Smith groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Five a.m.?”
“You think this is bad?” I snarl, rounding on him. “This is nothing compared to what I'm going to put you through tomorrow. And if Blackwood and Astor aren't here when I come back, all of you will be running until your fucking legs fall off.”
They nod miserably, and I storm out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame. Fucking kids. I recruited them for their talent, not their brains, but Jesus Christ, sometimes I wonder if they have two functioning brain cells between them.
I stalk toward my room, digging in my pocket for my wallet to grab my key card. My fingersbrush against another card. I pull it out and stare at it, my anger momentarily forgotten.
Hennessy's room key.
I must have grabbed it when I took her card to open her door. She was shaking so much from what I'd done to her that she couldn't get the damn thing in the slot. And now I'm holding her key in my hand like some kind of fucking sign from the universe.
I should go back and return it.
Instead, I find myself turning around, heading back toward the elevators. The rational part of my brain is screaming at me to stop, to go to my room, to drink myself into oblivion and forget about her until morning. But my feet keep moving, carrying me back to her.
The elevator doors open and I step inside, pressing the button for her floor. As the car descends, I stare at my reflection again, at the evidence of her still on me. I should at least try to look less like I fucked someone senseless.
I run a hand through my hair, straightening my shirt as best I can. It doesn't help much.
The doors slide open, and I step out into the quiet hallway.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I stare at the key card in my palm. This is fucking insane. I'm a grown man, not some lovesick teenager. I should slip this under her door and walk away.
I crouch down, holding the card between my fingers, ready to slide it into the narrow gap beneath her door. My hand freezes there, suspended in the moment of decision.
“Just put it under the door and leave,” I mutter to myself.
But I don't.
Instead, I stand back up, rolling the key card between my fingers. I could just use it, open the door, toss it inside where she'll find it in the morning. In and out in five seconds. She'd never know I was there.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I swipe the card through the reader. The light flashes green, and the lock clicks open with a soft electronic whir.
I push the door open just enough to slip inside, planning to drop the card on the entryway table and leave.
The room is dark except for the silver-blue glow of moonlight filtering through the open curtains. Of course, she wouldn't close them. Hennessy Vega has never met a rule or convention she wouldn't challenge.
My eyes adjust to the dim light, and I see her.
She's sprawled across the bed, one leg kicked free of the covers, her honey-colored hair spread across the pillow. She's wearing what looks like a St. Charles University t-shirt and the sight of the logo stretched across her breasts hits me like a punch to the gut.
I should leave. No, I need to leave. But my body betrays me, taking another step into her room instead of retreating.
The door clicks shut behind me with a soft thud.
She stirs slightly, murmuring something in her sleep, but doesn't wake. Her breathing remains deep and even, her chest rising and falling.
My fists clench at my sides as I stare at her wearing that fucking shirt. My school. My fucking colors. Where the hell did she get it? Did one of my players give it to her? The thought makes my blood boil. Which one of my fucking guys is it?
My phone vibrates in my pocket, the buzz loud in the silentroom. I freeze, afraid the sound will wake her, but she just shifts slightly, the shirt riding up to reveal more of her smooth thighs. I pull the phone out quickly, silencing it before it can go off again.
I see one unread message from thirty minutes ago. From “DANGER DO NOT RESPOND.”
I open it, and my throat goes dry.
So...do you want your tie back, or can I keep it? Fair's fair since you kept my panties.
My phone trembles in my hand, and a sound escapes my throat before I can stop it. Something primal—half-growl, half-moan and the burgeoning hard-on I was trying to avoid is now fully fucking trying to get my attention.
