Page 35 of Hat Trick

Other than the fact that I haven’t kissed heryet?

Not aone.

“We’re testing the waters,” I finally answer, taking the saferoute.

“You haven’t kissed heryet?”

Christ. Am I that easy to read? I rake my fingers through my hair. “We’re . . . gettingthere.”

“I’d say to let me know how it goes, but I’m sure I’ll hear it through the grapevine, otherwise known as myfiancée.”

I laugh because it seems expected of me, but the damn bastard doesn’t move the rest of the way back to the hotel. Each time I try to sneak a peek at my phone, Beaumont starts up conversationagain.

Is it wrong that I want to muffle him? The man doesn’t talk to any of us for a straight year, and the love of one woman turns him into Chatty Kathy2.0.

When we clamber off the bus a short time later, I can’t grab my duffel quick enough. Harrison waves at me, shouting that he’s going to grab steak and to not wait up. The Mountain and I usually camp out as roommates together when we’re on theroad.

I’m not above hoping Harrison goes to an all-you-can-eat steakbuffet.

I wait until I’m out of the elevator and on my floor to callGwen.

She answers on the second ring, her voice breathy and feminine. “Hello?”

I angle the door to my hotel room open with a shuffle of my keys and a shoulder against the wood. “You go running?” I ask, flicking on the lights and setting my bag down in theentryway.

“What?” The word is a squeak, and I grin at my reflection as I start stripping off the suit we’re forced to wear at awaygames.

The tie is the first to go, followed by the jacket. I toss both over achair.

“You sound wicked out of breath.” I toe off my shoes and then drop my slacks, adding them to the growing pile on the chair. “Were you workingout?”

There’s a pause, and then some shuffling. “I . . . um, did you see mytext?”

My shirt is the next to go. “Not yet. Beaumont was hovering like a stage-five clinger. What did yousay?”

“Ah . . .”

At her hesitancy, alarm bells go off in my head. “Holdon.”

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I sit on the edge of my bed and open my messages. Two taps later and my cock is as hard as a fuckingrock.

“Gwen?”

A pause. Then, “Yes,Marshall?”

I swallow, hard. My gaze lifts to the mirror. I’m a gym rat, something I’ve never really given much thought to besides the obvious: working out is my escape. It’s an extension of releasing my emotions into physical activity. On a professional level, it’s a necessary fact of life if I want to stay at the top of my game on theice.

Right now, I’d kill to see Gwen’s reaction to my almost-nakedbody.

I try to see myself through her eyes—big biceps, muscular thighs, broad triceps, ridged abs. Tattoos line my arms, down to my wrists. My cock thrusts up, the crown peeking out above the waistband of my black briefs. Eyes squeezing shut, I force my free hand to the bed, even though I’m dying to give myself a littlerelief.

“Are you still thinking of me?” I rasp, wishing that she were here in this hotel room with me.Next time, I tellmyself.

“I probably shouldn’t have sent that,” Gwen says. “I don’t know what I wasthinking.”

“You missme.”

“Well,yes.”

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