Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“You have the same look you do when my mouth is on yours.”
I scoff. “Like I’d be thinking of kissing you.”
That grin only widens more. “Who said anything about kissing?” I glare, and the naughtiest gleam shines in those blue eyes. “Maybe you weren’t thinking any of that, but you are now.” Asshole. “And, my love, I haven’t stopped thinking of those lips since I first tasted them.”
I’m going to combust.
“Can you answer my question now?” I snap, unable to keep up with this teasing. Our eyes clash, and I think he’s holding his breath. His lips are pressed in a hard line, his jaw taut, and his grip on the coffee cup tightens, his knuckles turning white and veins popping along his wrist. He’s fucking gorgeous. He swallows visibly before letting out the breath he was holding. The tension around us is thick and suffocating, and I hate it. Oh, how I hate it.
Ciaran clears his throat as he continues to hold my gaze. “Which is?”
“I never assumed you’d stall, Ciaran.”
His eyes bore into mine. “I never have.”
“Then why now?”
“Because what if my reasoning for trying to push you away won’t earn your forgiveness? Or your trust?”
I didn’t expect him to say that or to see the anxiety swirling in his sweet eyes. His actions only confirm that the pull between us is felt on both sides. He cares what I think. He wants my forgiveness, which leaves me having to resist dissolving into a puddle of goo for him. I need his respect; I need his truth.
I need him.
But I also need to reassure him. I hold his gaze. “I’m here, Ciaran. If I didn’t want whatever this could be, I wouldn’t be here.”
“But I hurt you.”
“You did,” I admit. “And I want to know why.”
He nods and then exhales heavily. “I mean, it’s the same old tale that guys go through. Some bounce back, and some just shut down. I shut down.”
I don’t comment. I don’t even react to his statement. I just allow him to take his time.
It takes a moment as he stares at his coffee, drawing in a deep breath. His jaw is so tight, I worry he’ll crack his teeth, but finally, he goes on. “Her name is Mikayla, and we met in high school, dated all the way through. She was a year younger than me, so when I graduated…oh, um, I don’t think I told you that I’m a professional hockey player.”
I shake my head. I already knew this. “We didn’t really have time to discuss careers.”
He smiles sheepishly at me. “We didn’t, not that I had an issue with that.”
Despite my better judgment, I agree, “Nor did I.”
He smiles, and my chest aches at how gorgeous he is. How the dimples in his cheeks peek out, how straight and white his teeth are, and how stunningly his eyes shine. “Well, I am.”
I nod. “That’s really impressive. Hockey isn’t easy.”
“It’s not,” he confirms. “I drafted right out of high school to the Sharks. Mikayla still had a year of school, so she didn’t come with me, but we were still together the whole time. I never stepped out, never wanted to. I loved her. But I found out later that she had been stepping out on me a lot.”
I bite into my lip to keep the venom I want to spew inside. I don’t know this girl, but I can’t help but hate her for hurting him. I’m not a fan of cheating. I don’t like reading books about it, and I don’t like seeing it in shows. It’s just not my jam. I know it can happen, and sometimes it’s not preventable, but for me, it would be. I could never hurt someone like that, and I know that Ciaran is hurt.
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he goes on. “I came home the summer she graduated with the intention of marrying her. Had the ring, the whole nine yards. I had planned on asking on the Fourth of July since it was her favorite holiday.” He pauses, shaking his head.
I can tell he’s struggling, and I can’t help myself. I reach out, taking his hand in mine. His gaze follows my hand as I thread our fingers together and rub my thumb along his. He looks back up, and I urge him to continue with my eyes. I know how this is about to end, but I still need to hear it. I need him to tell me.
“The day before the Fourth, I picked her up to go tubing, and she was crying. I asked what was wrong, and she told me she was pregnant. We hadn’t planned on having kids yet, but she knew I wanted them. I grew up mostly alone with no dad, so I wanted a kid I could love like my mom loved me.”