“What?” She sat up, scandalized. “You’re just going to wing it? I’d be on draft number twenty, color-coded and laminated.”
He chuckled and rubbed her shoulder. “Relax. I’ve got an idea of what I’ll say.”
“It’s back on!” she said, whipping her head toward the screen. “That’s goalie interference!” She pointed furiously. “He wasinthe crease.” She turned back to him. “Seriously, though—aren’t you even alittlenervous?”
Cary ran a hand through his hair. “Why would I be nervous?”
She gave him a look. “Um, the crowd? The cameras? The millions of people watching?”
“Babe, I do this for a living.”
Right.You’re Cary Kingston.
She grabbed the remote control. “Want to watch SNL after this?”
“I haven’t seen it in years,” he said. “Probably since I was on it. Who’s the musical guest?”
She pulled up the schedule on the TV. “I love them!”
“I’m officially old.” He sighed. “I like the host, but I’ve never heard of this band.”
“That’s okay, I’ve never heard of the host,” she admitted. “We make a great pair, don’t we?”
“The best pair.” He laughed, although he seemed to mean it.
She sank into the pillows and sighed. “I wish John Mulaney or Dave Chappelle hosted SNL every week.”
Cary chuckled. “Like a residency?”
“Exactly. Or at least bring in a comedian to guest write. Not some actor who thinks mugging for the camera counts as a punchline.” She kept her eyes on the hockey game, gently rubbing her thumb along his. “Don’t forget to thank your parents tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m sure they’ll be watching on TV.”
She snorted, covering her mouth. “They’re sitting with us, Cary.”
His eyes widened. “Wait—my parents arecoming? Here? To Saskatoon?”
She bit her bottom lip and nodded.
“You invited them?”
“Of course I did,” she said sweetly. “I’m in charge of your events, remember?”
“Ah, but you’re usually all talk.”
She grabbed the remote and shut off the TV. “You’re going to pay for that, Cary Kingston.”
He flashed a smile. “I knew I had money for some reason.”
She straddled him, grinding her hips with slow, deliberate pressure. One by one, she undid the buttons on her onesie, letting the fabric fall open to reveal a sliver of skin. When he reached for her, she batted hishand away and arched her back, her hair cascading down to brush the bed.
“Is this turning you on, Cary?”
With both hands, she cupped her breasts, teasing him while the hardness beneath her shifted and grew.
Once he was fully hard, she leaned forward, letting her hair fall into his face. His breath was warm on her skin.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “I’m all talk.”
