He looked at the door to her apartment, then dropped his gaze to his hand on the knob. But what he saw was all in his head—and it was Faith’s world in the big picture. He saw who she was, where she’d been, and the mountains she still faced in her future. He saw her stresses, her fears, and all the commitments she honored out of loyalty or love.
A profound sense of humility came over him. He’d been away from his roots too long. He’d been living that fast life with no outside perspective. He’d forgotten just how hard the average American worked every day to stretch those monthly ends until they meet. That took sacrifice and dedication and perseverance. It took hard work and even a certain amount of skill. All the elements Grant had always believed set him apart and made him one of the greatest hockey players in the NHL.
But the truth was, there were a hell of a lot of people who had the same qualities. They just didn’t have thousands of eyes on them nearly every night, eight months out of the year.
Like Faith.
The band around his heart, one he’d only become aware of last night, tightened just a little more, spilling fear into his chest. And fear was an awkward, unfamiliar, painful emotion Grant would rather not experience. It was the reason he’d pushed his fucked up family away. It was the reason he didn’t get serious with women.
He looked up at the door again and realized... “It’s too fuckin’ late for that.”
He was serious about wanting Faith Nicholas.
The concrete revelation took an edge off his thrill of getting upstairs with the hopes of finding Faith lying naked in bed, just waiting for him. But he pulled the door open and noted the silence. She was probably passed out. And that was okay. He liked the idea of just sliding into bed next to her and watching her sleep a while. Maybe he’d take a nap himself, then wake her in the night...
That put the smile back on his face and helped his feet move up the stairs a little easier.
Half way up, his ear caught a voice—but not Faith’s. At the top of the stairs, he found the living room empty and dark and turned toward her bedroom. He stopped in the doorway and found her lying on her bed, curled on her side, with her back toward the door. Her head was propped on her hand and she was watching a video on Grant’s laptop. He’d left it here that morning, along with the video editing software. She wore pale pink sink pajama bottoms that rode low on her hips and a matching tank with spaghetti straps.
Just the sight of her closed a gap in Grant’s life and set everything right. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and exhaled, smiling.
She sniffled and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, hey.” She turned back to the screen. “I was just watching some videos to see if I could learn anything about the software you bought.”
Something was wrong. Like majorly wrong. Even if Grant hadn’t heard it in her voice, he could feel it in the room.
“It’s pretty good.” Sniffle. A clandestine wipe of her eyes. “Have you used this software before? Are they all pretty much the same? How long do you think it would take me to edit a film like the one you took today once I got the hang of it?”
He inched toward the bed, worried and—sonofabitch—scared. He was scared. He hadn’t felt scared since he was a kid and his brothers told him horror stories about the woods nearby then chased him into the trees at night.
The fuckers.
Beside the bed, he reached down and stroked his hand up her arm. She was warm and soft. Even from where he stood he could smell her sweet fresh-from-the-shower scent. And man, did that stir his hunger. But Grant banked that need. “Baby, what happened?”
“Nothing.” She cleared her throat. “How’s your brother doing?”
“Really good.” He put a knee on the bed beside her and leaned over to close the lid on his laptop.
“Hey, buddy,” she tried to joke, “I was watching that.”
He smiled down at her, but the first look at her face punched him in the gut and his humor faded. Her eyes were red and swollen, still glistening with tears. The sight felt like a knife in his gut. “What’s wrong?”
She leaned back against his leg and offered a weak smile. “I wore pink for you. This is all I had in that color.”
Oh, Christ. If he hadn’t already tipped over the edge for her, this moment would have pushed him.
He leaned down, ran his hand over her silky hair and kissed her. She opened to him immediately, her mouth warm and hungry. Her tongue stroked over his lip, then slipped into his mouth and found his.
And just like that, Grant couldn’t remember what they were talking about. The feel of her making that first move, of openly wanting him, blew all his other thoughts out of his mind. He cupped her face and kissed her hard and deep. The satisfied, wanton sound she made in her throat drove Grant to search for more. Her mouth was so fucking perfect. He wanted to rip off her clothes, bury himself inside her, and stay there until they called him back to the ice.
The ice.
Fuck. He’d had to go and think about that.
He broke the kiss and lifted his head. “Baby...” he said, breathless, “let’s talk a minute.”
“I don’t want to talk.” She twisted to reach for the button on his jeans. “I want to use my mouth in other ways.”
He grabbed her hand and held on. Hard. If she got her mouth anywhere near his cock, they wouldn’t be talking about anything substantial for hours. “I want that too, but I need to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”