Page 56 of Hat Trick Holidate

“How many drinks did you have?” I ask, knowing he shouldn’t be drinking with a concussion and the pain medication the Jets doctor gave him. I’ve been around the game long enough to know the players do their best to hide concussions from the medical and coaching staff. He holds up two fingers.

Holding in the giggle threatening in my throat, I continue to watch Bryce fumble around the hotel furniture. For someone with such incredible skills and balance on the ice, it’s ironic to see him struggle with simple movements. It’s a gentle reminder that even though he’s a top-tier athlete, he’s a regular person.

“Let’s get you in bed.”

“Don’t say the B word. All I can think about is being with you, sucking your wet little nub between my lips.”

“What’s the B word?” I ask because I didn’t saybitch.

“Bed.” He chuckles.

Two hundred plus pounds of dead weight lays against my body as I slowly get him to his bedroom and roll him out of my arms and onto the bed.

Protesting, Bryce stammers, “No, I want to say good night to Jolie,” Bryce protests.

“She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.” I take off his shoes. “It’s been a long day.” I unbutton his dress shirt.

“Aww, you want me even though there’s no sparks.” He’s slurring his words. “There were sparks. So many sparks.”

Minutes later, I have him in his tight red boxer briefs, and his monster ridge is well defined. He tugs me, and my body ends up on top of his.

“Be honest, Rusti. Together, we’re an active volcano.”

“Bryce…”

But his lips are on mine before I can finish. It’s not hungry or desperate—it’s sweet, yet sexy. One large hand tangles in my hair, and the other wraps around the small of my back as he kisses me without tongue.

“I want you. I want you to sleep with me,” he says into my mouth. “I promise not to do anything that you don’t want me to.”

That’s the problem—there’s nothing I wouldn’t let him do.

Pushing up from him, I roll over onto my side. “If you’ll drink some water, I’ll sleep beside you. But no hanky-panky. Got it?”

As I’m scooting off the mattress, he smiles with his eyes closed. “You’re missing out.”

“I know, big guy.” Believe me, I know. There’s no sense in talking to him about us when he’s presenting the symptoms of a concussion.

I grab two bottles of water from the mini fridge in the kitchenette and take it to bed. “Sit up and drink.” His abdomen muscles contract as he lifts. As he drinks, water droplets get caught in the smattering of light-brown chest hair. I find myself licking my lips.

Bryce Wynward isn’t an option anymore. I can’t screw my brother over, and tonight’s fight is a reminder. If that would have been Roman, instead of Reed, he’d be off the team. I can’t let Bryce be another man in my life who screws up Roman’s career.

His arm falls wide across the king-size bed. “Come on.”

When I get in, he snuggles me into his body. As I run my fingers through his chest hair, he delicately tugs at strands of my hair. Leaning in for a sweet kiss, I sigh in contentment. But as I look up, he’s already fast asleep, and I’m so comfortable in his arms, I don’t retreat to my own bed. I stay enveloped by his warm, strong arms.

Awakened by the flush of a toilet, I realize he’s not in the bed. The sheets beside me are cold, so he’s been up for a while. I turn over, burying my nose in his pillow, letting his musky cologne fill my senses.

A door creaks open, and I sit up. When he comes back, he says, “Just checking on Jolie.”

“How do you feel?” I ask as the bathroom light sheds shadows over his physique.

“Better.” One word—better. He’s back to being grumpy.His ass is on the edge of the bed, back to me and elbows on his knees. “She said Cannon’s name.”

I swivel my legs to the side with one hand on his shoulder. “What? When?”

“The night of our date.”

The pads of my fingers run over his back. “Bryce, look at me.” He glances over his shoulder, and I pull on the same shoulder, so he shifts to me. “That’s completely normal. Children don’t see other children as a threat.”

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