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She swallows, then shakes her head. "It’s nothing."
I frown. The hurt in her eyes, the downward curve of her lips, the dejection that’s written into every dip of her features, twists my heart. I walk to her, notch a finger under her chin so she has no choice but to look up at me, and ask, "What is it?"
"Told you, it’s nothing." She tries to pull away, but I place a hand on her shoulder.
"You can tell me, Goldie."
"Now,it’s Goldie?" She scoffs. "Why not call me Mac?"
"That’s for them. Goldie is the name only I can use."
"And why would you want to do that?"
"Because you’re my fiancée, remember?"
"Fake fiancée."
"Still my fiancée."
"But fake."
"Still my—"
She throws up her hands. "I can’t win any argument with you, can I?"
I allow my lips to quirk and shrug. "You’re so cute when you’re angry, you know that?"
She scowls. "I’ll show you how cute I can be."
She bends her knee and raises it, but I step aside. The next moment, I’ve grabbed her arm and twisted her around so her back is to my chest. I wrap my arms about her. "There, much better."
"Let me go," she snarls.
"Only if you tell me what’s wrong."
She continues to struggle for a few seconds. When she realizes I’m not letting her go, she sags against me. I hold her close, and inch by inch, her muscles relax. We stay there, unmoving, and I tuck her head under my chin. There’s a comfort in this, despite the fact that her butt is nestled against my crotch, and the blood is draining to my groin, and I can feel every soft dip and curve of her tight little body against mine. Despite the fact that I have a raging hard on, there’s still an ease in holding her like this. A contentment, a sense that all is right with the world. A feeling of peace I’ve never felt before. A sensation of having found my place, finally.
It’s only when a growl rumbles up my chest that I realize how much I’ve allowed myself to draw comfort from this closeness. She must realize it, too, for she stiffens. I should release her now. I should walk away and stop probing about why she seemed so sad, but I can’t. I’d do the same for any other team-mate, minus holding any of them so intimately in my arms, of course. I resist the urge to speak, and instead, simply hold her. It’s the right decision, for she melts even further into me.
"I always thought I wasn’t worth much. I didn’t think I’d ever find anyone who could understand me. And then I thought I had." She swallows.
"You mean Dennis Dickface?"
She snorts out a laugh. "Yeah. I know you saw us arguing, but during the time we were together, we never did. We seemed to make space for each other, and he seemed like the perfect boyfriend—"
"Until he wasn’t?"
She nods.
"What happened?"
A shudder grips her, and I tighten my hold around her. It’s not in me to offer comfort so openly. Hell, if anyone had told me I’d be holding a woman for anything other than the act of safe sex… Always safe, never without a condom, and only for as long as needed to get myself off. I always ensured they orgasmed, too, before I left their bed and never saw them again. Anyway, if anyone had told me I'd be doing this, I’d have called them a liar. Yet, here I am, comforting her and insisting she tell me what’s bothering her. Last I checked, I had my balls intact, though, so there’s that. It must be this enforced proximity, thanks to us being roomies, which is making me want to make her feel better.
"You don’t have to tell me—" I begin when she bursts out, "I walked in on him with another woman in our bed."
17
Gio
