“I’ll still be there and I’ll be completely indisposed.” His tone is confident and smooth. I’m not sure if it’s a promise or a warning, but it warms me from the inside out.
“For the record, I only use protection. Lots of it,” I blurt out. “No Squidward-Eeyore offspring in my future. I’m on the pill and you are wrapping it up. Got it?”
"Yes ma'am." Crew grins down at me and my abnormally blunt mouth. His hand moves to my lower back again but slides down to casually cup the round of my ass. "For the record, my offspring would be more of a cross between Prince Eric and He-Man."
I smile. He’s taking away my nerves without even knowing it. I’m going to do this. With Crew Westwood. “Okay, so we agree protection is non-negotiable.”
“Not a worry Fireball.” He winks at me. “I have a couple condoms in my front pocket. You are more than welcome to go fishing for them… see what else you might find. I’ve been hard since I set eyes on you.”
Whoa. The casual way he tosses that out there has me flustered, but it also reinforces my desire to do this. I’m going to get rid of my virginity and Crew Westwood is going to help me. This is what I’ve been hoping for since I stepped off the plane.
Chapter5
Crew
There is something about this girl that's different. I mean I could list a bunch of superficial stuff like how skittish her body language is, but how ballsy her brain is. She says stuff that a lot of puck bunnies wouldn't dare, even though they think it, yet she's kept her hands to herself since our kiss and her eyes constantly dart to the exits, first in the lobby, and now in the hallway as we step off the elevator. She definitely knows who I am, and knows hockey, but isn't a bunny. Yet she's taking me to her hotel room.
I’m so confused. But I’m also trusting my instincts, like my dad told me to earlier, and I don’t feel like she’s a risk. She’s something… But it ain’t a threat.
I'm about to ask her if she's sure about this because honestly, I amsonot about persuading a partner. They have to be all in on their own. But then she reaches out and takes my hand. I lace our fingers and it makes the corners of her mouth perk up a bit.
A room service guy passes us in the hall pushing a cart of empty dishes and he smiles fleetingly. We look like a couple stumbling home after a night out in Sin City. I can tell by the way his smile is sweet and not snarky. We don't look like a debaucherous one-night stand, but that's what we are. I have to admit I don't usually hold hands with hookups but this feels right.
She pulls her room key out again and stops at the last door in the hallway. Instead of swiping the key card, she presses her ear to the door. I smirk. “Making sure my… suite mates aren’t home yet.”
"Pretty sure Vegas is big on the soundproofing."
“Because of all the mafia hits that used to happen here?”
I blink and a gust of laughter huffs out of my lungs. “No. Because of privacy and the whole what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas thing. Your mind is dark, Fireball.”
"I've been gently reminded recently that the world is dark," she mutters, and before I can ask what the hell that means she swipes her key card and pushes the door open.
The only light in the suite is what filters in from the strip below the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the wall in the living room.
There are three doors, two on the right and one on the left. She leads me to the one on the left, opens it, and tugs us inside, closing and locking it immediately. There are no lights on and the curtains are pulled tight so it’s dark. I use my free hand to grope for the light switch. I find it and the room lights up. There’s a queen-size bed, and in the corner of the room, under the window, is an open suitcase. Beside it, in a pile, I see the workout gear she was in earlier at the hotel gym.
I let go of her hand, turn to face her, and cup her cheek. She looks up at me with big, petrified chocolate brown eyes. My heart skips in my chest. “Hey. Are you okay?”
She nods.
My heart stutters again and I drop my hand. “You know there’s no gun to your head and as much as that kiss was incredible, and I know anything else would be too, I am okay with calling this a night.”
She blinks and swallows so hard I can almost hear it. Why is she so afraid? “No. I want to have sex. With you.”
Whoa. Okay. I guess? That glimmer of uncertainty in those beautiful eyes is throwing me off. “What’s your name?”
“Never mind that,” she says, shaking her head and then stepping toward me.
I gently palm her shoulder to keep space between us. “I mean I know this is a one-and-done type of night but I should at least have a first name, right?”
“Wrong.”
“You know my name.”
“Half the world knows your name. And your dad’s. And your brother’s and your uncle’s for that matter.”
Oh. So she doesn’t just know hockey. Sheknowshockey. The world might know I’m Avery Westwood’s son and have a twin brother I play with, but you have to dig deeper into the sport to know that my mom’s brother, Seb Deveau, was also a pro.