“Texas hold ’em?” Dax asks as he reaches for the deck of cards.
“I’m in,” Erik says before taking a pull on his beer.
Dax starts to shuffle and looks to me. “I’m in.”
“Brooke?” Dax asks.
She shakes her head with a laugh. “No way. I’m not good at card games and not about to lose my money. I think I’ll go up to the front of the plane.”
Brooke starts to stand, but before I can even guess why I do it, my hand shoots out and locks around her wrist. She looks at me curiously.
“Stay.” My tone doesn’t convey that as an order, but merely as a request.
I bet if I looked over at Erik, he’d think nothing of a man wanting his woman to stay by his side.
But I know if I were to look over at Dax, I’d see intense interest on his face as well as a bit of amusement. Yes, we’re putting on a show, but it’s clear I want her here because I simply want her here.
When Brooke gives me an accommodating smile and sinks back down into her chair, I loosen my hold on her. I give her a return smile, and whether it’s for show or not, and fuck Dax and his knowing gaze, I lean in and give her a soft kiss.
When I pull back, I turn in my seat and order Dax, “Deal and prepare to lose your money.”Chapter 12BishopWhat’s your room number? I text Brooke after I get my bag unpacked. I’m tired, but not so tired that I don’t want to fuck her. I’ve thought about barely anything else on the ride from the airport to the hotel.
Tacker is still in the bathroom and the shower is running. His suitcase sits on the bed with the top opened. It looks like a five-year-old packed, with stuff just thrown in haphazardly.
I wonder why we got paired as roommates. We have no voice in the matter and room with whomever the powers that be tell you to room with. Brooke efficiently met with the hotel night manager, who had all room keys available when we arrived. Brooke read from a list that I’m quite sure her boss probably put together, and I was slightly surprised when she called Tacker’s and my names to share a room.
Didn’t make any difference to me who my roommate was, as I fully intended to sleep with Brooke in her room. As the only female on this trip, she got one all to herself, and we were going to take advantage of that.
My phone chimes and I look down at her return text. Not going to tell you. Now go to sleep.
I stare at my phone for just a moment, not really comprehending that she just shut the metaphorical door in my face.
Finally, I’m able to reply. I type out, Seriously? but before I hit send, I change my mind and delete it.
Instead, I write, Tell me the room number or I’m going to go knock on every door until I find you.
Her response is pretty quick. Three laughing faces with tears emojis, followed by her room number.
Smiling, I tuck my phone into my pocket and walk over to the bathroom door. I give a sharp rap on it and call out to Tacker, “Going down to Brooke’s room. I won’t be back tonight.”
“Later,” I hear him call back.
So much for getting to know the reclusive guy, but there will be time for that later. I’ve only got Brooke for a few weeks.
Grabbing my room key off the dresser, I head for Brooke’s room, which is one floor down. When she opens the door, she’s wrapped in only a towel, her shoulders still wet from a shower she must have taken. Her hair is still dry and pinned up in some kind of frothy mass on top of her head.
“Hey,” she says as she holds the towel closed with one hand. She steps back from the door and I walk in, shutting it behind me. “Took a quick shower. I’m kind of wired for some reason.”
“First game of the season,” I say in a teasing tone as I follow her into the room. “First ride on a fancy plane. Hanging with scintillating professional hockey players. Of course you’d be wired.”
She looks over her shoulder at me with pursed lips. “Not sure it was the hockey players, but probably the plane ride. That was awesome.”
Coming to a stop at the end of one of the queen beds, she turns to face me. I take another step, my hands going to her waist, and look down. Her face is beautiful from any angle, but when she peers back up at me through those thick lashes, it might be her sweetest look.
“How about a back rub?” I say to her.
“Does your back hurt?” she asks, concern filling her eyes.