Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,72
to think so.
“Complaint lodged! This girl needs her sleep.”
“Understood. You have what you want, now I’m no longer of use.”
She coasted her hand over his chest. “I wouldn’t say that. I can think of plenty of uses for you.”
“Dis-moi.”
Her body gave a little shiver and he leaned over to kiss the tattoo cuffing her upper arm. A Thai peace symbol, she had said.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means ‘tell me.’ Tell me about all the ways I can be of service.”
She considered it for a moment. “Other than the obvious orgasm provision, I’m thinking coffee-making, hot-tub preparation, smoothie-blending—but without the kale, please, because ugh—and foot rub-giving. Got any of that on your resume?”
“Tout ça et plus.”
“Which means?”
“All that and more.” He pulled her close, his hand smoothing over the scars on the side of her body. She had them on her leg as well and an urge to know more, to know everything, rose up in him swift and sharp.
“What happened here?”
She didn’t shut him down like before, possibly because pillow talk lent itself to a naked vulnerability. “A house fire when I was fifteen. My parents died and that’s when I went to live with Edie.”
He gently skimmed the hurt with his fingertips. “I’m so sorry, ma belle.”
“Thank you. I won’t deny it had a huge effect on me. Losing your parents is hard under any circumstances but as a teen, it really crushes you. I went through therapy, took some time for self-care. I’m not really a suffer-in-silence kind of person.”
Like him. Was that what she meant?
Not always about you, dummy.
Given her loss, her independent nature was completely understandable. Admirable, even. But she didn’t need to do it solo. She had teased him about his self-denial and about going easier on himself. Yet here was Kennedy pulling the lone-wolf act for which Reid was famous.
Words weren’t his strong point but he had other ways.
“I told you once I would hold you whenever you needed it. You don’t even have to ask.”
With shining eyes, she nodded and let him take charge of the cuddle.
“All those things I said I could do,” he said against her temple. “Coffee, hot tubs, smoothies, foot rubs?”
“And orgasms,” she whispered.
“And orgasms. Those things are just the beginning.” He whispered a few more skills on his resume, ones that were hers for the taking. “Mon corps pour vous garder au chaud. Mes bras pour vous garder en sécurité. Mon cœur pour te garder ancré.”
My body to keep you warm.
My arms to keep you safe.
My heart to keep you anchored.
That same heart thudded wildly, recognizing the importance of this moment. He was falling for a woman who had said she couldn’t stay, but maybe he could convince her. Maybe he could bone up on the resume needed to keep a woman like Kennedy in his life.
“What does that mean?”
“Just some nonsense.”
Bucky bounded into the bedroom and jumped on the bed.
“Bucky!” Kennedy said with a laugh that broke the tension. “You shouldn’t do that. You’re a terrible advertisement for my services.”
“He needs to go out.” Reid kissed Kennedy’s forehead. “I’ll take him and get the coffee started.
“Come on, boy, do your thing.”
Bucky sniffed a patch of tree bark and decided it wasn’t worthy of his efforts. So fickle.
Reid’s phone rang and he steeled himself for a call from Henri. Surprised, he saw it was Coach Calhoun. Shit. He hadn’t said much after Reid’s performance last night, but obviously he preferred to do his bawl-outs in private, which was better than the Henri way, Reid supposed.
He answered. “Coach.”
“Durand. So how are you this morning?”
“Disappointed.” He was, about the game, but he couldn’t claim disappointment about anything that had occurred in the aftermath. With Kennedy, hockey’s importance—his reason for being on this earth, he had thought—diminished, a conclusion that shocked him and would never pass his lips. “I’m sorry about last night.”
His body tensed, waiting for the harsh critique he deserved.
“So you didn’t play to your potential. That happens. Not everyone can be on at every minute.”
“But you put your faith in me and I let you down—”
“Reid, listen to me. I’m a hard-ass, but hell, no one is harder on you than you are on yourself. It was your first shot at center in prime time. Did you think it would click just like that? Foreman and Petrov have history and are in tune with each other. But you’re the linchpin on that line. You’ve got to get in sync with both of them. It’ll just take