Page 31 of King of Hearts

“This okay?” Her narrow chin appeared over her shoulder, her eyes questioning.

There was enough space to fit an entire extra person between us, so I gently gripped her hips and moved her until her back was flush with my chest…and her ass was nestled up against my dick.

“This is better.” I grabbed the brush she’d brought and watched as she relaxed into me when I began brushing through her wet strands. The movie she’d selected was some historical show about a time traveler who had two husbands in two different times. Seemed odd to me, but Taylor loved watching it whenever she had the television to herself.

I’d finished brushing her hair entirely and was ready to start gathering her hair into a braid when she carefully asked, “Where did you learn to braid?”

I smiled at the memory. “When I was little, my biological dad was pretty rough with women, and since I had been spending a lot of time around him, my mom worried that I’d turn out like that—mean, brash, violent. So, she had me braid my little sister’s hair every night. She was younger than me by about five years, but it worked. I learned to be patient and calm, especially when she would say I pulled too tight or tried to make the task difficult for me.”

I felt Taylor’s shoulders shake in laughter.

“What?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Nothing. I just can’t picture you braiding hair…especially on a little girl.”

“I’m braiding yours, aren’t I?” I tied off the end of her hair and suddenly had no place for my hands except on my thighs. I could feel the heat from her own legs burning next to mine.

“True.”

It was quiet for a while, the show played on the laptop, and then Taylor tried to move away.

“Where are you going?” I gently placed my hand on the top of her thigh.

“You’re finished with my hair, so I can move if you want.”

“Is that what you want?” I said low and close to her ear.

Fuck, what was I doing? This wasn’t a good idea, and yet…her body was so warm, and she smelled so fucking good, and I couldn’t quite remember why I hated her to begin with.

She let out a breath that seemed to be trapped in her lungs for too long then gave the slightest shake of her head.

“Lean back,” I whispered, reclining into the pillows. She followed suit, bringing her elbows back to my hips until she was adjusted to our new position. From this vantage point, I could see the swell of her breasts move up and down as she took each breath.

“Your father was a violent man?” she asked carefully.

I watched the show playing out, trying to weigh how much I wanted to tell her, and how much I wanted to keep quiet. “Yeah…not so great. He died about five years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be…I’m not.”

She shifted again, her breathing becoming shallower. “What happened with hockey? You’re an amazing player…I don’t understand why they’d drop you.”

I blinked, realizing my initial response had been to just open up to her, and while I didn’t want Mal to know anything about this, something told me Taylor wouldn’t tell her.

“I don’t talk about this part of my life…but my uncle came to one of my practices…” I hesitated. “He’s a part of a gang…it’s pretty dangerous, and the team didn’t want to have any connection to it.”

“That’s really shitty. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Taylor moved her back like she was uncomfortable. She didn’t seem scared that my uncle might be tied to me, or that I’d used the term gang…which was telling in itself. If she’d grown up alongside me or on the streets, I might have accepted her brushing it off, but Taylor had been raised with a silver spoon in her perfect mouth. Me saying my uncle was in a gang should have shaken her a bit, or at least made her tense up. I already knew how Mallory would respond, which was why I’d never tell her.

“It’s fine…just means I’ll likely have to relocate to sign on with a different team.” I decided to move on, unsure how to even broach the subject of her lack of reaction. Maybe she didn’t believe me.

“I hope you can. I couldn’t imagine you giving up that dream,” she said softly, and because I was so fucked in the head, I actually took offense to her encouraging me to move. That she hoped I would…fucking hell. I wanted her to turn in my arms and tell me not to go, then wrap her pink lips around my cock and let me show her how badly I wanted to stay.

I closed my eyes, releasing a shuddering breath…this was merely a physical reaction, just a response to her tits being so close. The tank she wore was practically translucent, and it was so low cut that it barely concealed her fullness.

There was that, and the fact that she kept squirming, brushing against my dick.

My hands went to her stomach, bracing her just above the line of her shorts. It was instinctual…I just needed to touch her. She froze for a few seconds, until she let out a tiny gasp.

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