Bruiser (Seattle Sharks 7)

“Where is your room?” I asked, knowing he was behind me, feeling his massive presence without having to turn around.

“Across the hall,” he said, his voice low, guttural.

The rooms with no water view.

“You could’ve taken this one,” I said, slowly turning around. A coiling, deep in my core, tightened as I saw him standing there, hands in his pockets, those glacial blue eyes solely on me.

Damn him.

Damn him for being more gorgeous than any man should be.

Sure, there was a brutalness to his sharp edges, his muscles, those eyes that screamed they’d seen more than their fair share of darkness, but there was also warmth and kindness and gentleness that radiated from him too. I think the combination—the terror that warned people to stay away and that smoothness that drew me in—was what had my head spinning.

That, or it could be the fact that it had been literally years since I’d felt a flicker of a flame of desire for anyone, and this man…this edged, giant of a man had been so kind to Elliott, so kind to me, that I couldn’t possibly not be drawn to him.

“You deserve this,” he said, taking another step toward me. So close I had to arch my neck to meet his eyes. “And Elliott,” he added, something like delight dancing across his eyes. “It’s good to get away from the city now and then. Rediscover your own humanity and all that. Not constantly work.”

I rose a brow. “You practice or work out every single day. You work harder than I do.”

He shook his head. “My job is easy.”

I huffed a laugh.

“It is,” he said. “It’s muscle memory and focus and determination. It’s instinct and survival and shooting for the win. It’s—”

“Primal,” I cut him off, knowing there was likely no other word to better describe the man in front of me.

A small, almost imperceptible grin crooked his lip.

“Exactly. Primal,” he said, his voice so low and growly that a chill raced down my spine. “And your profession?” He cocked that brow, the one with the scar dissecting it. “It’s all of those things and more. The work you do…helping people and saving kids and…” he sighed. “It’s emotional and exhausting and takes every single thing from you.”

I swallowed hard.

“And yet,” he continued. “You show up. Every day.”

“So do you,” I said. “Even when you’re literally beat down on the job.”

He snorted. The man actually snorted. “It’s a rare day on the ice that anyone is strong enough to get the drop on me.”

A shudder rippled through me. A mish-mash of fear and desire and respect and appreciation. I abhorred violence, couldn’t stand the thought of it, especially for sport. But I couldn’t deny the honesty in his words. No boasting, or posturing, simply fact. When it came to Hudson Porter, there was a low percentage of men that could stand toe-to-toe with him, let alone skate-to-skate. Not that I’d ever seen him play, and likely never would.

“I should change,” I finally said when the silence was too much for me to bare.

Another flash of a grin, this one more wicked than before.

Damn him.

“So I can go be with Elliott,” I said, clarified, whatever.

“I’ll meet you down there,” he said, never slipping his hands from those pockets as he sauntered toward the door, and then out of the room.

I blew out a breath and hurried to change into more comfortable beach clothes—a pair of white cotton shorts, sandals, and a breezy black top. I opted for contacts over my usual black-rimmed glasses, knowing with Elliott, any manner of balls would be flying toward me.

Hurrying downstairs and out of the resort, I found Elliott in the middle of a lively volleyball game against Porter and Connor. Lettie and Hannah were on her team.

“Need another player?” I asked, kicking off my sandals.

“That’s cheating!” Connor teased. “Four against two is hardly fair.”

“Don’t worry, Bridgerton,” Elliott said, and I almost laughed at how much she sounded like Porter in that moment. “She’s not any good.”

“Hey!” I chided, laughing as I swatted Elliott on her butt.

She giggled, tossing the ball back and forth. “What? You taught me never to lie!”

I rolled my eyes. Lord help me with this one. She was too smart for her own good.

“Maybe wait for the next game, Mom,” she said.

I gaped at her.

“Fine,” I said. “If no one wants me I’ll just go sun myself.” I turned to head to the oversize lounge chairs resting a few yards away from the beach net. The same ones Bailey and Paige were sprawled across.

“I want you,” Porter said, his words halting my movements in their tracks. A warmth sizzled through my blood, that coil inside me tightening another degree. “On my team,” he hurried to add, clearing his throat. “Our team,” he grunted when Connor cocked a brow at him.

