I’ve never wanted a woman as much or the way I want Kendall.
I only hope she feels the same.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
NASH
Not worrying about Paisley this weekend helped me keep my mind on the game last night, but when I went to bed for the second night in my hotel room, all thoughts of football were gone.
After the game, the first thing I did was check my phone, which was filled with pictures of Paisley. They spent the day at Kendall’s house making cookies, and Paisley posed in front of the television, kissing my face when I was on the screen.
Kendall sent me plenty of pictures of Paisley kissing Miles’s face too, but that’s better than Kendall kissing him. I love that she had my game on and paused it so my daughter could see me. I don’t talk about football with her, not wanting to bore her. She’s shown no interest in sports yet, and I’m fine keeping her away from it all and the risk of injury.
I flip through the pictures again, wishing Kendall sent me some of her. Even so, I appreciate her taking the time and thinking of me.
Since Walker left our room to talk to Riley in private, I use the alone time to text Kendall, even though I know it’s past Paisley’s bedtime.
I want to Facetime her, to see if she listened to my request and slept in my bed, but Kendall is more relaxed when we text.
ME: How did tonight go?
It’s late in Boston, and she has to get up early for school, even earlier to get Paisley ready to tag along with her, but I’m selfish enough to want to talk to her. She doesn’t keep me waiting and responds immediately.
KENDALL: Fine.
I chuckle, picturing her working overtime to try to piss me off. The fact that she sent me pictures and is texting me now tells me she doesn’t hate me as much as she’d like to.
ME: Thank you for having the game on and sending me pictures. That really meant a lot. It’s hard being away from Paisley so much. Knowing she’s with you and enjoying every second relieves a lot of stress.
KENDALL: Imagine all the extra stress you’d have tonight, and the shitty game you’d probably have played if I didn’t storm down your door and demand to watch her. Your head would be even farther up your ass than it already is.
She’d be pissed as hell if she knew her rant made me laugh. I’ll kill her with kindness instead, even though I know she wants a fight.
ME: You’re right about the game. If Paisley wasn’t with you, I’d have been distracted. However, I’m pretty distracted tonight. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.
KENDALL: Paisley is asleep. I can try to wake her up if you want to say goodnight, but I told her your game wouldn’t get over until past her bedtime. We left my house at halftime, and she was conked before we got back. I carried her to her bed, and she didn’t stir.
ME: She’s not the cause for my distraction tonight.
Three minutes go by, and Kendall doesn’t respond. I wish I had cameras in my house to watch her, to see her reaction. When I see she’s not going to take my bait, I send another text.
ME: Are you in my bed, Kendall?
Still nothing. She could have gotten up to use the bathroom or to get a snack. But I don’t think so. She’s reading my texts, biting her bottom lip as she contemplates how to reply, if she’s going to reply at all.
ME: Tell me you’re in my bed. That your hair is fanned out across my pillow. That my sheets are brushing across your bare nipples.
My cock hardens and I slip a hand under my boxers, fisting myself.
KENDALL: Do you want me to lie to you and tell you I’m in your bed so you can jerk off in your hotel room? Or do you want the truth? That I’m wearing sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt, and a hoodie, curled up in the guest room with my hair a mess and a mud mask on my face?
Fuck, I love her spark.
ME: I want the truth, Kendall. Always. But I can’t help fantasizing about you waiting for me in my bed.
KENDALL: I’m not waiting for anyone. I have to get up at the ass crack of dawn to get ready for work and to get Paisley up an hour before she’s used to, then fight Boston traffic because your house is farther from the school and in the opposite direction as mine.
She’s good at deflecting, but I’m not easily deflected.