Page 42 of Passing the Red Line
The small smile she gives me tells me that she is trying to be strong at this very moment, but the emotions running through are too strong and they could take over any minute.
It may not be my place, but I shift my hand from her chin up to her cheek and try to comfort her in the best way I can.
“Your mom would be proud of you. Hell, she is proud of you,” I say, leaning forward just a bit and placing a small kiss against her lips.
“You don’t know that,” she says when I pull away.
“I do. You made a name for yourself, without your dad’s help. Not only that, but you’re also the team photographer for a professional hockey team, at twenty eight. Only a handful of people can say that. She would be proud of you, Eliana.”
Her light brown eyes look up at me, as if she is trying to decide if I’m being honest with her or if I'm just spewing out bullshit.
It’s not bullshit. It’s the absolute truth, and if we were in a different type of relationship than what we are now, I would tell her that I’m proud of her too.
Because I am. I’ve known this woman for six weeks and I’m proud of all that she’s accomplished, and I don’t even know half of it.
Instead of saying words, Eliana leans up to place a kiss on my lips just like I did to her a minute earlier.
“Thank you, Christian.”
“You’re welcome.” I say, giving her another kiss, wishing I can do so much more.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Eliana
“What?”I yell out, trying to be heard over the shower in Christian master bathroom.
The water pressure here is so much better than at my rental. I freaking love it so much.
“I said,” Christian says, opening up the shower door and getting in. “That I might not make it back home tonight but you're free to stay here if you want.”
I hear his words, but I’m not paying attention to what he’s actually saying. The only thing that I can concentrate on is that the man just walked in here like he owes the damn place and legit moves me out of the way so that he can start washing his hair.
“Excuse me, I was busy.” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
“I have to get to the airport. Did you even hear what I just said?” he asks, looking down at me as he lathers shampoo in his hair.
“Yes, I heard you.” I cross my arms at him.
“What did I say then?” he asks, turning to face me, and I try really hard not to look at him below the waist.
“That you might not be home,” I answer, grabbing the shampoo bottle from his hand and squirting some into my hand.
Who does this man think he is ruining my shower?
“And?” He asks, reaching over me to grab the conditioner.
I finally met a man that actually uses conditioner and not that two in one shit.
“And what?” I say, pushing him out of the way so that I can get under the water.
If this is going to be a daily occurrence, he’s going to have to install two shower heads in here. A girl needs her own space sometimes and he’s taking up most of it. Damn huge ass hockey players.
“What else did I say?” He asks and I turn just in time for him to give me an eye roll.
“That I can stay here if I want to,” I answer, sighing as the water from the shower head hits my scalp so perfectly.
“And you’re just going to ignore that?”
