Page 21 of Full Tilt
I lean forward on the desk, holding the guy—who can’t be any older than me—hostage with my glare. “Do I look like I’m about to accept anI can’tfrom you?” I circle my face for effect. “Moreover, I’m a famous hockey player who is worried about a friend. Do you really want that on your conscience tomorrow morning when I splash your lack of compliance all over the internet?”
His eyes grow even wider as they dart around the lobby, and mine fall to his name badge.
“Listen … Chad. You have a simple choice—Jenna Miller’s room number or your job. You decide which one you’d rather give up.”
His wide eyes fall to the keyboard, and he types in a couple of words, twisting the screen around to face me. Perhaps he feels less accountable by not reading the number aloud.
Either way, I have it. Room 612.
I tap him lightly on the shoulder, and he visibly deflates. “Good man. You and your paycheck live to fight another day.”
Two minutes later, I’m on the sixth floor—two floors above my own—stalking the hallway until I pull up outside Jenna’s room.
My knuckles hover over the door, and I swallow thickly. I know I’m overstepping by doing this. The feud between us is entering into dangerous water that could get us both reprimanded by our teams.
I knock anyway and step to the side so she can’t view me through the peephole and refuse to open the door.
Nothing, not even a sound echoes from inside the room, and I begin to question if Chad values his job as much as I thought he did.
I knock again, louder this time.
“Who is it?” a sleepy Jenna asks on a yawn.
I smile and move aside again, summoning my best fake voice. “My name is Chad. I’m working reception tonight, and I have a message that I didn’t think could wait until tomorrow.”
Her voice gets louder as she moves toward the door. “A message from who? And why didn’t you just call me?”
I ignore her reasonable question. “From your brother, Holt. He was injured in a rugby incident and?—”
The door swings open before I can finish my sentence, and I’m inside before she gets a chance to scream or react. I slam the door behind me, and the room is flooded in soft lighting from her bedside lamp.
She’s alone. Good.
“Tommy!” she yells.
I step forward and pin her against the bedroom wall, one palm over her mouth, the other flat above her head.
“Don’t even think about yelling, Hellion,” I grit out, my heart pounding clean through my chest. “You entered my roomwithout consent earlier to deliver room service, and I’m merely returning the favor.”
Her pretty eyes are wide with shock immediately before she narrows them and bites the inside of my palm. Hard.
I pull my hand away, certain she’s drawn blood.
“Fucking Jesus,” I announce, surprised to see she didn’t break the skin. “I’ve got a hockey game in the morning. You nearly fucked the entire thing with that move.”
The blood racing to my palm diverts to my dick when I take her in, seeing she’s dressed in silky black sleep shorts and a tiny black bralette.
“You’re a sick man—you know that?” She crosses her arms over her chest, her full breasts squeezing together as she taps a manicured foot against the plush carpet. “Forcing entry into a woman’s hotel room and then proceeding to ogle her. I thought you’d already had your fill with the surf ’n’ turf I hand-delivered to your room earlier.”
A growl emanates from my chest, and I press her against the wall again. “Why are you such a silly little girl?” I desperately want to wrap my hand around her throat just to see how well her neck would fit into the space between my thumb and forefinger.
She’d do anything I asked if I held her like that. Completely at my mercy, just how I’d like her.
“Get away from me, Tommy,” Jenna spits.
“Not until I have answers,” I reply, forming a fist against the wall above her head. “How did you gain access to my room? Was my captain in on your pathetic prank?”
She scoffs. “Jack’s too busy with Kendra to care about humiliating you.”
