Hello tomorrow.
But it’s not my makeup that really steals my attention.
That would be the hickies and bite marks littered all over my neck and chest.
Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a vampire.
My fingertips trail over the marks and bruises as I allow myself to go back there, to remember how his kiss and touch felt. How full I was when he thrust inside me. It’s no surprise my lady parts are a little tender today; the man was huge.
But that’s done now.
We had our fun. He gave me two powerful releases that banished the tension I was carrying around and will hopefully allow me to fully focus on what’s important.
My business.
Letting my hand fall to my side, I mentally run through a list of things that need my attention before we open again on Tuesday.
I brush my teeth and take my makeup off, and when I walk back into Sienna’s bedroom to find her still snuggled under the sheets, I feel a little more together.
“Shall I order breakfast?” I ask as I walk around and pick up my cell.
“Coffee. I need coffee.” Laughing, I climb back into bed and pull up a food delivery app.
Only thirty minutes later, Sienna’s buzzer rings through the apartment, announcing the arrival of our coffee and bacon.
“I’ll go, shall I?” I tease when she makes no move to get up.
She mumbles something as I head out to find our food.
Unsurprisingly, the second I walk back toward her with the scent of rich coffee and smoky bacon following me, she pops her head from the sheets.
She sits up and then holds out little grabby hands.
She doesn’t say anything until she’s taken a sip of her coffee and eaten three mouthfuls of her bacon and egg muffin. And when she finally does speak, I wish she’d go back to being silent and hungover again.
“You’re coming with me to the next Vipers game.”
I groan. “That’s really not necessary,” I mumble around my own mouthful.
“You had fun, didn’t you?”
“It was an experience.”
“And don’t you want to see if he’ll spot you again. Maybe you’ll get another ride on his stick.”
I almost choke on my damn bagel.
“Sienna,” I shriek.
“What?” she asks innocently.
“You said it yourself last night: he doesn’t do repeats.”
“There’s always an exception to the rule. Maybe you could be?—”
“No,” I bark, cutting her off. “Do not go there. He’s a fuckboy hockey player. Even if I wanted a man in my life, he wouldn’t be the one. I’d want someone reliable. Someone I could plan a future with. Not someone who’s in a different state multiple times a week with different women.”
“Maybe you could tame him.”
