Brynne

I wake up slowly, stretching under the soft Egyptian cotton. It took me ages to fall asleep last night. Knowing Kane was just down the hall had my body on edge. And once I finally fell asleep, my dreams were filled with him. His eyes, his touch, his mouth. Even now, I can still feel the phantom pressure in my core. The delicious ache that makes me want things I have no right wanting.

The sun creeps through the thick blinds, and I frown, squinting. I panic when I grab my phone and see what time it is. It’s already eight. Noah never sleeps in this late. Ever.

Panic twists in my gut as I jump out of bed and race to his room.

He’s not there.

More panic.

“Kane?” My voice is shrill, edged with alarm.

“In here,” he answers from the living room.

Kane is spread out on the couch, head tilted forward, eyes closed, with Noah fast asleep on his bare chest.

My stomach does one of those flip-flop things that tells me I’m in way deeper than I should be. But I can’t help the way my gaze roams down his body. Sculpted abs, narrow hips, even his damn feet are sexy.

When I look back at his face, I find a pair of intense blue eyes staring back at me, and a grin tugging at his lips.

Busted.

“Enjoying the view?” He cocks a brow at me.

“I’ve seen better,” I lie, turning around so he doesn’t see the red that I’m pretty sure creeps into my cheeks. I try to keep my tone stoic, but it comes out sounding bitchy when I say, “You should put him in his crib. I don’t want him getting used to being held while he sleeps.”

I hear him grunt behind me as I walk into the kitchen and pull out the coffee grinds.

Walls. I have so many of them, especially where Kane is concerned. Instead of being grateful that he let me sleep in, I ended up criticizing what was really a sweet moment.

But the second I let those walls down, I know I’m in even bigger trouble than I’m already in.

No. It has to be this way. At least until I know for sure that this is real. That he’s not going to change his mind, or screw it up in the typical Kane Madden fashion.

A few minutes later, Kane comes up behind me, his arm brushing against mine as he reaches past, pulling two mugs from the cupboard.

He doesn’t say anything, just leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching me as I finish pouring water into the coffee maker. I turn around, crossing my own arms.

“You never were a morning person.” He chuckles, reminding me of all the nights he used to spend at my house. All the mornings he’d tease me with his overly bright smile.

“There’s something wrong with people who can roll out of bed with a smile on their face.”

“Trust me, sweetheart. If you were in my bed, you’d be waking up every morning with a smile on your face.”

I roll my eyes, but there goes my stomach again with the stupid butterflies.

“Don’t you have a practice or somewhere to be?”

“Coach gave us the day off.”

I wince at the mention of my father.

“Speaking of Coach-”

“No.”

“So, you’re never planning on telling him? He’s going to find out.”

I shrug, turning to fill the mugs with coffee. “Haven’t spoken to him since the funeral. Even before that, we barely talked. Me having a kid doesn’t change that.”

Kane takes the mug from my hand, frowning, before taking a sip. “I’m not hiding this from him. Not hiding my son from the world like he’s something to be ashamed of.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“No? You sure about that?” He puts his cup down, the muscles in his arms and chest tense.

I have to look away, the familiar ache warming my core.

“I’m not ashamed of Noah.”

“No. But you’re ashamed of who his father is.”

I glance back at him, and swallow hard when I see the hurt reflected in his hard gaze. I don’t deny it, even though I can see he wants me to, even though I know I should. But he’s right, in a way. I don’t want people to know what happened between us.

I don’t want them to know how weak I am when he touches me. Or how my knees tremble when he says my name. And I don’t want them to know that, despite how much I’ve tried to hate the man, my heart has only ever belonged to him.

“Just give me a few weeks. Let’s just deal with this for now. See if it’s even going to work out before we let the world in on our secret.”

His nostrils flare as he exhales, but he gives a curt nod. “Fine. For now, we’ll do it your way. Two weeks. Then, we tell your father.”

“Three.”

“Two. And I’ll be the one to tell him. Unless you want to be there.”

“Fine. And no, I really don’t.”

“You’re so much like him it’s scary. No wonder the two of you butt heads.”

“I am nothing like my father.”

He chuckles, pushing off the counter and taking a step towards me, not touching, but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body, see every detailed muscle in his arms. The way his abs bunch tighter when my gaze drops. The soft brown hairs that sprinkle across his chest, down his stomach, growing darker as they near the waist of his jogging pants.

I swallow hard.

“So damn stubborn,” he says, fingers clenching and unclenching like it’s taking all his willpower not to touch me.

I know, because I feel the same.

“You say it like it’s a weakness.” I jut my chin out defiantly. I hate that he thinks he knows me.

“It is when it stops you from taking what you want.”

“And what do you think I want, Madden? An arrogant, hotheaded hockey player that can’t keep his cock in his pants? Just because I don’t want to become one of your little playthings, doesn’t make me stubborn. It makes me smart.”

