Page 47 of Grumpy Puck

“Then we’ll go to another hotel,” Calliope threatens.

“It’s nine p.m.,” the concierge says.“And the game is tomorrow.Your chances of finding a room are slim to none.”

“Also, there’s nowe,” I say bluntly.“I’m not going to another hotel.”

Calliope whips around to face me.“You’re not?”

“I have to go to sleep early the night before a game.”

In fact, I plan to call it a night in about an hour.

“Fine,” Calliope grits out and rushes back to the fucking suite.

I follow her there.

She stalks from wall to wall, examining our accommodations like another bed might be hiding in plain sight.

“You realize the concierge could tell some journalist about that incident,” I tell her.“And that it could start a rumor that we’ve broken up?”

She narrows her eyes.“Are you saying youwantto sleep in the same bed?”

“No,” I growl.“But who said we have to?I’m fine sleeping on the floor.”

She looks down like she’s never seen floors before, then shakes her head.“You’re not going to get any sleep that way.”

“It’s fine.I’ve slept in much worse conditions.”Hell, there’s a rug here, something that would have seemed like a luxury back in?—

“You’ve got a game tomorrow,” she reminds me.

Fuck.

I cross my arms over my chest.“There’s no way you’re sleeping on the floor while I’m on the bed.”

“We can share it then,” she says.“But no funny business.”

“Funny business?”

Is she blushing, or are her cheeks red with anger?“No sex,” she elaborates.“No touching.No kissing.”

I shrug.“You don’t have to worry about that.I always stay abstinent the night before a game.”

Not to mention, I don’t sleep with coworkers, or stubborn women who are as infuriating as?—

“How fortuitous.”Her words drip with sarcasm.“I take my mascot duties very seriously, so I avoid sex before a game too.I also abstain from speaking with assholes.”

With that, she strides toward the bathroom, her hips swaying as if she’s trying to get me to notice how amazing her ass is.

And it is fucking amazing.Magnificent, really.I’m not the type to write poetry, but if I were, I’d dedicate a sonnet to this ass.

She locks the door, and I hear the shower come on.

Fuck me.All I can think of is that she’s naked in there, hot water running down her body, that curvy ass sudsy and?—

Great.Now I’m painfully hard and can’t do anything about it.The pre-game abstinence is about not coming, so jerking off is as much off the table as sex.

After what feels like hours, she comes out of the bathroom, wearing a hotel robe.

“Wolfgang,” she says to one of her rats.“Can you tell Michael to not be here as I change into my PJs?”

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