Caged (Gold Hockey Book 11) by Elise Faber (romantic love story reading TXT) 📕

Then she smiled again, wider this time, but it was missing all the warmth, all the delight from before.

“What is it?” he asked, knowing this was one of those things that time hadn’t yet granted him the opportunity to learn.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, fingers gripping his hair. “Kiss me.”

An order.

One he obliged, slanting his mouth across hers, absorbing the wonder of this woman and how she tasted, how she felt, how she made everything inside him realign in a completely different way. But even as he kissed her, he shifted them to the side, tugging her so she was cradled against his chest when they broke apart for air. He couldn’t stop himself from running his hand up and down her spine, bit back a groan when she slipped her palm between them, trailing warm fingers along his abdomen.

“Why’d you stop?” she murmured.

“What did I say?” he asked. “That hurt you?”

“Nothing.” She smiled again, pressed her mouth to his, kissing him deeply, until his lungs were straining for air, until his cock was aching, his fingers trembling, desire hazing his vision, turning the edges red. Until he was wondering why in the fuck he was pushing this, why he wasn’t just getting back to the tumbling and kissing and licking every single inch of her part.

But . . . he needed to know why she’d gotten sad.

Because he didn’t want to be the one who hurt her. Not ever.

“Dani,” he whispered, tearing his lips from hears.

She sighed, closed her eyes. “Please, Ethan.”

That please almost broke him. It was just . . . he had to do the right thing here, had to be himself, and he wasn’t the type of guy who pretended to not know the truth, who dismissed it just because he had a boner, and it would be easier not to talk about it.

Did he want her? Fuck yes.

Did he want her pain between them when he had her? No.

He didn’t want that coloring their interactions, her pleasure, their time together in each other’s arms.

She meant more than a quick fuck.

She meant everything.

It was as simple as that.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Tell me, sweetheart.”

Her chin dropped to her chest. “Why can’t you just take advantage of the half-naked woman in your arms?”

He stroked a hand over her hair, told her the truth. “Because I don’t want to take advantage of you. Ever.” Fingers under her chin, drawing it up so that her gaze was on his. “And I want to know you. Even the sad pieces. The hurt and broken. Give them to me. Let me help you put them back together.”

Lips parting, a shaking sigh coating his skin. She shifted closer, her mouth a hairsbreadth from his. “You’re not taking advantage of me.”

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not.” But there it was again, the falter. The hint of pain.

“Yet,” he said gently, cupping her cheek. “That’s the part you’re not saying, isn’t it? I haven’t hurt you yet.”

She went still and then sighed again, caution edging into her expression. “Should I remind you that I’m still half-naked and waiting for you to do the whole kissing every inch of me part?”

“I want to,” he said. Fuck, he wanted to.

“But . . .” she whispered after he didn’t say anything else.

“But . . .”

He needed her to tell him every detail of her past? Fuck, that made him an even bigger asshole than spending the last minutes ignoring the lusciousness of her curves and the blatant invitation in her words, her eyes. She’d already shared so much, and besides that, she didn’t owe him an explanation of her past, not even because she’d offered up her body, allowed him close, had gone on a date with him, had told him what had happened in high school.

The truth was that she didn’t owe him anything. Period.

And frankly, he hadn’t earned enough of her trust to expect anything.

He had to believe that they would get there, that he’d unlock her inner core with patience and perseverance. She’d already given him so much in the short time they’d been together. “But, nothing,” he said gently. “I’ll be here, ears available for when you’re ready to tell me.”

Still.

Dani could go so perfectly still. Like a beautiful statue rather than a living, breathing woman. Of course, she was a statue with a stare that bored into him. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, brushing the backs of his knuckles over her throat.

She unfroze, her hands coming to his cheeks, a blip of pain trailing across her face. It was gone in an instant, and then her mouth was back on his.

“Charmer,” she whispered.

“Truth,” he whispered back.

Chapter Nineteen

Dani

Truth.

He’d just whispered the word like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Even though it wasn’t true, couldn’t be true.

Despite the progress she’d made, she knew she wasn’t beautiful, and most of the time she certainly didn’t feel beautiful on the inside or the out. She was just Dani, just a woman, who’d been so fucking lonely and scared and filled with shards of broken glass and twisted memories that she hadn’t been living—

She was half-naked, and Ethan was holding her.

She’d gone on a date, had talked to him like a woman talked to a man, hadn’t panicked—or not much anyway.

And perhaps it wouldn’t seem like a lot to other people, perhaps it was the smallest baby step to the outside world. But to her . . .

She’d taken a giant leap forward.

So she was going to damned well go with that.

She brushed her tongue along the seam of his mouth, dipping it inside when he parted his lips, tangling it with his. His groan sent tingles through her nerves, dipped down between her thighs.

He rolled them again, pressing her down into the mattress, his body heavy and hard. His hand slid down her side, cupping her hip, slipping beneath her leggings to take one globe of