Instead of arguing back, he just gives me one of his who-do-you-think-you’re-lying-to smiles and shakes his head.

“If all I wanted from you was a quick fuck, you’d already be in my bed. I want more. I want everything. Every sexy, willful, damaged piece of you. I know that scares the shit out of you. It scares me, too. But it’s happening, Brynne.”

My God, the man makes my head spin.

Where are those damn walls when I need them?

“Just remember this a trial. One strike and you’re out.”

“Pretty sure it’s three strikes.”

“You’ve already used up your other two.”

“I didn’t even know I was up to bat.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I’m serious, Kane.”

“So am I.” His head dips lower.

“This isn’t a game.”

“Funny, for a second I thought we were playing baseball.”

“God, you’re infuriating.” I smack his chest, but he catches my wrist, holding my palm against his warm, hard flesh.

“Rule number one. No touching.” He tsk tsks, shaking his head as his callused thumb runs across my wrist and palm, sending a blast of fire up my arm and straight into my belly. He quirks an eyebrow and a grin pulls at the corner of his lips. “One day, and you’re already breaking your own rules. Really, Jacobs, I’m kind of disappointed. I was hoping for a little more of a challenge.”

He’s teasing me. I know it.

I should pull my hand away, but it’s like it’s crazy-glued to his damn chest.

Come on, brain, where’s my snarky retort? But I can’t think of one. All I can think about is the way his heart thumps erratically under my palm. The way his blue eyes practically devour me. Tempting. Teasing. Promising.

My tongue darts out over my bottom lip when his gaze lands on my mouth, and I know I’m seconds away from kissing him if I don’t do something.

“Fine. You win.”

He quirks a dark brow.

“You want to do this, let’s do it.”

“Do what?” His grip tightens around my wrist slightly.

“This. Sex.” I place my other hand on his shoulder, dragging my fingernails down his chest, across his abs, then hooking my finger in the waist of his pants.

It’s a dangerous game I’m playing. And I don’t know what response I’m hoping for.

He groans, deep and guttural.

“Brynne-” My name is a mix between a question and a plea.

“What? This is what you want, right? So, let’s do it. Screw the consequences.”

He frowns and releases me, taking a step back.

So predictable.

“What?” I bat my eyelashes up at him, stepping closer. “You don’t want me if it’s not a challenge?”

Raking his fingers through his already disheveled hair, he watches me warily. “I know what you’re doing.”

I place my hands on his stomach and lean into him, whispering huskily, “I’m giving you what you want. This is what you want?”

Push.

Push.

Push.

It’s what I’m good at. Pushing buttons. Pulling away. Hiding from anything resembling real emotions.

“You have no idea what I want.” His voice is hoarse, clipped.

I glance down at the prominent erection he’s sporting and raise my eyebrows. “Clearly, I do.”

He takes my hands, threading his fingers between mine.

The gesture is too intimate. “This isn’t about sex.”

“Of course not.” I dig deep inside me and pull out the last remnants of hatred I have towards him, and bite out, “You get a live-in fuckbuddy. I get a place to live. And Noah gets a dad who may be stoned when he comes home after partying with the strippers and puck bunnies that may have given his father an STD.” I keep the cold, aloof smile plastered on my face. “Win, win. Right?”

Push.

Push.

Push.

My comment is met with silence. But his eyes say everything, and they call my bullshit.

Yell at me. Fight me. Do anything other than look at me with the pity and understanding I see in your eyes.

He doesn’t. Instead, his hands come up to my face, cupping my jaw gently, despite the fierce look he gives me.

“You said no games. So, no fucking games, Brynne. You’re hurt. I get it. And you’re scared. Me, too. But this is happening. It already happened. You had my kid. You moved in with me. You’re staying with me. So, drop the fucking act like you hate my guts.”

“I-”

His eyes narrow, stopping my words. “You don’t trust me. But you will.”

And when I do, you’ll break my heart.

“I won’t,” he says as if reading my thoughts. “I won’t hurt you. If I do, I give you full permission to cut both my balls off and feed it to the dog.”

I can’t help but smile at the image. “FYI, you don’t have a dog.”

He releases me and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that.”

“Uh-uh. No way.”

“A boy needs a dog.”

“Which boy? You or Noah? ‘Cause I know who’ll end up taking care of it - me.”

He chuckles.

“The rest of your stuff is arriving at noon today,” he says, changing the subject and walking to the fridge.

“What stuff?”

“Just some art supplies I ordered.” He grabs an apple and tosses it in the air, before taking a bite, then starting to walk away.

“You can’t just buy me things.”

“That wasn’t one of your rules.” He gives me a cocky smile.

“It is now.”

He shrugs, the muscles in his back flexing and bunching with the movement.

“Oh, and Kane…”

“Yeah?” He glances over his shoulder.

“One more rule.”

He frowns. “What’s that?”

“Put a shirt on.”

He chuckles and turns. “No chance in hell, sweetheart.”