Page 32 of Faking It with the Enforcer

I’m achingly hard at the thought of getting inside her again.

With one arm still around my girl, I fire off a quick text to my agent with my free hand.

Might need a trade to Winnipeg.

Maybe she’ll get invited to stay in Toronto and dance here. But if she doesn’t, then I need to find a way to be with her in Winnipeg. I’m not doing a long distance thing with her. It’d kill me. I need to be with her, as much as physically possible. I’m already dreading the short two-game road trip I have to leave for in a few days.

If she moves to Toronto, I could convert one of the bedrooms in this penthouse into a home dance studio for her. We could redecorate, make my place intoourplace. I’d let her do whatever she wanted. If she told me she wanted frilly pink curtains and a giant flower mural on the wall, I’d hand over my credit card and tell her to go nuts. I don’t care, as long as it makes her happy. As long as she’s in my arms and in my bed and in my life. By my side.

My phone starts buzzing, and I answer it without looking, assuming it’s going to be my agent asking why the hell I want to get traded to Winnipeg.

“Hey, Kevin,” I say, my voice rusty with sleep.

“So sorry to disturb you, Mr. Hartley. It’s Winston down at the front desk.”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Oh. Sorry, Winston. What’s up?” I wrack my brain, trying to remember if I have a delivery coming.

“There’s a gentleman here to see you, sir. He…says it’s urgent.” I can hear the tension in Winston’s clipped voice, and I carefully slip my arm free from Emily. It doesn’t matter, though. She’s already stirring, stretching her lithe little body and rubbing a hand over her eyes. I’m momentarily distracted by thesight of her unfurling in my bed, and Winston clears his throat, reminding me he’s on the line.

I shoot Emily a grin. “Who is it?”

“A Mr. Michael David, sir.”

Oh, shit.

Mike’s here.

What the fuck is Mike doing here?

Winston lowers his voice, and I can picture him turning away from Mike, covering the phone’s mouthpiece with his hand. “He seems quite upset. I can send him on his way.”

My blood runs cold. Shit. This can’t be good. I knew we were going to have to face this sooner or later. I was just hoping for later.

Emily’s sprawled out on the bed beside me, smiling up at me like an angel. She’s naked, and gorgeous, her red hair spilling over the pillow.

Fuck.

“Send him up,” I say, accepting that shit’s about to go down. With a sigh, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed.

Emily sits up, a frown pulling at her pretty face. “Wolf? What’s going on?”

I end the call and set my phone down on the bedside table. I shove a hand through my hair, tugging on the ends, mentally preparing myself for what’s about to happen. “Get dressed, little one. Your brother is on his way up.”

Her pretty green eyes go wide, panic etched into her features. “Mike? What’s he doing here? Does he know…?” She trails off, the sheet twisted between her delicate fingers.

I grab a pair of sweats and tug them on, then do the same with a T-shirt. I shake my head grimly. “I don’t know. But he’s here and he’s apparently pissed.”

Emily leaps out of bed, but before she can run to get some clothes, I snag her wrist and pull her against me. I feel someof the tension leave her body almost immediately. Cradling her head, I look into her eyes.

“Whatever happens, it doesn’t change this, okay? Mike can be mad. He can hit me, scream at me, whatever he needs to do, but he can’t keep me away from you. Nothing will keep me away from you. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go. You understand? This might be ugly, butnothingchanges between us.”

She nods shakily, and I can see the fear, the panic in her eyes. So I kiss her, soft and gentle, trying to reassure her.

She nods and then snuggles into me, and for a moment, I just hold her, letting her soak up any comfort I’m able to offer. It feels too soon when she pulls away, but we both know the clock is ticking.

“I’ll go get dressed.” She picks up her clothes from last night off the floor and then heads for her room. I don’t have the luxury of enjoying watching her move, completely naked, in broad daylight. I don’t have time to fully appreciate her creamy skin covered in freckles, her sleek muscles, the redness on her neck from my beard. She’s a work of art, my girl.

Emily disappears into her room just as a pounding sounds on my door.

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