“If she’s on your team,” Lukas called from behind me, his accent slightly thick as he stepped on the girls’ side of the net, shirtless. “Then I will delight in helping these girls crush you two goons.”

“You’re on,” Connor said. “Though, they could win without you.” He winked at Hannah, and that sweet gesture snapped me out of my stare-down with Porter. I shook off the shock of his words and skipped to their side of the net.

“She wasn’t lying,” I whispered to Porter. “I truly am awful.”

He shrugged, digging his feet in the sand, his calf muscles tensing as he shifted into some sort of readying position. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, glancing at me. “This is the side you need to be on.”

I wetted my lips, unable to take my eyes off him.

He motioned toward Elliott. “You can see her moves better from here,” he winked. “The girl hasn’t met a sport she can’t dominate.”

That was the truth, but I was still standing there struck by his words when she unleashed those awesome skills and spiked the ball…

Right in front of where I was standing.

The sand sprayed my bare legs from the impact, and I heard Lukas whistle at my complete lack of movement.

“Mom,” Elliott groaned.

“I wasn’t ready!” I laughed and kicked the ball under the net back toward her.

She scooped it up. “Are you ready now?”

I nodded, trying to mimic the power stances Porter and Connor donned. The motion earned me a goofy, almost sad smile from Elliott, and she handed the ball to Hannah for her turn to serve.

Twenty minutes later, I hadn’t exactly helped the team, but I hadn’t hindered it either. I managed to pop a couple balls to Connor, Porter in the position behind me. The sun had settled in the center of the sky, blazing us with such warm rays that the other guys had opted to lose their shirts too.

It was an effort not to be breathless—both because of the game and all the damned carved abs flying and flexing around me.

None were more defined than Porter’s—or maybe they were, but I wasn’t as drawn to them as I was to the giant behind me.

God, I wanted to keep looking over my shoulder just to sneak a peek of his gloriousness, but I kept my eyes firmly forward. Lukas was impeccable, more gracefully muscled than broad, but he didn’t make my stomach flip. Not even with the accent. That thought alone would’ve certainly had me thinking I was broken for good on men, but whenever I heard Porter move behind me, that flaming tingle shot up my spine. Over and over until I was spending so much time trying not to think about him and the way he was winding me up with no effort at all that I almost missed the ball Elliott spiked my way.

I snapped into action, shuffling backward to try and compensate for my near miss, and as I leaped to try and meet the ball, I crashed against a wall of muscle so fast and so hard that I brought us toppling to the sand.

Our limbs tangled, and Porter’s body was so massive over mine that he blocked out the sun, the bright rays illuminating his silhouette like some damned Greek

god. I humphed from the impact, from the weight of him that wasn’t at all unpleasant, and my hands flew to his chest automatically.

His skin was hot and smooth under my fingers, and the ink underneath them? I almost started tracing the bold lines and curves with my fingertips.

Good gracious, he smells good.

This close it was all I could breathe in—his scent of salt and sand and something close to pine.

“You okay?” he asked, hefting himself on his elbows, that delicious weight leaving my body so fast I almost whimpered.

Damn, it has been entirely too long.

My heart raced inside my chest so hard I was afraid he could feel it.

I laughed, almost a bit hysterically, and shook my head. “Fine,” I said. “Horrible at the game, like Elliott said, but fine.”

He smiled down at me, and that’s when I realized he’d made no move to stand up. Instead, those eyes were locked on mine, something churning behind them. He parted his lips to say more—

“Mom!” Elliott said, and it snapped the tether between us. Porter hopped up, offering a hand to tug me to my feet.

“Yes?” I asked, dusting the sand from my shirt and shorts.

“Your phone?” Elliott raised her brows at me.

I tilted my head at her.

“It won’t stop ringing.”

I blinked out of my haze and hurried across the sand to where I’d stashed my phone and bag on the lounge chair next to Bailey.

“Hello?” I answered quickly, not recognizing the number.

“Ms. Lansing?” Melisa’s voice was tear-soaked.

“What’s wrong? Is Liam okay?” I blurted out the words, panic seizing my muscles.

“He’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry to call like this.”

“It’s okay,” I said, my breath evening upon hearing the baby was okay. “What’s going on?” If she was calling my personal cell phone, on a Saturday, then something was definitely wrong.