Penny:There’s a fine line. You must walk carefully because going too far would be like placing your penis on her pillow. But not going far enough would be like, hey, let’s play Go Fish.
Levi:Those are very different ends of the spectrum.
Winnie:Find the happy medium. You came to us for help. So this is the chance to do so.
Levi:And if I get hard?
Blakely:Show her first . . .
Penny:Then take a shower.
I glanceat the text from Wylie that I received when I was in the middle of our game.
Wylie:Arrived at the hotel. Watching the game at the bar.
We’re riding in the bus after a tough loss. That’s not sitting well with Pacey since he let three goals go by, meaning he’s in a shit mood. I’m in a shit mood because they never should have even had a shot at scoring through me and Eli. And now I have to try to put on a performance for my assistant who can see right through me.
Not to mention, the fucking list that Coach Wood sent me right before the game that put me in the worst of moods. Idiotic tasks that are a pointless waste of time. This is stupid. Really fucking stupid and I almost went up to him after the game to tell him that, but he wasn’t in a position to speak to anyone. I think he hates a loss more than we do, and I’m sure if I approached him about his daughter, he’d really have something to say about it.
But this one item on the list, it’s fucking terrible.
He wants me to ask Wylie to help me pick someone up at the hotel bar.
That’s . . . that’s not cool with me.
For one, I don’t need help.
Also, I don’t want to pick someone else up.
And last, what the hell am I supposed to do if I pick someone up? Do I bring her back to the hotel and tell her not to mind my assistant in the cot next to my bed?
Jesus Christ.
I drag my hand over my face just as we arrive at the hotel. Solemnly, we all start climbing off the bus in silence. No one heads toward the lobby as we make our way through the back entrance because we all know the last thing we should be doing is hanging out at the bar.
I text Wylie to meet me at my room.
A bunch of us pile into a service elevator, and we ride up together to our floor.
When we arrive, I just nod at my teammates and walk over to my room, where I open it with my key card. A cot has been placed next to the window, off to the side, and I let out a heavy sigh.
This is so fucking stupid.
Really fucking stupid.
I toss my key card on the dresser and kick my shoes off just as there’s a knock on my door.
Here we go.
I open the door and find a smiling Wylie on the other side. “Sorry about the loss,” she says as I step aside, letting her in.
“Yeah, it was a shitty night,” I reply as she stops in the hallway of the hotel room, her rollie bag right behind her.
“Um, what is that?” she asks, pointing at the cot.
“Your bed,” I say while shutting the door behind her. I take off my suit jacket and hang it in the closet.
“What do you mean, my bed?” When I turn toward her, I see the concern in her brow. “We’re sharing a hotel room? I’m sorry for assuming, but . . . I don’t get my own room?”
“No,” I answer. “I want you close in case I need anything.” Then I start unbuttoning my dress shirt and catch her eyes following my fingers from button to button. Her eyes grow intense as I pull out the tucked-in ends.
When I turn away from her, she says, “What kind of things are you talking about?”
“Just anything,” I say as I shed out of my shirt and then move farther into the room where I hear her draw closer.
“You . . . you have a bruise on your side.”
“Yeah, I tripped and fell in the training room, ran into the corner of a table.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Sore, but it’s fine,” I say as I turn toward her. Her eyes once again scan my chest and it takes everything in me not to pull her into my body and then toss her on the bed to make use of those greedy, hungry eyes of hers.
Then she just stands there and watches me move around the room. Finally after a few seconds, I turn toward her and say, “Get comfortable, Wylie.”
She bites on the corner of her lip and says, “I didn’t pack with the idea that I’d be sharing a room with you.”
I take her bag from her and prop it up on the luggage rack I’m not using. Then I move by her and like Penny said . . . I drag my hand across her stomach as I go by and ask, “Oh yeah, what did you pack for?”
I feel her sharp intake of breath before I walk into the bathroom and line my toothbrush with toothpaste.
“Umm, I packed for being alone, meaning, I don’t have work-appropriate pajamas and after everything that happened.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I won’t be looking.”
Lies, but whatever to placate her.
“Okay, well, if it’s easier, I can just get my own room.”
“Nope,” I answer with a mouthful of toothpaste. “This is easiest.”
I can see her contemplate that, probably thinking, yeah, easy for me, not for her.
When I spit out my toothpaste, I say, “Just going to go to the bathroom quick and then you can take over.” I shut the door and take care of business, the entire time wondering how the hell I’m going to get through whatever outfit she wears tonight.
Just fight fire with fire. That’s all.
After washing my hands, I move out of the bathroom, and she moves in with toiletries and clothes held close to her chest.
When she shuts the door, I slip out of my pants and socks and then move toward the bed, where I get under the covers. I send a quick text to the queens.
Levi:She’s in my hotel room. Do I massage?
Luckily and surprisingly, they text right back.
Penny:Yes. For sure.
Winnie:It will be a nice gesture, and it will be sexual.
Blakely:Use lotion and straddle her thighs so she can feel your dick when it goes hard because we know it will.
Ollie:Don’t forget an accidental side boob graze.
Penny:For sure, the side boob.
Winnie:Love a good side boob.
