Closing my laptop, I sigh as I look around my hotel suite. I’m going to miss playing on the ice under pressure; now I’ll be the guy that watches from behind the boards. Stretching my arms, I debate what to do, as I feel restless.
That I completely blame on Violet.
Honestly, my proposition was something not even planned, but after seeing her again, a split-second decision was made. She looked at peace in her flower shop, and that cute summer dress with straps that fall off her smooth skin was a complete bonus.
Last night at the BBQ, I did my best to stay out of Violet’s way after the kitchen run-in, but my eyes kept circling back to her. The way she teases Ford is hysterical, and her laugh can make even a grumpy man delirious.
I wonder if I’ll see her today.
My phone vibrates on my desk, and I pick it up to see my father’s name flash across the screen. That’s a solid tap of the red button. I’m not in the mood to talk to him and listen to how I should invest more of my time into the Dash empire.
Rubbing my face, I know I need to get out of this place and enjoy the sunny afternoon, with fresh air to fill my lungs. Before I get a chance to make a decision, I’m interrupted by a soft knock on my door.
Excitement hits me, because even a man who never falters under pressure enjoys the idea of a woman waiting for him. Walking to the door, I open it to find an empty hallway, and my eyes travel down to the floor where I notice a card lying on the carpet.
I recognize the logo of The Flower Jar right away and quickly bend down to pick it up and read the card.
My answer is yes, Violet
My grin stretches, and I stand to scan the hallway. I know she’s here because I can feel her presence, and I swear I smell damn roses. “Where are you?”
Violet steps around the corner with a subtle smirk on her lips. Her hair is down, and she’s wearing another summer dress. It’s baby blue, and I make no mistake that there is a strap of a matching bra peeking out on her shoulder.
“I’m here. Really shouldn’t be. But I’m here.” Her voice is at ease, at least.
She walks toward me, but I reach out to grab her arm and yank her through the entry, closing the door with my foot.
“Where are the flowers?” I joke.
Violet assesses the suite before circling to face me. “You said they were optional, and I think I have something better.”
I step closer to her, completely invested in the fact that she showed up. “Oh yeah?”
She nods seductively then crooks her finger and invites me to follow her as she walks backward to the bed. “You’re playing a game.” She grabs hold of my shirt, right before she pushes me onto the bed. “But…” She brings one leg to the side of my waist and swings the other one around to straddle me, and instantly my guy rises to the occasion. “Games normally require two players or more.”
“More?” I croak out.
Violet chuckles and blushes. “In this case, only two.” It comes out as a playful warning while her fingertips push against my chest, inviting me to lie on my back.
I prop myself up on my elbows, wanting to get a full view of her stunning body on top of me, determined about an idea in her head.
She reaches to the side where she had thrown her purse, causing her body to stretch across me and rub friction against my cock. I breathe to keep myself grounded. Pulling a glass bottle out of her purse, my head perks up in full attention.
“Why do you have a bottle of pure maple syrup?”
Violet flashes me a playful look. “Don’t worry, I’m loyal to your family brand.”
“That I can see, but why is that here?”
She begins to drag the fabric of my shirt up my stomach to my chest, encouraging me to take action, and I swiftly pull off my shirt without her moving an inch from sitting on top of my cock.
“I remember you mentioned your fear of maple syrup.”
I chuckle, because I have no idea where she’s going with this. “And?”
She lowers her dress halfway without a thought, revealing the matching bra that caught my attention already. “You see…” She ceremoniously twists the lid off the bottle. “As much as I’m cool with your note on a pillow in swan-shaped form, and your ludicrous requests that I send you flowers, I’m not that easy.”
“Of course not,” I assure her. No, I want to do more than ease her mind; I need to get rid of any doubts that I would even put her on the same level as a puck bunny. My hands rub warmth along her thighs, and not in a sensual way but a caring manner. Before I have a chance to tell her that she can set the rules, a drizzle of sticky syrup hits my stomach.
