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Oh my God, get your shit together.
“So, you were sitting in your car outside of the library and thought, I should call the hottest hockey player I know and hope he doesn’t answer? Seems a little odd, Little Dove. Miss me or what?” He smiles and flashes those perfect pearly whites.
Black silk surrounds his head, and I ask him, mostly in shock, “Are you still in bed right now?”
“Yeah. We had a game last night. Today’s a rest day, so here I am”—he moves the camera, scanning over his bed quickly, and I see his shirtless chest and the top of his abs—“resting.”
“Did you win?” I ask him even though I already know the answer from watching some of the game last night, unable to stay away.
He mocks me, “Did we win? Of course we won.”
I squint and smirk. “Are all hockey players cocky assholes, or is it just you?”
“All of us, babe. We’re a special breed.” He bends his head, and his neck cracks like a glow stick.
“I wish my neck would crack like that,” I exclaim. I’ve had a kink in my neck all morning. I tried popping it, but it didn’t work.
He bends the other way, and it cracks even more. “Come visit. I’ll get all of your kinks out.”
A picture of Cam’s hands rubbing my neck flashes into my mind, and my cheeks flush. I hate every second of it, wishing I could force it to go away.
“That’s okay. I can get them out myself,” I say, knowing the double meaning of our conversation.
He stretches, and the most delicious groan leaves his lips. “Ugh, Nikki, you kill me.”
“How so?” I softly ask.
“You don’t back down from my teasing. You match my level, and it’s fucking sexy. Talk about something else,” he says before throwing a pillow over his face.
I try to ignore the flutter in my chest from his words. “Like what?”
His voice is muffled from the pillow. “Anything that doesn’t involve you touching yourself.”
My cheeks burn, and I’m glad he’s not looking at me right now. “Why? You don’t like to think about it?”
My jaw drops as he pans the camera down his body to the sheet that’s tented up where the dips of his hips disappear beneath the black silk.
“Trust me, I want to hear all of the wet details sometime, baby, but right now, I don’t want you to think that’s all I want. So, tell me something sad or something gross—anything.”
I try to come up with something fast, but with my mind still stuck on what he just showed me, I can only come up with, “My ex-boyfriend…he was abusive, um…” My throat tightens as the words I want to say fight to break free. “I could share endless stories about what he did.”
He moves the pillow and meets my gaze in the camera. “Tell me one.”
“We used to have this glass coffee table in our living room. One night, he was upset with me.” I stare at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with Cam at all costs. “He slammed me into it. Glass went everywhere.” I gulp as my eyes water. “It hurt so bad. Every time I moved, the pieces dug deeper. No matter how used to the pain I got, I was reminded of its intensity with every breath. I lay there forever. It felt like hours passed before he helped me up.”
Taking a few shaky breaths, I force my gaze to meet his. Saying that out loud was scary, but also so refreshing.
Cam is seething with anger as he takes in what I confessed. At the center of his rage is sadness for what I went through, but not pity.
“What’s his name?” he aggressively whispers.
I smile. “That is a story from the past, Cam. I want to leave it there.”
The look in his eyes could kill a man. He nods and looks at me so intensely that I can feel it across my skin and in my chest. So clearly, as if he were here next to me.
“I have wondered about what caused those scars since the moment we met. Thank you for telling me. I won’t let another scar mark your skin, Little Dove,” he declares, as if he can make it so.
I let him think that I believe that. The truth is, no one in this world, no matter how great their intent might be, can truly protect you. The only defense against harm you have is yourself.
