Page 115 of Full Tilt
I wait for the images of Tommy hitting Holt to come sailing back into my mind or the way he made me cry in Lloyd’s. The ways we tried to fuck each other over in the early days.
Not one of those images materializes. Only peace. All I can see is Tommy in front of me.
He takes my hand and kisses each one of my fingers in turn. “I’m so fucking scared. I love you, and I’m so fucking scared about what that means for me if you walk away and decide that there’s too much history between us. That we’re irreparable and I’ve hurt you too many times. I know I’m not the safest bet when it comes to boyfriends, and I know when your brother finds out that I pushed my way back into your life, he’ll want to murder me, but I have to tell you. I can’t hold it in anymore because it’s who I am now. And you know what?” He places my palm over his heart, and I watch as the scissors and thread disappear beneath my hand. “You put me back together. I think you might’ve fixed me. So, while—for once in my life—I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m terrified, I am so thankful to you for helping me seelight. The tattoos on my body no longer reflect who I am, but serve as a reminder of the person I never want to be again. Even if you turn away and decide I’m not the guy for you, I know I’ll never go back to the bitter man I was before I met you.”
“Tommy I?—”
“Shh …” Tommy sets a single finger against my lips. “It’s okay, Jenna. You don’t need to say a thing. Let’s just live in this moment. Let me have my time with my girl.”
My throat is thick, and my palms are sweaty as Tommy continues to move beneath me. There’s no way that we’re just fucking anymore. His breathing, his eyes, and his actions have turned into something way deeper. And I move with him, taking a risk with my own feelings while I let him pull me in.
Ringing filters from another room in Tommy’s apartment, cutting through the moment between us.
“Wait, what’s that?” I say, looping my hands around the nape of his neck.
Tommy’s brow creases as he listens. “Did you swipe my card and order more leggings when I wasn’t looking?”
I smirk and shake my head at him. “No. But that isn’t a bad idea.”
He rolls his eyes when the ringing doesn’t stop, and I reluctantly climb off his lap.
Tommy stands and pulls on some athletic shorts, handing me his oversize training top to wear.
It smells of him as I pull it on, and for the briefest second, I catch his eyes as they ascend the length of my body, pausing when he sees his initials stamped across my chest.
He leans down, setting a kiss over them. “Stay here for me. I’ll go and see what they want.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
TOMMY
Because I don’t do takeouts and my social calendar isn’t exactly stacked, I know that whoever is requesting permission to access my floor is likely someone I don’t see on the regular.
Security only ever dials my internal phone when they have a visitor standing in front of them in the lobby.
Maybe it’s Jack, Archer, Sawyer or maybe even Emmett stopping by to kick back and relax or work out in my home gym—which they have freely admitted is ten times better than their own, just by the pictures I showed them the other day.
After Coach called me into his office following the Philly game and confirmed that my official warning had been rescinded and that they had zero intention of dropping me from the roster, my life feels a world away from where it was six months ago. Even three months ago.
All I need is the girl in my bedroom to make it official between us, and I’ll be golden.
“Hi,” I simply say when I pick up the receiver.
“Good morning, Mr. Schneider,” a deep and very official-sounding male voice greets me.
I’ve been living in this apartment since I signed with the Blades, but I have made zero effort to get to know the doorman or security stationed down in the lobby. Jenna would know this guy by name. Hell, she’d probably even share a pizza with him.
“How are you?” I blurt out awkwardly.
There’s a pause on the line. It’s brief but pronounced, and I cringe at how weird that just sounded.
“I’m, err … very well. Thank you for asking, Mr. Schneider.”
“You can just call me Tommy.” I continue my ramble.
Another pause.
“Tommy,” he says, “I have a visitor down here in the lobby who is requesting access to your floor. He tells me he’s family and you are expecting him. However, as he doesn’t have a temporary code, which only you can provide to guests, I wanted to be sure that we should go ahead and allow him up.”
