Page 58 of Hard to Take

"Want to see you." I search out every inch of her in the darkness. The bright holiday lights outside the window lend a warm glow to her curves.

"You've seen me before." She props herself up on her elbows, her lips parted in a way that makes my dick twitch.

“Yeah, but you’re different today.” Her head tilts with curiosity. I tell my libido to calm down for a hot second so I can explain. “Seeing you here with your family, I get it. The pressure and the expectations you deal with every day. What you’ve been raised around. It’s a lot.”

“Ah, so you can see the stress?” she murmurs with a smile. She’s not offended, another thing I love about her. “I think there’s a serum for that.”

“Nah.” I shake my head slowly. “I’ve never seen you look as beautiful as you do right now.”

She reaches for me, and I let her.

As we come together, I'm aware of the intensity of my feelings for her. It's not just physical. I want to protect her, support her, make her laugh. I want to be the one she turns to when she needs strength.

Jay’s my friend and teammate, but I saw tonight how important their relationship is, too. The last thing I want is to complicate things or come between them.

So I show her with actions what I'm not ready to say with words.

Afterward, as we lay tangled together, I plug my phone in and set her alarm for 5 a.m. It's risky, staying here, but I can't bear the thought of leaving yet.

"Don't even think of moving before I wake up," I murmur against her ear, tightening my arms around her.

17

MILES

She’s in bed next to me when I wake up. Her body is warm, her face tucked into her pillow and her lips parted.

I’ve never wanted to hit the snooze button so much in my life.

“The hell is that?” Brooke mumbles as I switch off the alarm. “Did I leave my door open…”

Her eyes crack open, and my heart cracks with them.

“Morning,” I whisper, aware we have to be quiet.

“Hey.”

Her nose points up with a slight curve, and her full lips are parted. Her thick lashes fan across her cheeks.

I lower my mouth to hers, brushing once and then again because I can’t resist.

“Merry Christmas, Princess.”

“You too.”

Her slow smile lights me up.

That’s when it hits me.

Brooke Ellis is not a hookup. She’s never been a hookup.

Not from the moment as a rookie that I agreed to watch out for her as a favor to her brother.

Not when my fist slammed into another man’s face because of what he did to her.

Not once in the years of teasing jokes and half flirting and buried longing since.

The realization is a living thing in my chest.

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