Page 28 of The Singapore Stunt

It’s not a request but more of a self-invitation. One which I RSVP to immediately.

“Lose the shorts.” He complies without hesitation, and I know immediately that this shower will not be quick, and neither one of us is going to get a lick of sleep tonight.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mattias

My fitness watch buzzes on my wrist at this ridiculous hour, four thirty in the morning. Not that it woke me. Either of us.

Kimberly has her head resting on my chest, my fingers playing with her magnificent mane. It’s a hive of sweaty curls from our all-night activities.

She slips her hand underneath my back and pulls me tight. “I don’t want this night to end.” I feel the same way. A night filled with intimacy and long talks, the walls I’d built over so many years slowly crumbling away as I shared things that only Xavier is aware of.

“We never slept, so technically, it’s still yesterday.”

She laughs and lifts her chin to rest on my chest. I stare into the most gorgeous set of eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. “Technically, that makes it the best day of my life.”

My mouth snaps shut with her words. How is that possible? She’s had a billion-dollar movie release. Has jet-setted around the world with the world’s elite. I tilt forward and press my lips to hers. It is probably the thousandth kiss we’ve shared, but this one is different. It’s filled with respect wrapped in gratitude.

“I’m so glad you knocked on my door.”

She giggles again, a sound I’ve grown to love and need. Her hand forms a small fist, and she taps lightly on my chest like she did last night. “Thank you for letting me in. I won’t tell anybody that you have your own set of sunshine inside that gruff exterior. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Our eyes connect, and I feel the warmth in my chest. Her warm eyes, her beautiful words, force me to knock down yet another wall. I reach for her hand, wrapping my hand around her index finger. I direct it to my scar.

“I was a hotshot baseball prospect. Nineteen years old.” I stroke her finger against the scar, a move I’ve never done with anyone else. Her long lashes flutter as she looks past the scar into my eyes, and I know she sees me. The man. It’s the reason I continue.

“ESPN had me ranked among their twenty top prospects in the game. My future was going to be all-star games, million-dollar contracts, and magazine covers. The owners of the minor league club catered to their sponsors, local and regional companies who advertised with the team.” I pause and gather my thoughts.

We are facing a ticking clock. She has a 5:00 a.m. reporting time on set for hair and makeup. I have a check-in with the production team on the overnight setup on the roof of the hotel. She doesn’t rush me. When I look into her eyes, it says the opposite. Take all the time you need.

“Some entitled rich kid. The son of one sponsor had his dad lobby to have him take batting practice on the field before one of our games. It wasn’t that unusual. The owners found many ways to reward the sponsors: throwing out the first pitch, autograph signings, you name it. This douche brought three of his friends with him. All of them were equally entitled pricks. While he swung at pitches he couldn’t hit, his friends tossed around balls in the field.” My throat goes dry.

“Their time was up. Coach ordered them off the field and waved us on for our warm-ups. They were supposed to exit the field. One of douche’s friends, running in from the outfield, stopped at the pitcher’s mound. He picked up a ball, called his friend’s name, and tossed the ball at him. He was no longer in the batter’s box; he wasn’t behind a protective screen or anything. He was on the infield and took a swing he had no business making.

“I had stepped onto the infield, just ten feet from where he stood. Muscle memory. My head pivoted toward the sound of the crack of the bat. I was too close, my world-class reflexes useless at that distance.

“The ball hit me square in the face. It cracked my sunglasses, sending shards into my cornea.”

Kimberly pulls back her hand from my face, her hand forming a fist. She rests it on my chest. Her eyes fill with a look that screams she wishes she was with me at that moment. And it means the world to me.

“One swing of the bat, and I lost everything. The doctors were able to save my eye, but I’ll never be able to pick up the rotation spin of a fastball moving at a hundred miles an hour ever again. Hell, I couldn’t manage an eighty-four-mile-an-hour changeup. My career was over before it ever got started. With my career gone, next was my girlfriend. We had been together since high school. She stuck with me through the nine-hour bus rides, the constant travel, all the crap that comes with being a minor leaguer. But this.” My voice cracks with the memory. Megan and I were kids, but we had dared to talk about a future together. “At least she waited until I was home from the hospital before telling me she thought it best that I have time alone.

I fell into a depression that lasted six months. I traded one pain for another picking. I hung out in bars to drown my sorrow. But anytime someone looked at my face and pointed, I started a fight. More fights than there have been James Bond movies. I spiraled down a path that would eventually lead to people discovering my body in a filthy alleyway. And I didn’t care. But Xavier did. Xavier came knocking on my door and saved me.”

I don’t need to connect the rest of the dots for Kimberly to see how broken I am. Only with her in my arms do I even allow myself to dare dream of being whole again. For the first time in quite a while, I’m excited about a future.

Her fingers drum across my chest, and a soft smile warms my heart. She’s still here. Even after. “I know that must’ve been hard to share. Thank you for letting me in.” She presses a kiss to my abs, and my body reacts. A short smirk builds on the corner of her mouth, and she knows. Even after all we’ve done all night, my body wants more. I want more. I suspect I will never get my fill of her.

“Next time, my turn,” she says, brushing her hair from her face. Her electric eyes promise me a future. Another night like this. Another moment like this. Two souls sharing painful stories from our past. I have an inventory of them that would rival Sam’s Club. I can’t imagine hers is a tenth as long as mine. “Stay with me at the Marina Bay tonight. They’ve set me up with a suite.” Her eyes scan the small room I have. “And a king-size bed.”

I chuckle. “I guess that’s my cue to remember you are flipping into movie star mode. You sure you want to ride with me to the set, or are they sending a limo for you?” I only half joke. I expected things to change with the crew yesterday, but Kimberly went out of her way to show me it hadn’t. I don’t see how she does that today. She’ll have two assistants tracking her every movement the second she arrives on set. Marlon, Wesley, and two of the producers are on set to watch her specifically.

She pushes up on her hands and presses a ghost kiss on my lips before she scoots off the bed. “Seeing that you didn’t jump at my invitation, I think I’ll place my thumb on the scale.” She profiles in the doorway leading to the bathroom. “Arlene is running an errand for me today. Something that will be waiting for me in my suite for tonight.”

She teases me, and I play along. “What is it?”

“It’s a secret.” She runs her hands through her hair, combing it, well aware of what that move does to me. “Victoria’s Secret.” She winks at me and then hides behind the closed bathroom door.

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