“Why don’t I grab you something to sleep in? There should be a brand-new toothbrush in the bathroom—and anything else you might need.”

“Okay. That would be great. Thank you, RJ.”

“It’s no problem.”

She slides off the bed and pads over to the bathroom. I head back to my room, unsurprised that she’ll be sleeping in the room next to mine instead of with me. And if I’m totally honest with myself, I’m actually kind of glad, even if other parts of my body aren’t in agreement. Now that I think about it, it’s nice to get to know someone before jumping into bed with them. Make a connection in more than just the physical sense.

I think that’s probably what I’ve missed the most since I started playing professional hockey. Don’t get me wrong—I had my fair share of fun. And I tried to date a few women, but most of them thought they already knew me, so dates started on uneven footing. When I didn’t match the idea they had of me, it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Much like the lie I told her about my job. I should’ve just been straight with her, but then maybe she would look at me differently. I decide I’ll tell her the truth . . . when she’s a little more comfortable around me and the time feels right.

Once I’m in my room, I rearrange my hard-on into a more comfortable position and give it a pat. “Patience, little man. This one will be worth the wait.” I roll my eyes at myself, feeling like an idiot for talking to my dick.

I open my dresser, riffling through my T-shirts until I find a plain white one. I also grab a pair of boxer shorts for her, although I have a feeling they’ll be way too big. She’s still in the bathroom, so I leave the shirt and boxers on the bed and go back downstairs so I can get us each a glass of water, set up the coffee maker for the morning, and turn off all the lights.

By the time I come back upstairs, she’s already changed into my T-shirt. Her back is to me, so I have a moment to observe her. The hem hits her mid-thigh, showing off her lean legs. She bends over and pulls the comforter back, exposing the flannel sheets.

I clear my throat, and she jumps.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I brought you a glass of water.” I cross the room and set it on the nightstand.

“Oh, thank you, that was thoughtful.”

“You have everything you need?” I ask, wishing she weren’t so nervous around me and that our make-out session hadn’t brought with it an awkwardness to our interactions.

“Yup. All set. And thank you for this.” She tugs at the sleeve, which almost reaches her elbow.

My gaze drops and catches on her chest, where her nipples pop against the white fabric. I drag my eyes back up to her face. “No problem.” I have to clear the frog out of my throat. “I’m not sure if you’re an early riser, but the coffee is ready to go, so if you’re up before me, just make yourself at home.”

“Okay.” She takes a tentative step forward and wraps her arms around me. I return the hug but try to keep everything below the waist from making contact with any part of her.

I wait for her to let me go before I slip a single finger under her chin and press a chaste kiss to her minty, soft lips. “Night, Lainey.”

“Night, RJ.”

CHAPTER 7

MORNING AFTER

Lainey

I sleep for almost ten blissful hours. I could probably lie in this bed forever, but it’s after ten, and I can hear RJ downstairs in the kitchen.

I roll out of bed and pad across the floor to the bathroom. Once I get an eyeful of my hair, I decide it would be best to indulge in a shower before I go downstairs, especially since my cabin lacks hot water. While I enjoy the perks of a functioning hot-water tank, I replay that kiss—make-out session—from last night over and over in my head. I wonder if he’ll kiss me like that again before I leave. I hope so.

I don’t have a choice but to put back on my clothes from yesterday once I’m done, but at least I’m clean and warm. I’m nervous all over again, unsure how not to be awkward as I head downstairs. I plan to thank him for being so hospitable, and then I’ll head back to my cabin. RJ is in the kitchen, pushing something around in a frying pan. He’s wearing a pair of low-slung sweatpants and a white T-shirt that pulls tight across his back. All my words disappear as I watch his muscles flex under the cotton. I would like to be that cotton.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” RJ gives me that smile that seems to make my brain short out for a moment.

“I slept great, thank you. I’m sorry it’s so late. Those blinds keep out all the light, don’t they?” My sweater is hanging over the back of the chair, so I pick it up. “I should probably be going.”

“Or you could stay for breakfast,” RJ suggests.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that—I’ve already overstayed my welcome. I’m sure you have a busy day.” I pull the sweater over my head, even though I’m already hot. If I go now, maybe I’ll get that goodbye kiss I’m hoping for.

RJ props a hip against the counter. “Actually, my day is wide open. I mean, there’s a chance I’ll go fishing at some point, but otherwise I’m totally free. Do you have plans?”

“Uh, no, no plans.”

“So you can stay? Have breakfast with me, and then maybe—if you’re feeling up to it—we could go to town, or whatever you want, really.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.” Staying means no goodbye kiss, but maybe we can spend some of the day with our lips against each other’s.

“You’re not imposing at all, Lainey. I’m happy you’re here, and to be honest, I’m still looking for any excuse I can find to spend more time with you.”

“Well, in that case, breakfast sounds great. What can I do to help?” And just like that, the awkwardness is gone.

RJ pours me a coffee. “You drink this, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

I add a little sugar and cream, stir, test, and repeat until it’s perfect. “This coffee is amazing.”

“You sure you got the cream-to-sugar ratio right?” RJ asks.

“Are you making fun of me?”

He holds his thumb and finger close together. “Maybe a little.”

“Too much cream and sugar ruins coffee. I err on the side of caution.” I poke his chest.

RJ wraps his arms around me, pulling me up against him. It looks like that kiss I was hoping for is going to happen a lot sooner than I anticipated. He drops his head, and our lips meet and part, tongues stroking in a wet, velvet caress.

I try not to get carried away like I did last night, but kissing RJ is like eating birthday cake. Once I start, I can’t seem to stop. I run my hands over his chest and grip the back of his neck to keep them from wandering too much. RJ’s hands move in the opposite direction, and he palms my bottom, pulling me closer.

With his free hand, RJ shoves aside whatever’s on the counter and knocks the cutting board into the sink with a loud crash. We break apart for a second to check the damage, but everything seems fine.

RJ turns his attention back to me, lifting me onto the counter. “God, I love your mouth.”

“Every time you kiss me, I feel like I’ve just consumed a gallon of coffee spiked with alcohol,” I tell him.