Blakely:Side boob for the win.
Ollie:I go feral for side boob.
Levi:Will she think it’s accidental?
Penny:Who cares. Get that tit, Posey!
Winnie:Either way, everyone wins.
Ollie:If she is offended by the side boob graze, then she’s not the girl for us.
Blakely:If she turns over from the side boob graze and shows her tits, you better end the night with one of her nipples in your mouth.
Penny:NO! We are not going all the way, remember?
Levi:What if I can’t help it?
Ollie:She’s right, we can’t go all the way. This is torture, not satisfaction. If she turns over, tell her great tits and then get off her.
Winnie: The great tits comment will make her feel nice while you ghost her for the rest of the night. She’ll be thinking, at least he said I have great tits.
Penny:Something for her to hold on to while she questions everything she ever did.
Levi:This sounds . . . mean.
Blakely:Did she or did she not walk in on you while you were coming on your stomach?
Levi:She didn’t! There was no active cum.
The door to the bathroom unlocks, and I quickly set my phone down and stare at the ceiling. I know I told her I wouldn’t look, but as she enters the room, I glance over at her and the rolled-up flannel shorts she’s wearing, along with the white tank top that does nothing to hide the shape of her breasts.
“What’s wrong with those pajamas?” I ask.
She glances over at me as she sets her dirty but folded clothes by her bag.
“Just . . . the no bra thing.”
“I’ll survive,” I say and then sit up. “Now lie down on the edge of the bed.”
She pauses and stares at me quizzically. “Huh? I thought I was sleeping on the cot.”
“You are,” I say as I get out of bed, and her eyes take me all in. I walk over to the bathroom and snag the free lotion. “But you missed your massage today, and I’m going to make sure you get one.”
Her unconvinced eyes meet mine as she asks, “You’re going to give me a massage?”
“Yeah. Problem with that?” I hold up my hand and say, “Look at how big my palm is, how long my fingers are. I can’t imagine you’d get a better massage from someone with smaller hands.”
“Probably not,” she says. “But isn’t that crossing the line?”
“I’m not going to do anything inappropriate. Just ease the tension in your shoulders.” I shrug. “It’s fine if you don’t want one, but the offer is there.” I set the lotion down on the dresser and move toward the bed again while she stands in the middle of the room contemplating.
After a few seconds, she says, “This is so weird.”
“What is?” I ask as I pick up my phone and see a text from the queens. I ignore it and go on TikTok, looking for highlights of the game.
“This whole thing. I didn’t think I’d see you for a few days, and now I’m here, sharing a room with you, and you’re offering to give me a massage. It just seems so odd.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you’re a bologna lover. You shoot for the unexpected. By the way, did you grab a book about Maine?”
“All they had was Washington state. But I grabbed it anyway.”
“Eh, I’ll give it a try.” When she stands there still, I glance over my phone and ask, “Are you going to get on your cot, or do you plan on running away in the middle of the night?”
Her teeth pull on her bottom lip as she says, “Well, I was looking forward to the massage.”
Ha, she can’t resist. I fucking love it.
“Then lie down,” I say. “Promise, it’ll be worth it.”
Still slightly hesitant, she takes a seat on the bed but doesn’t lie down. “You know, actually, I think I should just go to bed.”
“Up to you,” I say as I set down the lotion one more time.
“Yeah, I mean, it might be weird, you’re paying me and all . . . unless . . .” Her eyes meet mine. “Are you asking because it will help release some of your adrenaline?”
Look at her looking for a way for this to be okay in her head. Here I am, ready to go, and she’s trying to justify it.
“I’m asking because I feel bad that you didn’t get your massage today, and I want to make it up to you, but if I make you uncomfortable, I get it.”
“You don’t,” she says. “But I’m just trying to, you know, not cross that line.”
“I get it. You can keep your shirt on if you want.”
Her eyes widen. “You were going to have me take my shirt off?”
“That’s usually what happens with massages.”
“But I’m not wearing a bra.”
I smirk at her. “I wasn’t planning on giving your tits a rubdown, Wylie. That would cost you extra.” I nod at the mattress. “Just lie down.”
She chews on it for a second but then gives in and lies down on the bed.
I grab one of the flatter pillows to rest her head on, and then I ask, “Can I move your shirt up?”
“Um, I can just take it off, but can you turn around?”
“Sure,” I answer as I turn away and hear her take her shirt off.
Deep breaths, man. Don’t be the fucking creep with a boner over a girl taking her shirt off.
“Ready,” she says.
When I face her, I’m greeted by the sight of her silky skin, ready to be touched.
Keep it together, Posey.
I squeeze some lotion on my hands, rub it together, and then place my hands on her shoulders.
She flinches with a squeak. “Oh my God, your hands are cold.”
I chuckle softly. “Sorry.” I bring them up to my mouth and warm them up for a second before I move them back down to her back. “That better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I lightly run my thumbs along her spine and across her shoulder blades, making little circles to tie up any of the knots she might have accumulated.
“I’m trying not to moan here, but God, that feels good.”
And there’s the first stir of arousal.
I knew this would happen.
She didn’t even moan. She just talked about it.
And the girls thought this would be a good idea. Christ.