Page 121 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
It would be wrong to stuff them into my suitcase and take them home.
Nothing will stop me from doing exactly that, though.
I might have fucked everything up last night, but I’m not leaving those behind.
“Maybe the cleaners dropped it or something,” I reason, needing to get out of this fucking conversation.
“Yeah,” he says, tapping the card to his chin as he thinks. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
He places it on the desk.
My heart lurches as he studies me.
His lips part, and I swear an accusation is about to fall from them.
Thankfully, I’m wrong.
Although, I barely relax when he does speak.
“Guess we’d better get packed. Wouldn’t want to be on Coach’s naughty list.”
“No,” I muse. That is definitely not a place I want to be. But I fear that I’m far beyond the naughty list at this point. I’ve got a one-way ticket to hell for what I’ve done.
The moment Linc disappears into the bathroom to gather his shit, I flip thesheet back.
“Oh fuck,” I whisper when I find her Vipers-green G-string poking out.
I have it balled in my hand in a heartbeat.
“What was that?” Linc calls.
“Nothing.”
Unable to stop myself, I lift her panties to my nose and inhale for three blissful seconds. Memories from our time together slam into me, making my temperature spike and my dick stir to life. Not allowing myself to indulge, I shove the panties deep into my small suitcase. I’ll have to find a special place to hide those.
In only a few minutes, we’re both ready to head back to LA for a few hours of rest before our home game against Seattle tomorrow.
“What time is Rett getting in?” I ask as we make our way down to reception so we can get the team bus to the airport.
“About four, I think.”
“Any plans?”
He glances over at me, probably wondering why I’m so interested in his plans with his childhood best friend, but I figure it’s better to keep him talking so he doesn’t go back to the mystery keycard.
The second he held it up, I knew who it belonged to.
And it leaves me with the question…what did she do when she left me?
She couldn’t get into her room, and she wasn’t wearing any panties.
None of the ideas that pop into my head are good ones.
Not long after we join the guys, we’re hustled onto the bus, and then before I know it, we’re on the plane heading for home.
“Daddy,” Sutton squeals, her little feet pounding against the tiles that cover our ground floor.
No sooner have I bent down to greet her, she launches herself at me, her small arms around my neck, and squeezes me as tightly as she can.
