arm, a grin tugging at his lips, as his sleepy gaze rests on me. “I don’t snore.”
No. He doesn’t. But I’m not going to admit it.
“Like a bear,” I say, shifting away from him.
But before I have a chance to get away, he tackles me. His weight presses my back into the mattress as his thick thigh spreads mine. His erection digs into my leg and I can’t help but let out a small whimper of arousal.
He doesn’t play fair. But then, he never has. On or off the ice, he’s ruthless.
“Take it back,” he growls into my ear.
“You snore, Madden,” I try to keep my tone cool, collected, but even I can hear the desire that burns under the surface of the words, begging him to do something about it.
“No.” He nips at my ear. “I.” His scruff brushes against my jaw. “Don’t.”
I open my mouth to argue, but his kiss stops me, stealing any fight I have left.
Lost.
That’s how I feel when he touches me.
Consumed.
Fully and completely.
No thoughts occupy my brain, because my senses have taken over. Basic primal urges that leave no space for rational thought.
His scent is intoxicating. All male and musky. A hint of cologne still lingering on his skin.
And the taste of him. God, the taste of him is almost too much. I lick his bottom lip, then tug it between my teeth. He groans and I shudder. His own tongue delves into my mouth, deepening our kiss, making my body ache.
His callused fingers roam across my skin, across my breasts, stomach, hips, and thighs. He pushes my legs wider with his knee, and his hand moves between us, slipping beneath the thin material of my panties.
I’m wet. Even before his thumb strokes my clit, before he slips a finger inside of me, my body is aching and ready for him.
“God, Brynne. Do you have any idea how much I want you?”
I can feel the evidence of it pressed into my thigh. The scary thing is, I want him just as bad.
A small wail echoes down the hall, saving me from making another terrible choice.
“Shit,” Kane breathes against my lips, his hand still hot and heavy against my sex, his forehead resting against mine. “I’ll get him.”
“No.” I squirm beneath him, needing to get free, needing the space to regain my composure. “I will.”
Kane falls backwards and lets out another low curse, his gaze trained on me as I gather my t-shirt and pull it over my head.
“You okay?” He grinds out, his concerned tone mirrored in his gaze.
“Yeah,” I lie, ignoring his grunt of disbelief as I practically run from the room.
Gathering Noah in my arms, I let out the breath I’d been holding in.
I’m far from okay.
Because I’m falling in love with him.
Chapter 19
Kane
My balls ache as I roll out of bed, almost as much as my fucking chest. Damn heart is beating too wildly, hoping and wanting things I know she’s not ready to give me.
I dress, then go to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Medium blend with a dash of cinnamon, just like she likes it. Then I pull out the formula and start making Noah’s bottle.
My phone vibrates on the counter, and I hesitate before checking it. I have no doubt I’ll be called into Coach’s office before practice today.
But none of the messages that pop up on the screen are from him. There’s one from Sebastian asking if I’m coming over tonight to watch the UFC, and the rest are from Blake, each one more desperate than the last.
Call me.
I’m fucking serious, Kane. Call me now.
Get your head out of your ass and return my call, dickhead.
Last chance, or I’m bringing this shit to your place.
The last message was fifteen minutes ago, which means if his threat is real, he’ll be here-
I don’t have time to finish the thought before there’s a loud bang on the door, followed by more banging.
“Jesus, Starowics, relax.” When I open the door, I wince. The man looks like shit and there’s something in his eyes that makes my stomach roll in fear. “What the hell happened?”
“You need to come with me. Now.”
“Want to tell me why?”
“Kiley,” he mutters.
“What about her?”
“She’s…” He rakes his fingers over his face. “She’s not good.”
“Where is she?”
“My place. But-” He flinches and looks away. “I wanted to take her to the hospital, but she wouldn’t let me. I don’t want to leave her alone for too long, ‘cause I know she’ll try and run again.”
Fuck.
“I can’t deal with this shit right now. If Brynne finds about this-”
“Kane?” Brynne is standing in the hall, holding Noah.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“What’s going on?” The familiar look of suspicion creeps back into her eyes.
“Nothing.” I walk towards her, but she takes a step back.
I drag my hand through my hair and sigh.
“We need to go,” Blake says behind me, desperately.
Grabbing my keys and slipping on a pair of shoes, I tell her, “I’ll be back later. And I’ll tell you everything. Okay?”
She doesn’t look convinced. In fact, all the old mistrust and wariness that I’ve worked so hard to get rid of is back and brimming with an intensity that makes my gut churn.
“This better be fucking important,” I growl at Blake as I follow him toward the elevators.
He looks ready to hit me when he turns. “I don’t know, asshole. Depends how much value you put on your sister’s life. So far, it doesn’t seem like much.”
I hold my tongue as we step onto the elevator and take the five floors down to his apartment, and I steel myself for whatever it is that awaits me on the other side of the door. Nothing could have prepared me for what I find.
