Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(68)

“That never gets old.” I smirk and push my hair back and out of my face as the water falls directly on top of me. Gripping her waist, I take a step back, pulling her under the water, savoring the moment her eyes flutter shut when the warmth runs over her goosebump covered skin. The way her features relax makes me smile, and I find myself counting the freckles that splatter across her pale skin like the softest brown paint flicked from a brush.

Two, ten, fifteen. Moving from her hairline, down her small, button nose, to the tiny triangle above her top lip. I lose count of them the second her eyes open, transfixed on me in a way that has my breath catching.

“Stop staring at me,” she murmurs, her peach-toned lips twitching at the corners.

“I like looking at you.” Her gaze falls to the water beneath our feet and I raise my brow. “That surprises you?” It shouldn’t, and if it does, I’ve clearly been doing a shit job of making her feel as good about herself as I thought I was. The thought of her doubting how phenomenal she is has anger bleeding into my veins.

“No,” she rushes, but her stiffening posture says the opposite. With a shake of my head I have my finger under her chin, tilting her head up.

“Look at me,” I plead. She swallows quickly but does as I say. “You’re stunning. I don’t know how you don’t already know that. I’m sure you hear it all the time. And I have no idea how you ended up with me.”

When she doesn’t reply, I feel my stomach start to churn. Maybe that isn’t what she wanted to hear? Fucking shit. My lips roll and I pull back into myself, wanting to hit my head against the shower wall.

“Braden,” she calls quietly, attempting to reel me back in when I let my hands fall to my sides. With what little confidence I have left, I nod and open my mouth to take back my words, but her lips are on mine before I have the chance.

With wide eyes, I watch as her hand moves to cup my face. Her touch is gentle, almost impossible to feel as her palm presses against my stubble covered jaw. I don’t have the chance to relax and kiss her back before she’s pulling back, her eyes full of something warm and heavy.

“I have heard it before. Just not from you.”





I continue to drag my nails up and down Sierra’s back as she rests her head on my chest and a flat palm near my collarbone. Her body curves into mine like it belongs there, like it was made to fit mine. It’s a ridiculous thought, but one that I think about anyway as the silence wraps around us. She’s much calmer than she was a few hours prior, and I find myself finally able to relax.

I’m not sure what exactly happened in that shower, but I have to admit that I feel pretty good about it. What I don’t feel good about is what happened earlier—when I picked up my phone only to hear her heart-wrenching cries and how broken she looked when I finally got to her.

I expected the worst. The entire drive to that fucking building, I was preparing myself to find her in a state that would test me in ways that I’ve never been tested before. The imprints of my fingernails in my scalp are probably still there, forever scarred from the aggressiveness of each hand I ran through it, of every clump yanked out of worry. I knew that I would have done anything she asked me to right then. There wasn’t a single unforgivable crime that I wouldn’t have committed for her.

But then I saw her there, not a scratch on her body, and felt my heart stop. Somehow, knowing the damage was invisible was worse than anything I had prepared myself for. With no injury, there was no easy way that I could have patched her up. The damage was inside, damaging her beautiful soul. I had never felt as helpless as I did right then, with her in my arms, clutching onto me just as tightly as I was clutching onto her.

Cole Travis painted a bullseye on his own back. And I plan on being the one that takes the shot at it.

“You awake?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet incase she’s passed out on me. She needs to sleep, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if she had.

“Mm,” she moans, rubbing her cheek against my peck.

I hate that I’m about to poke and prod at something that I should leave alone so that she can rest, but if I don’t get more information soon, I think I’m going to damn near explode. “You wouldn’t happen to want to tell me more about what happened earlier, would you? I’m going out of my head here.”

“No. I’m sleepy.”

“Sierra,” I sigh, wrapping my arm securely around her waist and tugging her so her stomach is pressed flat to my side, eliminating all distance between us. “At least give me something.”

“Fine,” she mumbles. “Work sucks. Are you happy now? Can I go to bed?”

I pinch her side. “No. Not good enough. What was the promotion you got? Why do you feel like you didn’t earn it? Is it that much of a career boost?”

My muscles tense as the idea of her being anywhere near her boss after this takes flight. I don’t notice that my grip on her side has tightened until she gently peels away my fingers.

“Relax, Scrappy.” She pushes out a laugh and drops my now relaxed hand back on her waist. “It’s pretty much what I’ve been working for since I graduated. It’s not my end goal, but it’s a giant step in the right direction. They offered me a marketing manager position, which is what I was close to earning at my old job. But I was there for three years. Yeah, it was a harder company to work for and I didn’t have half of the opportunities that I’ve been given here, but maybe that was the first red flag that I missed.