Page 109 of Keep Me Close

I pull her closer until she’s pressed against me, my hand drifting along her back, only wanting to offer comfort. I need her to realize she’s not in this alone anymore.

“The last thing you are is a joke. And if you’re ready for a new challenge, then that’s exactly what you focus on.”

Her breath catches.

“You’re so much more than what people think. And you’re talented enough to do anything you want, Chey. Broadway included.”

When she squeezes her eyes tight, my fingers slip beneath her chin, tipping her face upward until I can brush my mouth against hers. I want her to feel everything I’m not saying. Everything I probably shouldn’t be feeling so quickly.

She shifts, straddling my body until my cock can slide deep inside her with one smooth stroke.

This time there’s no rush or teasing. No desperate need to prove anything. It’s softer and slower. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize this is probably what making love is supposed to feel like.

My mouth drifts over her shoulder, neck, and collarbone. I take my time, wanting to learn everything about her. The way she breathes. What makes her shiver. The way her hands hold on to me like she doesn’t want to let go.

I don’t want her to let go either.

Not ever.

But that’s not my choice to make.

So I show her instead. I touch her in a way I hope conveys just how much she means to me. We move together as if we’ve done this a hundred times before, the rhythm steady. It’s nothing like the breathless urgency of last night.

This is something else entirely. And it matters more than anything else ever has.

Even more than hockey.

By the time we find our release, I know this is it for me. There will never be another woman like Chey. She collapses against my chest, breathing hard, and I hold her there, my hand sliding over her back as her body relaxes against mine, as if she’s always belonged there.

All I can do is hope like hell that’s true.

37

Cheyenne

I stand in the waiting area of the theater, clutching the sides of my purse a little tighter than necessary while glancing around, hoping it’s not obvious that my heart is on the verge of pounding right out of my chest.

Knox insisted on being here for moral support. Even though he couldn’t come back with me, knowing he’s only a few hundred feet away helps.

There are at least twenty people here for the audition.

Maybe more.

Some are stretching near the wall as they quietly run lines. Others sit with their heads down, headphones in, eyes closed, as if trying to shut out the rest of the world. A couple are marking choreography in the corner, counting to themselves as their feet slide over the scuffed floor.

No one looks like they wandered in on a whim.

They look as though they belong here.

Like professionals.

My stomach twists at that thought.

Okay. This is fine.

Totally fine.

I can do this.