Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
I don’t say the unspoken words.
Maybe I’ll be a part of a family.
I swallow the biggest lump, and Ben’s thumb moves in soft circles against my knuckles. Until he’s holding my hand. Lacing our fingers.
“That’s why you want to be a doctor,” he realizes.
“It was the first initial reason. Then I fell in love with medicine, so I have more reasons now.” I unlace our hands, just to pull off my beaded bracelets. “What about you and hockey?”
“Me and hockey?” He’s watching me slip the bracelets onto his wrist.
“Yeah. If it’s taken this long to even try out, then…do you even like playing?”
Ben scratches the back of his head, then slumps a little against the pillow mound. I follow suit. Our heads turn to each other as he says, “I think I hate it.”
My brows catapult, not expecting that. “Hate is a strong word, Friend.”
He reaches over, grabs his blue water bottle, takes a hearty swig, then offers it to me. I take small sips, listening.
“The aggressive part of hockey, I never disliked. There’ve been times where I think I need it. Until the last three years…I guess I just started hating the brutality,” he breathes out. “I’d try to skate around the body slams, but I was a target during every game I played. And if I didn’t want to keep getting concussions, then I needed to defend myself.” He rubs at the little beauty mark on his cheek. “I’ve knocked out teeth on four different guys, Harriet. I’ve laid even more out on the ice. I hate causing physical harm to people, and I know it seems ridiculous after what I did to Tate…but there’s enough suffering in the world, I just don’t want to contribute to it.” His eyes redden as he stares at the bracelets. “It fucking tears me up every time I do.”
“Then why even try out?”
“I love the feeling of being on the ice. Of flying toward the net. Like nothing can catch me. I imagine maybe it’s what birds feel like in the air.” He scrapes his tongue over his molars in thought. “And I love helping my team win. I love feeling like I excel at something like Cobalts are known to do. But the past few years, the hate has drowned the love. Now I think I’m just trying out for Coach Haddock. He’s a good guy, and I don’t want to let him down too hard.”
Ben has a really big heart. I can see why his brothers might fear someone hurting him. I feel more protective of his heart too. Especially since it feels like he keeps giving it to me.
“I’m glad you’re trying out,” I tell him. “You’ll get that last time to feel like a bird. Be all Nelly Furtado on the ice.”
He laughs hard. His face is one beautiful smile. “You aren’t worried I might fly away?”
It hurts a little, even knowing he’s teasing. “Oh no, I am very worried.” I try to joke back. It comes off more serious than I intended.
“Don’t be,” he says softly. “Everything’s going to turn out okay, Friend.”
“What if you get third-degree sunburn? Or a splinter that causes a bacterial infection? You could accidentally chop off your hand—”
“That’s not going to happen,” he laughs.
“Have you ever swung an axe before?”
“Yeah.”
“And chopped wood?”
“Yes,” he says like it’s not hard and common practice. Now I’m picturing outdoorsy Ben. Which has to be one of his natural states of mind, considering he loves the earth. Being stuck in the city isn’t where he’s meant to be.
All birds need to be set free, I realize, and maybe convincing him to stay would be like trapping a wild creature.
I tuck myself more to his side. Trying to be okay with his plan.
He cups the side of my head and scrunches my hair a few times. It’s so effortlessly comforting. I’m drawn to him. To his energy and affection, and there’s a sudden urge to want more. To be consumed by Ben Cobalt.
I look up at him.
He looks down. The electrical charge between us pumps my blood. It’s paddles to my heart. On impulse, I slide my leg over his waist and roll onto his lap.
My palms meet the back of his warm neck, and his large hands fall to the soft divots of my hips.
Ben drinks in my bare thighs around him, and I run my fingers over the ridges of his abs. I can feel his dick hardening against me as his gaze fixes back on mine.
“Harriet,” he breathes out a knotted breath of arousal. “We can’t do this.”
“Because we’re friends? Or because we’re in the living room?”
“Neither.” He rolls me off him so easily—as if I weigh nothing. My head sinks into the soft pillow. He sits up and watches me scowl at him. He smiles when he says, “Glare at me all you want, but it’s not happening.”