Page 27 of Pucked and Pregnant

I start to extricate myself from the tangle of heavy arms and legs draped across me.

When I finally make it out, I’m breathing hard and actively sweating.

Gross.

This is exactly why I instituted the no-cuddling rule. Whether it’s figuratively or literally, I hate feeling pinned down.

I suppose this time it was inevitable, given the size of the bed and the number of people in it, but still.

No more hooking up with athletes, I scold myself.

I look back at the boys. They’re still snoring.

How the hell are they still asleep with all the pushing and shoving I did to free myself?

Part of me wants to leave them be and make them figure out how they’re going to leave my room without attracting attention.

The other part of me feels obligated to wake them up and have them leave using staggered exits times. They weren’t the only ones in the bed last night, and I highly doubt they would have enjoyed things as much if they were.

They’re also not the only ones with something to lose if Max or the media find out, so the kinder instincts in my head come out on top this time.

With a frustrated grumble, I move to Connor, the one closest to me, and start shaking his shoulder.

Nothing.

I shake harder.

The man doesn’t even twitch.

Okay, time to move on to Aiden.

His feet are the only thing I can reach without having to climb back into bed, but I happen to know a weird spot on his foot where he’s extremely ticklish—the base of his middle toe.

I’ve barely touched his foot when he kicks out so hard I’m knocked back a few paces. That had to have woken him, so I walk back over and look at his face.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Not wanting to risk the chance of getting kicked again, I go to my last resort, Dimitri.

Shaking didn’t work, and neither did tickling, so this time, I poke at Dimitri’s face to try to coax him into waking up.

His eyes are starting to open. Thank fuck.

“No, Ma, I don’t want to make borscht,” he says.

The jerk then has the audacity to roll over and bury his head under the covers.

Forget it. I give up.

I did my due diligence, now it’s on them.

I glance at the hotel alarm clock. I’ve got a meeting in a little less than two hours. Their flight home doesn’t leave until one. They have more time to spare than I do.

I slip into the bathroom to clean up and start getting ready for the day.

I take my pill while the shower is heating up, just like I always do because without the routine I’d forget. Oddly, doubt fills me as soon as I’m about to step into the spray.

I turn back and double-check that I took it.

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