I pull open the drawers holding our neatly folded clothes and pull on a matching bra and panty set before dressing in skinny jeans and a fitted long-sleeved white tee with a scoop neck. I complete the look with a designer leather belt with the exclusive logo on the buckle before pulling on socks and knee-high leather boots. The arena will be cold, but I want to look nice because I know the players’ wives and girlfriends often dress up in a big way. I layer necklaces and slip my gold heart-shaped earrings into place before swiping a light gloss on my lips just in time to hear the main door of the suite open.
Rhys walks through the bedroom door and stops in the entryway, taking me in. I bite my lip because I can’t tell what he’s thinking. But whatever it is, it doesn’tlook bad.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“Better now.”
“Do you need to change before we leave?” I ask, wondering what has that look in his eyes at a time like this.
“Aye.” He answers but he doesn’t move.
“Well, hop to it, my guy.” I laugh and wave my hands toward him. “We’re still going to dinner before the game, right?”
“I don’t know,” he replies gruffly. “The way your ass looks in those jeans and boots has me never wanting to leave the room again.”
“Eep.”
“Aye.”
“You need to get moving or we’ll be late,” I tell him.
“Then you need to come over here and kiss your husband.”
“Oh.”Oh.
He holds his arms out as I move toward him and they instantly close around me. I snuggle up to him and tip my head back to press my lips to his. Rhys takes over and proceeds to kiss me stupid.
He leans back and smiles down at me. “Hello, wife.”
“Hello, husband,” I reply, repeating my earlier question. “How was your day?”
“Productive,” he replies. It’s then that he moves usfurther into the bedroom, letting the door close behind him as his hands roam over me, mapping each dip and curve.
“That’s good.”
“Aye.”
“We don’t have time for any funny business,” I warn him.
“When I fuck you, hen, I assure you, there’s nothing funny about it,” he replies. “Although, I lament to agree that there isn’t time to properly fuck you.”
“Rhys—”
“Or even a quick romp.” He sounds devastated and I roll my eyes. “So, I’ll shower instead.”
“Good plan.”
“But later…” he says with a heated look on his face. He heads into the bathroom and I shiver a little as I turn to reapply my lip gloss because in that short time, we managed to get it all over his handsome face.
I walk over to the club chair and sit down, kicking up my feet on the ottoman while I wait for Rhys to get ready. I scoop up my kindle and open up the book I’ve been reading on this trip. If the press had details on what I read, they’d be scandalized. Who knew the world was in need of a mafia retelling ofWinnie the Pooh? They were right, we sure did.
The bathroom door opens and Rhys walks out in nothing but a towel, tied low on his hips. A water droplet trails down his chest and over his abs. As he walks by, he uses a hand towel to dry his hair, his musclespopping as he does. Really? It’s not that hard of a job…
“I know what you’re doing,” I tell him. “And it’s not going to work.”
“I don’t turn you on, hen?” he asks as he turns to me.
“You do,” I answer hesitantly. “But we have to go.”