Page 20 of Breaking the Rules
I know she feels a lot more for me than she’ll ever let on. It’s maddening.Insane. But I also know that eventually ... someday ... I’ll get the girl, and she’ll love me just as deeply as I love her.
Someday.
Until then, I can be a patient man. While hockey players aren’t necessarily known for their patience, for a girl like Essie, I’ll wait as long as it takes.
Her breathing evens out and she shifts closer, nestling herself against my chest.
The fact that she’s staying tonight, sleeping in my arms? It tells me everything I need to know. A grin takes over my lips as I close my eyes and relax into a peaceful slumber.
She’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.
2
PRESTON
In the morning, I’m actually stunned to see that Essie is still in my bed. A lazy smile drifts over my face when I open my eyes. She’s not cuddling with me anymore—she’s moved over to the other side of the bed, but she didn’t leave. It’s gotta count for something, right?
We fell asleep spooning and I held her in my arms, tucked in close to my body. She’d felt so good pressed up against me. I’d drifted off into a restful sleep. And I wake up feeling better than I have in a long time. Go figure.
I adjust my morning wood and watch as Essie blinks open one eye, then the other.
“Hey,” she says, voice sleepy.
“Hey,” I return, my own voice coming out deep and rough.
“Sorry.” She sits up, and rubs one hand over her hair. It’s an absolute mess and I kind of love her like this. Sleepy and soft. But I’m sure the claws will come out soon enough. “I didn’t mean to sleep in here all night.”
“It’s all good. I’m glad you did.” I stretch and rise from the bed. I’m wearing only boxer briefs which I’d tugged back on last night before falling asleep. Essie’s still naked and now my cock is threatening to harden for a very different reason than the aforementioned morning wood.
I do the gentlemanly thing and grab one of my t-shirts for her. It’s a Seattle Ice Hawks tee and she accepts it gratefully, tugging it on over her head.
I leave today for four nights to go play two games on the east coast. One in New Jersey and another in Pennsylvania. Essie and I have never had the type of close friendship where we text or call each other, so I probably won’t speak to her until I’m back. Which, basically sucks. She’s a really cool girl and every new layer I discover about her only makes me want to know more. She’s also a really good roommate. I wasn’t sure at first about having a chick as a roommate, but she’s neat and tidy and quiet. She always cleans the kitchen after she makes food and she doesn’t leave makeup or clothes out either. She also makes her bed everyday—I see it when I pass by her room in the hallway—which is more than I can say for myself. I think the only time I made my bed was that one time my mom came to visit last year. I do wash my sheets weekly, I just never saw the point in making one’s bed only to mess it up again every night.
Which means when she walks out of my room in a few minutes, this is it. This is all I will get. Except… an idea occurs to me.
“Hey. If you’re not busy…want to grab coffee this morning? Maybe breakfast? That new café is open. We could walk there.”
She meets my eyes as though she’s considering this, but I can’t read her expression.
I’m suddenly nervous like I’ve never asked a girl out before. My heart thuds in my chest and I just stand there in the center of my room in my underwear with a half-hard dick.Good times.
“Sure,” she says.
Gotta admit I’m a little surprised she said yes. “Cool. Need to shower first, or…?”
Essie shakes her head. “No, I’ll just get dressed. Fifteen minutes?”
I nod and watch as she gathers her clothes from my bedroom floor and departs.
In fifteen minutes I can actually accomplish a lot. So I jump in the shower, rub soap all over my body and towel off. I consider shaving, but decide against it. The stubble on my face is good for a few more days at least. Then I brush my teeth and get dressed. I’m actually done in thirteen minutes and then I wait for Essie in the living room.
There’s a few texts on my phone from the guys on my team. We have a constant stream of smack-talk in a long chain. It’s comprised of memes and bad jokes mostly. I scroll and shake my head, laughing at something Owen has posted. The dude’s hilarious.
A minute later, she emerges. She’s dressed in jeans and a loose-fitting fuzzy gray sweater that falls off of one shoulder. She’s wearing a baseball cap pulled down low and her hair is braided to one side. I try not to notice how effortlessly stunning she is—and fail miserably.
“Ready?” she asks, walking around me toward the door.
She doesn’t even give me a once-over. At six foot two, and in incredible shape—it’s not the reaction most women give me. It’s a little sobering, to be honest. Good thing my ego is robust enough to withstand a few hits.
