Rookie (Seattle Sharks 4)

I slipped into some cotton pants and headed shirtless into the kitchen.

Needing the movement, the distraction, because if I stayed in that bed a minute longer, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from kissing her awake.

Twenty minutes later, I heard movement from down the hall.

“Morning.” Chloe’s voice was still coated with sleep as she found me in the kitchen.

I finished plating the breakfast I’d just made and set the plates on the kitchen island—the opposite side of where I’d eaten her for a midnight snack last night.

“Good morning,” I said, the sight of her—still in nothing but my shirt, wide-eyed and timid, like she didn’t want to burst whatever bubble we’d fallen into—took my breath away. “I figured since I’m not allowed to take you out for pancakes, I would make you some.”

A smile chased away the fear in her eyes, and she sat down on one of the barstools.

“This is . . . amazing, Bentley,” she said, glancing down at the plate.

Pancakes, strawberries, and bacon.

“I’d never forget your favorite meal of the day,” I said, switching off the burners and sliding around to take the seat next to her.

She grabbed for the mug of hot coffee first, taking a fast sip before setting it down. “You didn’t have to do this,” she said.

“I wanted to.” I picked up my fork and dug in, wanting to fill my mouth with something before I broke and tried to fill it with her again.

Last night we’d been slightly buzzed and emotionally charged and drunk from the events of our past. I didn’t know if she’d found closure in what we did, or if she regretted it because of the risks.

And yeah, maybe I was being a chicken-shit, but I wanted to spend a few more precious minutes with her before I asked her what the hell we were doing.

Because watching her take sweet bites of her breakfast, the ease in her shoulders, the smile on her lips at the flavors I’d created—it felt right in so many ways. Like the picture I’d had for my life long ago. Her by my side, mornings before work, and sensual nights spent worshiping her before we fell asleep in an exhausted yet sated state.

She shifted on the stool, crossing one leg over the other, my shirt riding high on her hips again, that peek of silk so tempting I wanted to tear it off with my teeth.

The morning wood had simmered while I’d cooked, but a new one was back in full force.

Just like that.

I wanted her.

I never wanted anyone as much as I did in that moment.

“This is better than any breakfast place you could’ve taken me to,” she said when she’d cleaned her plate.

“I don’t know about that,” I said, scooping up her plate and mine and carrying them to the sink. Though my pancakes did taste better because her flavor was still in my mouth—despite brushing my teeth.

It was like the girl had soaked into my soul.

“I do,” she said, a tease in her voice. “And if you remember correctly, I’m always right.”

I snorted, running water over the plates before spinning around so my back rested against the counter.

Her eyes trailed the length of my body—hungry, churning with desire so intense I could almost smell it.

Fuck, the way she grazed them over my bare chest, down my abdomen, to the cotton pants hung low on my hips, the ones that did nothing to hide what was hard and ready for her—it was enough to make me grip the counter behind me in an effort not to storm the distance between us.

“You aren’t always right,” I said, my voice gruff and damn near primal.

I needed to get a grip.

She popped her lips in faux-shock. “When have I ever been wrong?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, her eyes flashing wide at the sight of my flexed biceps. A smirk shaped my lips. “How about the time you insisted we explore the abandoned paper warehouse in the middle of the night?”

She laughed. “I was twelve.”

“And what happened?”

She bit her lower lip. “We ended up getting lost . . .”

“For hours,” I finished for her, chuckling. “Our parents called the cops because we weren’t in our beds.”

She rolled her eyes, her hands wrapped around her mug off coffee as she brought it to her lips. “That was one time.”

“What about the time you went to the sixth-grade dance with Joey Palamino?”

“What? How was that wrong?” She set her mug down, pointing a polished finger at me. “You didn’t ask me to go. He did.”

“It was the wrong choice,” I said.

“I don’t think it was.” There was a sly grin on her lips. “After you saw us at the dance . . . what happened?”

She knew what happened.

I dropped my arms and stalked the distance until I towered over where she sat. “I took you behind the school and kissed you for the first time.”

We’d been kids.

With no way of knowing what we were doing.

