I heard the footsteps; they were coming toward me. With my eyes shut tight, I didn’t have to see him. I didn’t feel for him. I didn’t want to know what the matter was and how I could help. Iwasn’tgoing to care.
With my eyes closed, I could hate him again.
He was now inches from me, I could almost feel his breath. He pulled on my hand gently and placed the keys in my palm and clasped my fingers around them. His warm hand held mine a moment longer.
The tears that were the result of an exhausting and confusing week with him escaped my eyes one drop after another and I kept my eyes closed.
He thumbed one away. Then another and spoke softly. “You have your keys. But I’m not leaving you alone.”
I swallowed, my head leaned back against the wall as a tear slid down my neck. Troy swiped it upward with the back of his fingers. “You can keep your eyes closed as long as you want, but I promise you, you’re safe.” He swiped again, but there were no tears.
“Harper.”
The desperate tone made me open my eyes. He held them for a moment before leaning forward, kissing the wet stain on my chin.
His lips—God how I wanted them on me again since that night at the bar. Holding still, I let his lips trace up my jaw. When my traitorous head turned slightly toward him, he moved into me, gliding his hands up my neck before pressing his lips to mine. His kiss was deep, desperate, exploring as he parted my mouth with his tongue, taking my breath away. A small whimper escaped before I could stop it. I felt every bit of his longing, like he wanted to taste every last drop before coming up for air.
Why here? Why now?
He released me gently, pulling back.
I opened my eyes, but a breath was caught in my throat and I could barely speak. All I wanted to do was cry because that kiss was so gratifying and painful at the same time.
I fought the tears of pure confusion but the mist was impossible to hide when I looked up at him. My expression could be no better interpreted than angry, but I didn’t have the voice for it.
Whatever this other side to him was, it was a lie. And he would only end up hurting me again.
His eyes dropped to my lips before speaking softly. “Nothing was ever mine.”
Looking down, he slipped the keys back into his hand and removed his suit jacket, resting it around my shoulders. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
“Are we good?” Nic asked on Saturday morning during our weekly trip to the grocery store together.
“Of course. Why?
“I thought you’re still mad over the sketch,” she said tentatively. Which was unlike Nic. She was always overconfident about everything she did.
I released a breath. “No. He didn’t seem to mind as much as I thought he would. So, that’s a relief.”
She laughed. “What did you think he was going to do? Press charges for drawing a picture of him?”
“I don’t know…it’s kind of invasive, isn’t it?”
“The guy is a famous pro hockey player. I’m pretty sure he signed up for this.”
I bit my lip. Troy had seemed to be rather appreciative of it than violated.
“I saw he followed you out on Wednesday night after your shift. Frankie said he saw you at the game. You get any action?”
I shook my head and focused on the crates of groceries. “I left my sketchbook in the car with all my other stuff.”
“I meant from the star player himself?”
As badly as I wanted to, I knew what telling Nic about the kiss meant. It would mean I’d have to tell her how much I liked it. The aggressive, possessive strokes and swipes of his tongue. The way his body moved into me, holding me like he’d wanted to do this for so long. The way he cupped my face and studied it, like he treasured it, never intending on taking it for granted.
It took the good part of the rest of my week to finally be able to close my eyes and not see the hurt look on his face and tenderness that radiated from him when I told him I didn’t feel safe with him. As if I’d hit something I didn’t know was there. A protectiveness toward me. A soft spot.
Hard to believe Troy Hartman was capable of one.
