“Fuck!” he yells, jumping up. “Dammit, I didn’t think this through.”
“Well, she can clearly defend herself,” a player mutters.
“My stun gun is in my boot, so I’ll use my resources wisely,” I complain, twisting. “Miles, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not staying in your room.”
“I’m even more intrigued now.”
“Caelia, the team. Team, my very reluctant scent match,” he grumbles.
This situation is kind of funny since I’m hanging upside down, and it makes it difficult to be scared of him. Especially when he introduced me in a way.
“Well fuck me six ways to Sunday,” another player breathes.
“No thank you,” I reply, making Miles laugh out loud.
“Get some sleep,” he says, walking toward the elevators.
I can’t see Levon and Santo, which means they must have gone to their room already.
“Is it really going to bug you that much to sleep in my bed?” he asks, walking inside the elevator car and hitting the fourth floor button.
“Ah, I’ve never slept in anyone’s bed but my own,” I say. “I can walk, Miles.”
“I’m good,” he says. “If you run, I’ll chase you, and I’d prefer you to be snarky instead of scared of me.”
It’s a very honest statement and I blink as I struggle to figure out how I feel about that. My jeans are ripped at the thigh near his face and he rubs his cheek against it before he groans.
“You’re way too damn tempting, Caelia. You smell like a ripe treat, but I am a grown fucking man who can control myself,” he says, as if he needs to hear that.
“That’s good to hear…”
Blowing out a breath, he stalks out of the elevator as soon as the door opens.
“What are you wearing under these jeans? Shit, that sounded worse than it did in my head. What I meant was, I—” Miles may need to be rebooted.
“They’re tights but skin color with fleece on the inside,” I explain quickly before he can bury himself any deeper. “I’ve been really cold recently, and this is how I get around it.”
“Cold how?” he asks.
“I spend so much time at the rink, it seems to take forever for me to get warm after,” I say, happy to move the conversation away from my legs.
“You’re not producing enough heat,” Miles says. “Maybe you need a coat that heats from the inside. I have one, but it’ll swallow you up.”
He places me on my feet, and the blood rush is enough to make me grab a hold of his shirt as I sway. His corded arm wraps around my waist as he unlocks the door, lifting me again as he walks. It’s like my boots are barely skimming the ground.
For the moment, I don’t mind it because the world is spinning.
Miles gently pushes me down to sit on the edge of the bed, and I wince as my body finally acclimates to no longer being hung upside down.
“Okay, I need to get you something to sleep in,” he says, talking to himself as he turns away to dig into his suitcase.
“I was going to sleep in my clothes,” I say, though it’s a lie. I can’t go with my preferred choice if he’s here.
“That’s a lie,” he replies. “Your scent changes when you’re not telling the truth. I may not be around you very much, but I study you like I’m about to take the most important test of my life.”
Turning, he holds out two different articles of clothing: a long sleeved shirt and a sweatshirt. Tugging on the sweatshirt, I hug it against my body.
“There’s a couch here that I’ll sleep on. You can have the bed,” he continues, yawning. “The bathroom is just there.”
