My phone vibrates from the floor beside the bed, and I finally get up the courage to slide out from under his arm. I check the caller ID. It’s my mom. She’s called and messaged a bunch of times since last night. Fuck. I never do this. Even in college, Cosmo and I would text each other if we were taking over our shared room for the night, or not coming back to it at all. Mom has to be freaking out. I make my way to the kitchen and shoot her a text.
LUKA: I’m fine. The phone died, and I crashed at a teammate’s place. Sorry to worry you. I’ll be home soon.
Reid makes a soft whining noise from the bedroom, and I lean back to check on him. He’s still asleep, but he’s half tangled in the bed sheet, perfectly tight, bare ass up begging me to climb back in with him. But I can’t.
I grab my clothes, dress, and sneak out, and the second the door closes behind me, I regret leaving. I can’t exactly knock on the door to be let back in, can I?
Fuck no, that would be weird. Well, even weirder than sneaking out in the first place. Urgh, I’ll just go home and see him at the rink for practice.
***
“Should we expect more nights like that?” Dad asks the moment I’m through the door.
“I texted mom this morning.”
“That was super helpful at midnight when she was still up waiting for you, texting and calling you to make sure her baby boy was okay.”
“You’ve been practicing this, haven’t you?” I ask, and Dad crosses his arms over his chest, a stern frown on his face. But his lip twitches. He can’t hold it, and he bursts out laughing.
“Okay, so I might have practiced a little,” he chuckles. “Was it that bad?”
“To anyone else, you’d sound just like a concerned parent,” I reply, heading right to the fridge for some OJ.
“Hey, we were concerned,” he says, laying a hand on my shoulder, and I knew they would have been. Like any good parent, they would have worried, then remembered I’m all grown now and relaxed a little.
“But you weren’t up all night pacing the hall, right?”
“Well, you are an adult. We got used to not knowing where you are every minute when you went off to college.”
“I really should get my own place.”
Mom walks into the kitchen just as I’m about to take a sip from the OJ bottle. She shakes her head, reaches over and grabs the bottle, and then collects a glass from the overhead cupboard.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, just use a glass,” she says, pouring me a drink and handing it over.
“But it tastes better right out of the bottle.”
She turns to me straight-faced, but doesn’t say a word. I know well enough not to push.
“I’m going to change before practice.”
I should shower. Last night we crashed pretty quickly after what can only be described as the most intense night I’ve ever had withanyone. But I just can’t bring myself to wash away the scent of him. His earthy sweet cologne lingers on my skin, and it’s delicious. It wasn’t like this with Cosmo, not that Cosmo and I ever hooked up, but the feelings I have for Reid are different. I liked being near Cosmo, he was fun and cute and we always had a fun time, but this is so much more. My whole body comes alive beside Reid. And when he touches me, even just brushing my skin, it’s like a million butterflies swarm through me to my core. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? This can’t be what everyone else feels. How can I go on with life, doing all the boring things that need doing, when my body is constantly thinking of the last time it had him?
I can’t stop picturing us together. The way his hands held my body so tight and my fingers tangled in his hair . . . urgh, maybe I should have a shower. A cold one. My dick twitches as if to tell me it thinks a shower is a really fucking good idea, but I think it’s wanting more than a wash down.
I head to my private bath and strip off, instantly spotting two distinctive red marks in the crease of my neck.
“That cheeky fucker,” I say as I lean in close to the glass. “He’s branded me.”
I play the night through in my mind again, trying to remember when he even did that. I’ve got a really fucking good memory, and the images have me so fucking hard, so I jump into the hot shower and take care of it, all the while thinking of all the things Reid and I did last night.
On the way to the rink, I pass the florist, You Grow Girl, just as the shop girl is pulling up the roller door and preparing to open.
“Good morning,” she says with a bright, cheery grin.
“Good morning. I didn’t know you were open this early,” I say, and she chuckles.
“Yeah, Ace will be here soon with fresh flowers from the farmers market, so I’ll be able to make up today’s bouquets.”
