Page 221 of Scoring the Player
“Nah, I can get you another cup. Here”—I reach in to grab his duffel and graze his hand—it’s ice cold. The back of my palm reaches up and grazes the side of his face. “Blue, you’re freezing. What happened to you tonight?”
He doesn’t answer me. His eyes close, and his face leans into my touch. A fresh set of tears spills down his face, all my restraint snaps, and I pull him into my arms. “Hey.” I kiss his forehead. “You’re safe.”
His arms wrap around me, tighter than our last morning at the cabin. He seemed so afraid to let go of me that day. Something he saw in the ruins of the house in the field rattled him. This is different.
“God, I’ve missed you,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. I tilt his chin up. My breath hitches when I see more tears pooling in his eyes.
“Don’t let go,” he pleads.
I’m in love with you. I wouldn’t know how to let go.“Your face is ice cold—I want to run a bath for us.”
He huffs out a breath. “A bath?”
“Yeah.”
He tries to step back, but I hold on to him.
“I didn’t come here for you to take care of me. I came here to fix us and?—”
“Shh,” I reply. “I know. Come on.”
I listen to his quiet breaths for a moment as he takes in my bedroom. Something about my bed lightens the heaviness in his eyes. He walks over to my nightstand, and his fingers trail over the open pastry book lying face down on top.
“This way.” I guide him to the bathroom.
We silently watch each other as the tub fills, and we undress.
When I go to climb in first, he says, “Please. Can I hold you?”
“Okay,” I reply, letting him climb in first.
His hand clutches the side of the tub, and steam blankets his knuckle tattoos. His eyes flutter shut as he lowers into the bathwater. I give him a few moments to himself, slipping out to grab his water refill.
Head leaned back, his stare is distant when I return.
“Here,” I murmur, offering him a sip.
He drains the water even faster than the last one.
When I reach for the cup to place it down, he holds on to my hand. “Come,” he whispers.
I climb in and lean back against his chest, not sinking against him all the way at first, but when I feel the quickened thump of his heartbeat against my back, I let go and settle all my weight against him. His heartbeat slows.
Arnaz
“Thank you.” I break the silence that permeated our bath as I climb into bed next to him. The deep chill in my bones now gone.
“You’re welcome. Need anything else?”
He just came back from running downstairs and refilling our waters. “I’m okay.”
He nods and kills the lights. “Good night.”
“Good night,” I reply.
Minutes pass of me battling to stay where I am or shift toward him to close the distance between us.
I want to talk to him.
