Page 157 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

“Okay,” I say, utterly unfazed. She watches as I toe off my shoes and then shed my jacket.

“That’s it? Okay?”

“Darlin’, I spend half the year sharing hotel rooms with dudes. I promise you, no matter how loudly you snore, it can’t be louder than Rett.”

She snickers.

“Bea’s told you about it?” I surmise.

“She may have mentioned.”

“Well, I manage to sleep through him most of the time, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She watches as I strip my shirt off and then stalk toward her bathroom, topless. “Where can I find this toothbrush?”

“Cupboard under the sink.”

I kick the door closed, but more for her benefit than mine. I’m more than happy for her to watch—I’m pretty sure I’ve already proven that. But I want her to feel comfortable, and if that means I miss her stripping my jersey off in favor of her pajamas, then so be it.

Once I’ve cleaned my teeth, I take a piss and then pull the door open and poke my head out. The bedroom is empty, but I discover why a few seconds later when Sienna walks in wearing nothing but a tank—no bra—and a tiny pair of sleep shorts, with two bottles of water in hand.

I swallow thickly and force my eyes up from staring at the way her nipples pebble against the thin fabric of her tank.

“You sleep like that every night?” I ask, my voice raspy with need.

“Mostly, yeah,” she agrees as she sets a bottle down on each nightstand before moving closer. “You finished in there?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, shifting out of her way.

“I’ve got a whole skincare routine, but I’ll try and speed it up,” she confesses. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Capturing her hand, I bring her knuckles to my lips. “Don’t rush on my account. I’m not going anywhere.”

With a smile that only makes my blood run hotter, I let her slip into the room and close the door behind her.

Dropping my slacks, I crawl into her bed, reveling in the fact that the sheets smell just as sweet as she does.

I get settled before unlocking my cell to scroll through the scores from the rest of tonight’s games, before browsing through a few hockey blogs I follow.

I’m lost in trade conspiracies when the bathroom door finally opens, revealing a fresh-faced Sienna.

She freezes the second she sees me in her bed, the sheets resting around my waist.

I smirk at her. “Everything okay?”

“You look…you look a little bit too good in my bed,” she blurts.

“Not so good you’re considering kicking me out, I hope?”

“Hell no. There’s no risk of that happening.”

Abandoning my cell, I pull the sheets back for her, and only a few seconds later, she slides in beside me.

I sink lower, allowing her to curl up with her head on my chest.

“What were you reading?”

“Hockey stuff,” I mutter.

“You can keep reading,” she offers sleepily.