Page 85 of Filthy Player
“What?”
“Yeah, so you want to walk out of here and be pissed at me for taking care of what’s mine? You want to slam that door in my face again after all I’ve shown you about the man I am and how much you mean to me? Go right ahead.” He flipped his hand out toward his bedroom.
Toward the door.
And I knew he meant his front door. Literally and figuratively.
It wasn’t what I wanted. At all.
I shook my head. “Beaux—”
“But you gotta know one thing.” He stepped in front of me, eating the space between us in one large stride, and glared down at me. “I love you, Paige. I’m so fucking in love with you I can’t see straight half the time, and even when I’m on the field, I’m thinking of you. No one has ever distracted me from the game. I can stand in front of you, right now, flat out giving you everything I have, all of me.” He punctuated his chest and his statement with his finger. “And I can tell you I don’t give a shit. For the first time in my life, I’ve found something, someone, I want more than football. I know you feel it too. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me. I want to hear it.”
I opened my mouth. Shut it.
“And don’t lie to me,” he said, leaning down and bracing himself on the counter next to me. He caged me in, the heat of his anger and frustration rolling off him. Good God. People shouldn’t be this pissed off when they’re admitting they love someone. And was that what he’d done? I was having trouble thinking straight.
“Beaux—”
“I know you love me.” His gaze was knowing. Hot. Angry and filled with something else that looked like a mixture of wanting to scoop me up and throw me on his bed or choke the breath out of me.
And God. He knew.
He had heard me last night.
All the fight left me in a forceful rush of breath. “I don’t like not being able to take care of him. I hate it. Hate it with every fiber of my being and I hate having to lean on people for it.”
“That’s what people do when they love one another. It’s not a list to keep track of, Paige. I give to you when I can, and you give to me when you can. It’s us, leaning on each other, and trust me, babe, you don’t give to me in money, but you give yourself and that’s all I need.”
His arms surrounded me tightly, no hesitation, he just pulled me into his body and held me while I whispered apologies.
He was so warm. So damn safe and strong.
And he was right. I loved him. Definitely. I’d still been keeping him at a distance, letting him close to me while keeping one hand out, firmly in place, so he didn’t get too close.
I had to drop the hand and let him walk all the way in, or this was never going to work.
I could keep him out and lose him. Or let him in and have something better than anything I’d ever imagined.
Vulnerability sucked, but it was the only choice.
I sniffed, fought back tears and pushed against his stomach. His hand was at my head and he gave me space, but not much.
“You have my word, right now, I won’t make decisions like that without your input, but you can’t ask me not to help someone when I can, Paige. It’s not in me to avoid that when I have so damn much to give.”
“I know.” I sniffed again. With tears blurring my vision, I gazed at him. So damn strong. “I wasn’t thinking of running. I just like space when I’m upset so I don’t say something stupid and regret it.”
He arched a brow but stayed silent.
“And sometimes,” I said, chuckling. “I still do. I would have gotten over it, I would have put all the pieces together you said, but sometimes I need to go through all the emotions before I get to the logic.”
His steel blue eyes flickered back and forth between mine and then his hands slid to my cheeks. “Don’t run from me when you’re pissed. Let it out. I’d rather argue about it than watch you flee from me. Okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“Now tell me what I want to hear.”
My heart stalled and everything inside me cooled. “Beaux—”
