Page 11 of One Last Puck

“You have a beautiful soul. Do you know that? I feel drawn to it.”

My cheeks flushed.

“I’m sure my soul isn’t any more beautiful than any of the other women…” I started, but my voice trailed off as he turned me to look at him.

“Don’t play yourself. The way you light up when you talk about sports, your show—it’s beautiful. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s not something everybody has.”

I stared at him for a moment, searching for the honesty of his words in his eyes, and my heart raced. What was happening?

“Wash my back?”

He held up a towel and flashed an inviting grin.

“Um, sure.”

I slowly grabbed the soapy towel from his hand, and he turned around. His tattoo-covered back was on full display. My eyes roamed the length of him. His dick peeked through the gap in his legs.Damn, this man is fine.I swallowed the lump in my throat as I lathered the phoenix tattoo that covered his entire back. This was intimate, too intimate, but it felt good despite the fact I was crossing a huge line with Jax, and I wasn’t sure how this was going to play out in the long run.

We rinsed off the last of the soap before turning off the water and exiting the shower. Jax stepped out first.

“Here.”

He handed me a towel to dry off before we made our way back to the bedroom. I wasted no time climbing into bed and tucking my naked body underneath the sheets.

“What do you like to eat? I’m calling room service.” Jax joined me on the bed. I wanted to protest his staying, but I also wanted him here.

“Chicken tenders. Those are usually my go to.”

“Tenders it is.” He tapped on his phone for a few minutes before joining me underneath the covers and pulling my body into his.

“It’ll be about twenty minutes.”

He grabbed the remote off the nightstand and turned on the TV.

“Highlights until the food arrives?” he asked, turning the channel to GZN Sports.

“How do you know my nightly ritual?”

“’Cause I know you.” He pulled me into his chest, and the sounds of Malcom A. Styles filled the room. “And I got you tonight.”

I was hangingup my player jersey. It was official. Lafayette was perfect—smart, funny, could talk sports, and fuck me good. Add to that her being a squirter, and I didn’t need to see anything else. Lafayette Porter was the one. I lounged back against the soft pillows of the hotel bed, holding the baddest woman in the world in my arms with playoff highlights rolling on the screen. I was home. Faye was going to have to call an entire SWAT team to get me to leave this motherfucker. If it was up to me, neither of us would ever leave this room again.

“Now what was that pass?” Faye shouted at the screen, nudging me playfully with her elbow as the basketball highlight reels rolled.

“He threw that motherfucker to a ghost,” I replied, shaking my head.

“He clearly threw the game.”

There weren’t many women in the world that could appreciate a good night of GZN Sports and shit talking, but she could, and that shit had my dick swelling.

“Room service.” A loud tap sounded against the door, shaking us from our own little perfect world.

“Finally.” I sat up, gently pushing Faye off my chest. “Any longer, and I was going to have to eat you again.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have complained.” She stood to her feet. “I got it.”

“Got what?”

I stopped to stare at her. There was no way I was letting her get the door at this time of night.

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