Chapter 20
Brynne
He’s hiding something.
Like an old friend that was never really gone, wariness creeps into the back of my mind.
Every scenario that goes through my head only makes it worse.
I didn’t hear much of Kane and Blake’s conversation, but the look on both their faces said, whatever they were hiding, was bad.
Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. It’s what I do. What I’ve always done. Especially with Kane. But I can’t help but play his words over and over again in my head. If Brynne finds out about this.
Whatever is going on, he doesn’t want me to know.
Noah whimpers in my arms, and I realize that I’ve been standing, staring at the closed door for over a minute. He’s hungry and I’m being an idiot. Kane said he’d tell me everything when he got back, and since I’ve moved in with him, he’s given me no reason not to trust him.
I try to ignore the cool pinpricks of premonition that tickle the back of my neck as I warm up the bottle Kane had already started making.
But as the minutes and hours pass, the initial knot in the center of my throat turns into a golf ball sized lump.
After I lay Noah down for his afternoon nap, I go to the room where Kane set up all my art supplies. Multiple finished and unfinished canvases lay scattered around.
Trust him, my heart cries out.
He’s going to destroy you, my head warns.
There’s a constant battle between the two.
I pull out a blank canvas and prepare my paints, then sit down to sketch the images that pop into my head. And I paint, using all my pent-up emotions to push through the self-doubt and insecurities.
I get lost in the work, only breaking when Noah wakes up from his nap.
But still, Kane isn’t back. And when I check my phone, there’s no message from him.
He has a practice today, which means he’ll be going to the arena soon, if he’s not already there.
My phone buzzes, with Felix’s name popping up on the screen.
He’s called twice in the past couple of days, and I haven’t answered, which makes me a really shitty friend, I know.
“Hello?”
“I was starting to wonder if you were ignoring me.” There’s an edge of hurt to his tone, despite his attempt at humor.
“Just really busy. Trying to finish a piece for the exhibit. I can’t believe how quickly-’
“About that…”
The lump in my throat drops to my stomach.
“You were supposed to have your pieces delivered to the studio two days ago. That’s why I’ve been calling.”
“Shit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’ve never been good with deadlines, but I could have sworn I had another week. “I can have a courier pick them up this afternoon-”
“They cancelled your spot, Brynne.”
“What? But I can get them-”
“It’s too late. I asked Lynne to hold off, but she already gave it away.”
I sit down on my stool. “Can we re-book? There’s another one in a few months, right?”
“I can talk to her, but…”
“But what? You know how much I wanted this. I’ll do anything-”
“Why don’t you come over for dinner next week? Bring Noah. And we can talk about it.”
An uneasy feeling settles in my gut.
“Nothing has changed, Felix.”
“So, now that you’re living with Mr. Hotshot Hockey Player, you can’t have dinner with a friend? Unless…” He snorts on the other end. “Unless you’re already sleeping with him.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Right,” he says sarcastically.
“Felix, I-”
“Listen. I didn’t want to be the one to have to tell you this, but your boyfriend isn’t as golden as everyone seems to think he is.”
“You don’t know him.”
“God, you are fucking him, aren’t you?”
“That’s none of your business even if I were.”
“I thought you were smarter than this. But then, you did get yourself knocked up with the asshole’s kid.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“Goodbye, Felix.”
“Wait.” His voice is desperate.
“What?”
“Just take a look at the article I’m sending you.”
“Fine,” I breath out in frustration, hating what our friendship has come to.
“And Brynne. If you need me, I’m here for you.”
I hang up.
A couple seconds later my phone pings with a text message. I stare at the link, not sure if I want to open it.
With a deep breath, I tap my thumb on the link and a page opens. It’s some trashy online gossip magazine.
A quick glance at the article title and I know I’m going to regret opening it.
Kane Madden, Not So Golden.
I know this magazine. Ninety-nine percent of everything it reports is false, or some fabrication of the truth. But as I scroll through the bullshit and get to the incriminating photos, that damn lump returns to my throat.
The pictures are black and white and a little fuzzy, marked with a time and date stamp at the top. A quick glance and I know they were taken from the security camera just outside Kane’s apartment by the parking garage entrance. They’ve been zoomed in, enough that Kane’s features are slightly recognizable.
The first photo is of him getting out of his car. The second, him approaching a woman. She’s tiny, wearing a hoodie that covers half of her face. But the half that is visible holds a look I’m all too familiar with - hollow eyes, sunken cheeks.
But it’s the third picture that sends a cold shiver down my spine. Him handing her money. Not just pocket change like he might give a homeless person, but a wad of cash.
I pace the apartment, hating the way I feel. The paranoia. The anxiety. The fear.
The logical part of my brain, even the part that’s always wanted to see the worst in him, screams that there’s more to the story. That there’s some type of explanation. That he wasn’t doing what the article said he was doing – buying drugs.