But that kiss shook something inside me.

Something I couldn’t possibly understand, but over the years of calling her mine—I figured it out.

Chloe was the other half of my soul.

The light to my dark.

“You wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t been crazy with jealousy. Of Joey Palamino, no less.” She tipped her chin up, staring me down, defiant and teasing and fucking perfect. “So, technically I was right.”

I shook my head, one arm on either side of her.

“You were wrong last night,” I admitted.

Seriousness coated her eyes, her shoulders dropping as she continued to look up at me. “You think it was a mistake,” she said, defeated, and finally dropped her gaze.

The Chloe I remembered would never have dropped her guard like that, would never have accepted defeat, shy away from a challenge.

What happened to you?

Cold fear coiled in my gut, wondering if she’d told me everything about her past, or if there was more darkness lurking there.

I tipped her chin up, re-capturing those eyes.

“You were wrong,” I said. “When you agreed to just a night.”

Her breath caught when I shifted closer, caging her in.

“I can’t do it, Chloe.” I sighed, my entire body aching to feel hers. “You don’t understand. I need you. On a level I can’t even fathom. And I know it’s stupid. I know we aren’t allowed. But I can’t stay away from you. Not after last night. Hell, not after you walked into my life again.”

Her bottom lip trembled.

“I don’t care what we have to do. If I need to be your dirty little secret, so fucking be it. Just let me have you, Chloe.”

The silence swirled between us so long as she stared up at me, a battle in her eyes, that I finally took a step back, freeing her.

I’d never force this on her.

With me, the choice was always hers.

“If you don’t want me, that’s a different story,” I said, pain crashing in waves in my gut. Last night . . . I swore she’d felt it, too.

Another step back.

She darted her hand out, capturing my wrist.

“I’ve never not wanted you, Bent.”

I flicked my gaze to hers, begging her not to play.

But I found nothing but sincerity in her eyes.

I let her tug me toward her as she hopped off the stool, arching her neck to meet my eyes.

“I don’t want to cost you anything,” she said again.

“You won’t,” I assured her even though I had no way of knowing what would happen if we did this.

If we crossed this line for real.

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But she read my mind. “You can’t know that.”

“I know,” I admitted. “But one thing I’m certain of?” I fingered the strands of hair at her ear. “I can’t stay away from you.”

“I don’t want you to,” she said, a sigh on the end as she reached up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around my neck.

The feel of her body against mine surged a current of electricity through me, and I hooked my arm under the globes of her ass, hefting her off her feet and to my eye level.

“Tell me what you want,” I said.

If she asked me to let her go, I would.

If she asked me to call Coach or HR or the fucking CEO of the Sharks right now, and tell them about us, I would.

I was more than prepared to be what she needed because she was all my body and soul demanded.

“I want your forgiveness,” she said. “I want you, Bent.” She brushed her lips over mine, so light, so teasing. “I know it’s selfish, and I don’t deserve it, but I want it all.”

I shifted her against me, and she trembled.

How could she not tell I’d already forgiven her? The second she’d explained, the moment I’d understood . . . I’d forgiven her.

I went for her lips, ready to claim them, but she pulled back.

“But,” she said, and my heart stopped. “I can’t cost you your career. And you know what this job means for my mother.”

I swallowed hard, preparing to sit her down.

“Secret,” she whispered, her grip around the back of my neck tightening. “Is that okay? Until we figure out a better plan? Can I have you, Bentley? All of you?”

My heart soared, and I pressed my forehead against hers. “You’ve always owned every inch of me,” I said before I slanted my mouth over hers.

The tiny whimper that escaped her throat as I parted her lips with my tongue sent me spiraling.

Crazy for this girl.

I flicked and sucked and danced, our tongues tasting and teasing and taking.

God damn, she was like living flame as she wrapped her legs around my hips. Her silk covered center was hot against the cotton of my pants.

“Bent,” she moaned, arching within my hold, sending shockwaves of heat all the way up my spine.

“Tell me what you want,” I said again, needing to hear her say it.

Needing verbal confirmation that we were on the same page.