Chapter Eight

Karrie

“This wouldn’t happen if you wore normal clothes.” The words play over and over in my head.

I look sideways at him. “Jerk,” I whisper when I see him leaning his head back, his eyes closed. What the hell did he mean by that anyway, I ask myself, checking my very stylish outfit.

The plane jerks just a touch, giving me the chance to knock his elbow, waking him. “What time is it?” he asks, his voice soft, making me forget why I was mad at him in the first place.

“We should be landing in fifteen minutes. Are you tired?” I ask him while he blinks his eyes a bit to focus.

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” he says quietly, taking in everyone else, who is either listening to music or with their eyes closed. Some are reading, some are playing cards, others are on their phone, but no one is really talking.

“Why?” I ask, worried he might be getting sick.

“I guess I was just nervous about today. Almost like it’s the first day back at school after summer break.” He smiles and shrugs. “It's stupid.”

I turn, reaching over and touching the same elbow I almost tried to dislocate. “It's not stupid. I get it. I still remember the day before I started high school I set out my clothes and dreamed all night that I would miss my alarm.”

“Yeah, Allison is like that.” He sits up straighter. “She also brings a change of clothes to school. Well, she did till Cooper decided that he was going to surprise her with lunch. Let’s just say she had a wardrobe check for a month. She was pissed.” He laughs softly, thinking about the memory. The ache in my heart was faint for not having that big family dynamic. Don’t get me wrong, my dad was always there for everything, I just had no one to share it with.

“Your sister sounds like my kind of person.” I smile at him while the landing wheels make sounds, letting us know it’s time for landing.

Once the plane lands, he stands up and his hand goes out to me. I grab it so I can get up, but I shouldn’t have. The simple touch has given me goose bumps all over my arms, making me shiver. It’s almost electric. I’m not sure he feels it, but one look up at him and I see his eyes fixed on our hands that are still connected. The door of the plane opens, making him drop my hand. Reaching up, he grabs his carry-on luggage and mine, carrying it off the plane for me.

They roll the steps straight to the plane, letting us get off on the tarmac. Again, a greyhound bus is waiting for us. I hold on to the railing, walking down behind Matthew. This time he is the one on the bus first. I was planning on sitting in another seat, but once I climb the bus he’s there, standing in the aisle, not moving.

“Excuse me,” I say, trying to get around him.

“Sit down, Karrie.” Three words. Three words that make me grit my teeth together. I make my way to the window, sitting and crossing my legs. He sits next to me, his feet crossed at the ankle, his hands crossed in the middle of his legs. “See how easy that was?”

I roll my eyes at him and glance out the window, not making eye contact with anyone. By the time the bus is loaded and we are on the way to the hotel, fatigue is starting to kick in. I close my eyes, listening to the little chatter that’s now going on around me.

I don’t know how long I’m asleep till I hear Matthew whisper in my ear, “Babe, we’re here.”

I open my eyes and see that my head has fallen on Matthew’s arm. I sit up right away, looking around, making sure no one saw that.

He gets up again and reaches for my hand, but I stand up without taking it. Walking off the bus again, I see him holding my bag, so I reach out for it, but he just shoots me a look of ‘don’t even try it.’ So I walk ahead of him into the hotel.

The hotel coordinator is there waiting for us. The guys each line up, say their name, and get their key cards. I get to the desk and say my name.

“Here is your card. Just so you know, the room is adjoining to a Matthew Grant.”

I nod, taking it and walking to the elevator that has already taken some of the guys up.

There are about six of us who fill the next elevator. The guys look beat. We are all on the same floor. Slowly they each walk into their rooms saying goodnight with a see you tomorrow. Matthew stops at his door while I continue to mine, opening it and letting myself in.

It’s a standard king-sized bedroom. The shades are still open, the light from the moon coming in. I approach the window, which overlooks the highway. It’s almost two a.m., so few cars are on the road. I kick off my shoes and shrug my jacket off. I start pulling the shirt from the waist of my skirt when I hear a soft knock at the closed door that separates my room from Matthew’s.

Walking to it, I open it up, expecting him to spit some nonsense at me, but what I see stops me from saying anything.

His jacket is off, the tie gone, two buttons at the collar open, showing his smooth chest. He’s leaning against the doorframe.

“What?” I ask, trying not to take him in fully.

“Tonight was one of the best nights of my life.” He starts talking while I’m still standing here holding the door handle in one hand. “After the fuck up, that is. I beat myself up. Cursed myself. I smashed my stick so hard I’m surprised it didn't break.”

