Page 87 of Ice Cold Hearts
I laugh and lower the brush. “I’m not sure what good this would have done me, anyway.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You looked pretty formidable to me. I was a little afraid of you, honestly.”
I snort. “You’re lying.”
“Through my teeth.” He grins. “But jokes aside, are you all right?”
Look at that, another opportunity. Stop being a coward and do it.
I take a deep breath and start, “I never told any of you who Audrey’s father is, and it’s been driving me insane with guilt. I have to tell you who he is, but every time I try, something comes up or I get scared and anxious then back out. It’s so important for you to know, and I just…”
My lip trembles, and I think I’m crying, but I can’t tell if it’s tears or just the water from the shower.
He steps into the shower with me and holds me close.
“It doesn’t matter who her father is.” Oliver strokes my hair. “Clearly, he’s an idiot if he let you and that sweet little girl get away. We’re here for both of you now. Emily, I know Alexei told you how he feels, and I heard what Ian whispered to you right before he fell asleep.”
“Oliver, don’t,” I plead.
“I know you haven’t said anything to us about how you feel. This has been a bit of a whirlwind of a relationship, and it’s okay that you haven’t and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way yet. Emily, I would wait forever for you.” Oliver pulls away and tips my chin up to look at him. “Even if you only ever see me as an easy lay or just a fun relationship to pass the time, I won’t care as long as I get to be next to you. I don’t know how Audrey’s father hurt you, and I hope one day you’ll tell me, but even if you don’t, I will spend every day showing you that better men exist in this world because I love you. I love you more than I love the feel of my skates on fresh ice, more than a sunrise, more than the first bite of a cookie straight out of the oven, more than, I don’t know, anything. This is probably the most ridiculous declaration anyone has ever made, but I needed you to know.”
“I—”
“You don’t have to tell me anything right now. Please, just let me…” He gestures vaguely at my body.
My resolve crumbles at the vulnerability in his face. The only thing keeping me from being ashamed of backing out again is the fact that he asked me to wait, but it does nothing to ease my guilt.
“Well…” I shrug. “I hadn’t planned on washing my hair tonight since it’s kind of a pain, but if you’re willing to help?”
“I can do that.” He smiles. “Turn around.”
I spin away from him and step back under the showerhead. Oliver’s hands skillfully work the shampoo through my hair. I sigh, leaning into his touch.
“You know, if this hockey thing doesn’t work out, you could have a very lucrative career as a masseuse,” I say.
“So you’d be completely fine with me rubbing down mostly nude women on a daily basis?” he muses. “Interesting.”
I scowl at the shower wall as jealousy overtakes me. “Male clients only. Hideous, grumpy men who reek of garlic and toe cheese.”
He laughs. “I don’t think I’d get much business, then. Guess I should stick to hockey.”
“I think that’s the right choice,” I tease. “The only naked woman you get to rub down is me.”
“And am I going to get to?” Oliver asks. “Rub you down, I mean?”
“Hmm…” I pretend to mull it over. “I might let you once you get all the shampoo out of my hair.”
He snorts. “How generous of you.”
“It is, isn’t it,” I say haughtily.
“Brat,” he says, tugging my hair.
My back arches, and I press my ass against him.
“I was going to ask if you could handle that again so soon after this evening, but I guess I shouldn’t have worried,” I say huskily.
“I’m always ready for you, Kitten,” he says, nipping my shoulder.