Page 172 of Branded
And I was never, ever going to tell anyone about it.
The way the police had looked at me, how my family had looked at me, the whispered words and sharp glances…no.
Just…no.
The physical door swung open at the same time I threw my mental door, locking that shit down.
Raph crept in.
I didn’t need the lights on to know it was him. I’d watched him enough to have memorized his body, his gait. He closed the door almost silently behind him and then moved into the entryway, body turning and freezing when he saw I was sitting up on the couch.
Wearing the thigh-high boots and a jersey with his name and number on it…
I’d hit the pro shop during intermission.
I’d picked up the jersey after the game.
Was I sliding down a stupid slippery slope that was going to end up with my heart broken and Raph hopefully understanding that not all women were like Monica? Yup. Was I being a presumptuous mofo who thought that I could fix a good man? Also, yup. But I was good at caring for people, for giving them the pieces.
And like I’d said, Raph was a good person.
I wanted to give him the pieces to make a good life.
I dropped my feet to the floor, pushed up to standing.
“Beth.”
It was a rasp, dragging over my skin like it was his tongue making patterns, raising goose bumps.
“Oliver said I needed your jersey.”
I spun slowly, showing him my back, and felt the air in the room grow still. But it wasn’t cold. It was scorching hot, leaving my skin feeling charred, as though if I ran my fingers over the surface, it would all turn to ash.
He took one step toward me. Stopped.
“Why?” he croaked.
It was easy to lock everything up and just be in the moment when he sounded like that, when I was watching every line of his body being held in taut control. Except his hands. His hands were shaking.
Until he clenched them in fists at his sides.
“Why?” I asked, playfulness coursing through me.
He was a big bad hockey player, and I could see that his control was splintering, that he was on the edge and holding himself back…and I wanted to tease him.
“Yeah. Why?”
Hoarse words.
Another step.
More halting, his body practically vibrating now.
Moisture between my legs, need coiling through my belly, reminding me I hadn’t had a man in a long time, hadn’t had anyone down there who wasn’t a doctor trying to put these babies in my belly.
I wanted Raph.
I wanted to make him smile and laugh and to brighten his day.