I look into his eyes, a light from his room making me see that his eyes are lighter than before.

“Then I had that breakaway and saw the puck hit the back of the net. I can’t explain exactly what was going through my mind. It was such a big moment. It felt like maybe I deserved this second chance.”

“Matthew,” I whisper, going in closer to him, “you deserve this and so much more.” The hand not holding the handle reaches out to touch his chest. It is a normal action, but to him it is something more. He looks down at my hand on him, making me do the same.

“I celebrated with my team, but in my head I was thinking of two people. One, I was thinking about my family, hoping like fuck I was making them proud.” His hand goes on top of mine on his chest, his huge hand covering mine. His fingers lace with mine. “The second was you.”

My breath intakes and I stop breathing, or at least that’s what it feels like. My heart is beating, beating so loud I’m sure he can hear it. Hell, I’m sure that everyone can hear it through the walls.

“Skating back to the bench, I looked up and saw you cheering, cheering not just for the team, but deep down hoping that it was cheering for me.” He comes closer to me, my chin dipping closer to my chest.

Our chests almost touch, but with my heels off I’m almost in the middle of his chest. Our hands now both at our sides, one of mine still on the doorknob. “Tell me, baby, tell me you were cheering for me.”

My throat is dry, so dry it’s like I’m in a desert walking all day long, running. Till his finger goes under my chin, lifting my face so I can look at him. “Tell me, did I make you proud?” His voice is almost silent.

I don’t say anything. I just nod. My feet go up on my tippy toes so I can touch his face, my hand going to his cheek. The stubble pinches my hand. “I was cheering for you.” My thumb rubs up his cheek and then slowly over his lips, my body moving without thinking. My body moving on need. My need to touch him, my need to tell him, “I was so proud of you.” It’s the last thing I say to him before he bends down and takes my lips against his.

Softly at first, so soft I don’t know if I’m dreaming this or it’s really happening, till his hands go to the back of my neck, into my hair, pulling my head back, his eyes meeting mine, then he kisses me and this time there’s no wondering if he is or isn’t. Because he’s consuming me, his mouth over mine, his tongue licking my lips, making my tongue come out and meet his.

The second his tongue touches mine his hand fists my hair tighter, the groan coming out from me, vibrating from, Or in, my body. One hand goes around my waist, picking me up while my hands wrap around his neck, our lips never separating. Our tongues play a game of tug of war. Our heads move from side to side to get deeper into each other. Our chests heave, almost like we just crossed the finish line at a marathon.

“Fuck.” I hear him hiss out when we finally let each other go.

I go back in to kiss his lips softly, just wanting one more touch. One more kiss.

“We,” I say, sliding down his body, “um, let’s just say it was a lack of judgment.” I walk back into my room, ready to close the door, but he’s now in my room. “I’m really tired.”

“Lack of judgment?” He shakes his head. “That kiss just knocked me on my ass.” He runs his hands through his hair, making him even sexier, making me even more irritated that he can look so good.

“Matthew,” I say right before his hand cups my hip, squeezing.

“Go change for bed before I pick you up, throw you on that bed, and show you exactly what a lack of judgment will get you. I’ll be buried so deep in you, you’ll wonder how we’ll ever be apart again.”

Yup, panties gone. Yup, I’ve lost my mind, and yup, I’m really hoping he has a lack of judgment right about now.

I turn to walk away, but his hand holds me in place, his head bending to kiss me on my lips, my lips accepting his. My lips tingle when he finally leaves. I grab my bag, going into the bathroom, collapsing on the back of the door. Closing my eyes, I still feel his hands on me. Getting up and regarding myself in the mirror, I see that my lips are plumper. I rub my fingers over them, still feeling his kiss. I wash my face, taking my makeup off, and applying my night cream.

After putting on my PJs, I close the light before I open the door. The room is pitched in darkness at this point, so I’m sure he’s gone to bed. Walking toward my bed, I see something under the covers—I see him under my covers.

“Matthew,” I whisper, putting my knee on the bed, but he doesn’t hear me. He’s long gone. His soft snore fills the room. His body finally gets the rest he needs. I get into bed with him. It’s a big bed, right? Wrong. The minute I turn on my side, he’s in the back of me. His legs intertwine with mine, his hand resting across my waist.

“Night, babe.”

I don’t answer him because the soft snoring starts again.