She propped herself up on her elbow, jerking a chin toward the box of condoms that sat on the bedside table. “You definitely didn’t buy those between when I attacked you in the bar and when we got up here. Ergo, you were prepared.”
I huffed out a breath and shook my head. “Joke from some buddies. They find a way to sneak them into my room anytime I travel. Usually, I just toss them.”
She raised a brow at me, skepticism written on her face. “But not tonight.”
“Not tonight,” I agreed, darting my eyes over her face—to those glass-green eyes and those full lips and the dusting of freckles that were, somehow, making my dick hard all over again.
“Well, I’d hate to waste them.” She flashed me a smile. “How long did you say we had?”
I glanced at the clock. “Down to twelve.”
“How about I add an extra eight? What can you do in twenty?”
“Oh, trouble.” I gripped her waist and tugged her to sit astride me, her hands braced on my chest, those perfect little tits just begging for my mouth. And I intended to deliver. “You’re going to be sorry you asked that.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ATLAS
Early mornings weren’tunusual for me. Even if I wasn’t waking up to hit the gym before heading to the school, my internal alarm clock went off at five a.m. without fail. The years I’d spent in the league, when my days began before dawn, had trained my system.
Normally, it wasn’t a problem. But normally, I hadn’t had trouble in the form of a dark-haired vixen in my bed the night before.
She’d stayed true to her word, leaving my room just over an hour after she’d arrived. But even with our brief time together, there was no denying she’d shaken my very foundation. My dreams had been filled with replays of our time together. I’d woken up hard as a fucking rock, humping the goddamn mattress like I was fifteen years old all over again.
Jerking off in the shower wasn’t anything new to me—it’d been my standard MO for years—but I did it more out of routine than necessity. That hadn’t been the case this morning. When I’d woken up, I could still smell her on my sheets, still taste her on my tongue. And as desperately as I wanted another round with her, this was for the better.
Just a single night of fun that didn’t have a hope of reaching me back home.
Getting on the road early meant I made it to Starlight Cove before ten and headed straight for my mom’s. I hadn’t heard anything more from my brothers, but time—and history—had proven that wasn’t always a good thing. In fact, it usually wasn’t.
After parking my SUV in her driveway, I strolled to the back door, pressed my thumb against the lock pad so it could read my print, and let myself in. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans greeted me, as did an absolute fucking catastrophe.
Standing at the back door, I braced my hands on my hips as I surveyed the disaster area formerly known as my mom’s kitchen. Buckets filled with various levels of water were everywhere, heaps of towels piled on the countertops. The cabinet doors below the sink hung open, the contents scattered on the floor.
I strode over, squatted to get a better look at the pipes, and clenched my jaw at what I found. Duct tape. Fuckingduct tape.
I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and thumbed a quick text into the group chat.
Group text with Atlas, Xander, Declan, and Lincoln
10:08 a.m.
Atlas:
Which of you dumbasses had the bright idea to use duct tape to “fix” mom’s problem?
Lincoln:
Don’t look at me. I was at the bar.
Declan:
Idk wtf you wanted me to do, Atlas. I’m not a fucking plumber.
Atlas:
Clearly. So when is the plumber coming?
