“This soap is fucking terrible.”
We look at each other and laugh silently.
I peek out as Jay slips out of the closet and through the front door.Just when we start to creep toward the door, the faucet cuts out.
We run back to the curtains.
We’re safe until we hear a little yip.
Waffles.I forgot all about Waffles.
He’s sniffing Brooke’s high heels with excitement.
“What is it, boy?”
The curtain jerks away, and Miles is standing there in a towel.“Well, what have we here?”
He’s definitely cut, but Brooke’s appreciating him enough for both of us.
“If you wanted to touch my trophy, all you had to do was ask,” he says.
I swallow a laugh and duck toward the door, leaving them alone.
Outside, my gaze lands on Clay’s door across the hall.
It opens and he peers out, doing a double take.
His arched brow when he sees me makes me want to bite my lip.
He’s wearing sweatpants slung low on his hips, his shirt in one hand like he was in the middle of pulling it on.
Or taking it off.
God he’s gorgeous.I should be over it after all this time, desensitized from being in the presence of that much hotness on a regular basis, but I’m not.
“Should I be jealous?”he murmurs, taking in where I’ve come from.
“Maybe,” I tease.
“Of Miles or Michael?”he asks.
I throw up my hands.“Does everyone know about this?”
“They did it to me my first year.We weren’t even on the same team.”
His slow grin is contagious, and I can’t stop the laughter that rises up.
My shoulders rock until tears warm the corners of my eyes.
A player I don’t know heads down the hall, and he and Clay exchange a nod.I step closer to Clay to avoid being in the way and get a hint of his clean male scent.
“What are you doing in the players’ hotel, pretty girl?”Clay murmurs near my ear.
My gaze runs over his muscles and tattoos, my throat going dry.
I peer up at him through my lashes and shrug out of my jacket to show him the jersey.
Hisjersey.
