Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“You don’t actually feel that.”
It wasn’t a question. Braden said it with authority, like he was an expert on the matter, and the matter was me.
And I wanted to argue, but again, the words died in my throat.
He was right.
I wasn’t embarrassed to be a dancer for the Seahawks. I was fucking proud. It lit me up — how hard I had to work to make the team, the hours I put into practice, the routines and the physique I kept and the way I felt when I was all dressed up under those stadium lights.
And yet…
“I do when they’re around,” I whispered.
He squeezed my knee, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Everything else sucks at the moment, too,” I said with a dramatic sigh, deciding to keep moving before we went too far down the mommy and daddy issues path. “It had to happen to my right wrist, didn’t it? Can’t brush my teeth without it taking seven minutes and making a mess on myself, or open any container, or text without using the voice-to-text option — which I sadly have to admit I find easier than texting when I have two perfectly healthy hands and now might be a serious addiction I’ll never be able to break. All of it just makes me want to throw my phone across the room, but I can’t even do that properly.”
That earned me a smirk.
I swallowed, shaking my head. “And don’t even get me started on my hair.” My chest ached anew with that topic change. “I had glam rip everything out after the game. All the pieces, the curls, the whole production. So now it’s just me… which would be fine if I had two functioning wrists.”
His gaze flicked to my cast.
“I’m going to get it braided so I don’t have to mess with it for a few weeks. But my appointment’s not until—” I sighed. “Next week, I think?” I leaned back into the couch, exhaling. “So until then, I’m just getting by. Can’t even pull it into a decent bun without it looking like I fought for my life and lost. It hurts my left arm to do it, too, which the doctor warned me could happen. He said to rest as much as I can so I don’t injure my left arm from overuse. Easy for you to say, Doc!”
“I could help.”
I blinked. “With… what, moral support?”
“With your hair.”
I stared at him.
Braden just shrugged, like he hadn’t just offered something wildly intimate. “I’m serious.”
I let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “You don’t even know what you’re volunteering for.”
“Try me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Braden, this is not like… run your fingers through it and call it a day. This is a whole process.”
“All right,” he said easily. “Then walk me through it.”
I huffed, shaking my head, but there was something in his expression that softened me — steady, patient, like he wasn’t joking, like he wasn’t going anywhere.
Why did that make my heart beat faster?
“It’s already washed,” I said, shifting a little. “The glam squad detangled it and put product in before they left, bless their souls. I just can’t… do anything with it now.”
He nodded, his eyes still sincerely locked on mine. “So what do you need?”
I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
“Honestly? Just… a loose braid. Something to keep it from tangling up again.”
“That I can do.”
I arched a brow. “Can you?”
“Used to braid my sister’s hair all the time,” he said. “Not exactly the same, but… I’ve got the basics.”
“Your sister doesn’t have my hair.”
“No,” he agreed easily. “But you can tell me what to do.”
God.
I shouldn’t have found that as attractive as I did. But the fact that he was offering to help me, that he wanted to help, that he wasn’t the least bit intimidated… it warmed me like a hot cup of herbal tea.
And the thought of having this man’s hands on me again was enough to shred any last doubt I was holding onto.
I shifted, turning slightly toward him. “Okay, but you have to listen.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You’ve got to be gentle.”
He smirked. “Interesting. I would have thought you’d like it rough.”
My mouth popped open, and I swatted him with my good arm playfully. “Listen, we can flirt later, but not when you have your hands in my hair. Got it? We’re on business now.”
He wet his lips — the bold motherfucker — his eyes sweeping over me with the tease. “Yes, Boss.”
“You don’t get to use that name.”
“I do when the roles are reversed like this.”
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up before I change my mind.”
Braden laughed, the sound deep and delicious from his beautiful throat. Then, his eyes settled on me, sincere and loaded. “I’ve got you,” he promised.
And I was so fucked because I believed him.
“Come here.”
He gestured to the space on the floor between his legs, offering a hand to help me maneuver down. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t cherish every touch and sweep of my skin against his on the way.