This is the shitty part about caring about someone.
Because you either have to trust them, or walk away. There’s no in-between. Unless you want to drown in your own suspicions.
If this thing between Kane and I is going to work, then I have to trust him, or I should do us both a favor and end it now.
Chapter 21
Kane
“We need to take her to the ER,” I growl out, frustration and concern straining every syllable.
The second I’d walked into Blake’s apartment and saw a broken and beaten girl lying on his couch, my stomach had rolled. I still feel sick thinking about what kind of psychopath could hurt someone like that.
“I promised her I wouldn’t.” Blake leans with his back against the kitchen wall, arms crossed over his thick chest.
I place my palms on the kitchen counter, every muscle in my body tense, and let out a slow, even breath, trying to gain some semblance of patience.
“The girl is a mess. She needs-”
“The girl has a name.” Blake’s nostrils flare and he gives me a pointed look. “Maybe if you started calling her by it she’d become a person to you and not just an obligation you don’t want. She’s your sister, Kane.”
I grunt, knowing he’s right. I can’t ignore the mess she’s gotten herself into, not when her life is obviously at risk.
From the other room, I hear Kiley whimper. I catch a quick glance at her.
Fuck.
The girl probably weighs no more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, and her pixie-like face is all shades of blue, greens and browns. Whoever did this to her made sure not to leave an inch of her body unmarked.
“She needs an x-ray to make sure she doesn’t have any broken ribs, and she’s going to need at least a couple of stitches for the cut on her forehead, if not a CT scan to make sure she doesn’t have a head injury.”
“I already called Darryl Scallan. He’s coming over-”
“You called the team’s neurologist? Jesus, Blake, what’s wrong with you?”
“I’m trying to help her. Which is what you should be doing. She’s your family.”
“She’s a junkie. What she needs is-”
He gets in my face, grabbing my shirt and shoving me against the fridge. “Stop calling her that.”
I push him away. “You’re losing it, man. If this is about Sam-”
“It’s not about Sam. That’s your shit. It’s about that girl in there. She needs help.”
“Not arguing with you there.” She needs ninety days in rehab and a total life make-over. But I know from experience that you can’t make someone change. They have to want it. And even then, it’s a long and difficult road.
“Talk to her, Kane. She’s nothing like Sam. There are things you don’t know. I’ve had a guy looking into-”
“I know she gave you some sob story, and kudos to you for caring. But she’s better off in a hospital. Even if she doesn’t have any serious injuries, she has to dry out. I can’t have a junk-” I stop myself from saying the word when I see the fire in his eyes. Rubbing the back of my neck, I shake my head. “I’m just starting to make things work with Brynne. Christ, I’ve got a kid now. I can’t have some girl detoxing around them.”
“She can stay here.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “Here?”
“Until she gets better, and we find the asshole who did this to her.”
I stare at him hard. “You’re going to make her one of your charity cases, aren’t you?”
“She’s not a charity case. She’s
a person. A scared kid with nowhere else to go.”
“If she really wants to get clean, I can call Cloverwood. Sam went there once. It’s a nice facility.”
“She’s terrified, Kane. She won’t go anywhere. I can get her to talk. She needs to be around people who care about her.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “And you care about her?”
He takes a breath. “I care about you. So yeah, I do.”
I hold his gaze for a long moment, then finally sigh. “This is a mistake.”
He shrugs.
“Fine.” I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. But what the hell else am I supposed to do?
Kiley’s an adult now. So even if they admitted her, she could leave at any time. Be back on the streets in a heartbeat.
“Did she tell you what she’s on?”
“I don’t think she’s using. At least, not lately.”
I snort. “If you’re going to do this, then you need to remember one thing. Always assume a junkie is using.”
“She’s not…” He drags his fingers through his hair and clamps his mouth shut.
“Look, I’ve got to get back to Brynne. She’ll be wondering what’s going on. And I need to deal with Coach.”
I’d almost forgotten about him. I rub my palms over my eyes.
“You finally told him?”
“Brynne did, last night.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
Another small, pathetic whimper comes from the other room. Blake pushes off the wall and moves quickly toward the living room. I watch as he touches her forehead with the back of his hand, and my chest tightens when I see the emotion in his eyes.
I want to warn him not to get attached, but I have a sinking feeling in my gut he already is.
Damn it, Blake.
She might be my sister, but the man is my best friend, and I know that she can only bring one thing to his life – trouble.
She whimpers in her sleep. A gleam of sweat covers her forehead, and I wince again when I take in the bruises on her face.
Blake cleaned the dried blood off her forehead and bandaged it, but a fresh dot of red has seeped through. Lucky for her, it doesn’t look like she broke anything. Anything other than her spirit.
Second Shot: A Men With Wood Novel Page 11