Page 110 of Branded
Thirty
Kailey
I didn’t realize until I was in Smitty’s arms, and he was spinning me, pinning me against the door roughly enough that all my breath was squeezed out of my lungs that I should have announced myself.
“Kailey?” he exclaimed, quickly releasing the pressure he’d put on my body.
He pulled me away from the door.
“Shit, little bird,” he began, running his hands over me, starting at my head. “Did I hurt you? Fuck”—he spun me around again, stroked over my shoulders, my back, my butt and legs. He even checked my ankles—“shit. I hurt you, didn’t I?”
His voice broke, and my heart squeezed tight.
“Baby,” I said. “Baby.” I grabbed his hands, stilling him when he began investigating me from the front. “I’m okay.”
He started to pull away from me. “I—” A shake of his head. “I’m so sorry. I?—”
“Smitty. Stop.”
He stopped.
“Breathe.”
He breathed.
“Good,” I said, cupping his cheeks, his beard tickling my palms. “Now, I’m guessing that you didn’t get my text?”
A shake of his head. “No, little bird,” he said. “I’m?—”
“Stop apologizing and kiss me.”
Gentle brown eyes, conflict and worry and…something else…written into the lines of his face.
“Smitty,” I ordered. “Take me back into your arms and kiss me.”
Thankfully, that unstuck him enough that he did.
And when he pulled back, some of the worry had faded. “You’re really okay?”
I nodded. “I’m really okay, and I’ve made a mental note to announce myself before jumping you in the future.”
His mouth quirked, just on one side. “I like it when you jump me.”
“Yeah?” I felt a curl of embarrassment creep in. “Is it…I mean…is it okay that I’m here?”
A tremor went through his body, his chest hitching against mine. Then laughter bubbled up and over, filling the air, coating my skin. “Is it okay?” His arms wound tighter around me. “Little bird, when have I ever given you the impression that I don’t want you to be here with me?”
I bit my lip. “I…I guess never?”
He kissed the tip of my nose, tugged my lip free of my teeth. “Never is right, honey.” He nudged me back so we weren’t standing in the hallway any longer. “Come on in and sit down, little bird, and tell me why you thought it was a good idea to be traveling in the middle of the night. How’d you get in, anyway?”
“Claire and I?—”
“Hell, never mind, tell me why in the morning,” he said, drawing me close again, but just as he hit my chest, he rolled so that he was on his back. “It’s late. I’m tired, and I want to fuck you before we both pass out.”
I grinned.
I was exhausted, knew that he had to be with the back-to-back travel, the games and practice and knowing that he had a few more games, including one that would require him to fly out to St. Louis for the next game. Then Minnesota. Then Dallas. All of which had to happen before he was going to be able to head home and we’d have our weekend together.
