Page 69 of Daddies on Ice
I crack open the bathroom door and step out, suddenly realizing I fled without my clothes.
Jake notices too, his gaze drinking me in while he stands there in only his pants.
Heat flashes through me as I remember my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, lips swollen from his kisses. Panic creeps in as I hurry to dress.
“Let me walk you back?—”
“That’s not smart.” The refusal comes quickly. “Too many people might see. And Becky’s waiting.”
“Right.” His hand starts toward my hair, wavers, then falls back.
“Thank you for tonight. For the dancing. Everything.”
“Yeah.” His wicked smile makes heat bloom across my cheeks again.
The room feels too charged for more conversation. I slip past him and crack the door open, peering in both directions. The corridor maintains its late-night stillness, Christmas wreaths hanging between wall sconces, garland spiraling along the handrail. Snow drifts past the window like confetti.
My return journey isn’t hurried, just a measured pace that pretends the adrenaline is residual energy from the club.
I silently plead with each wreath:Please don’t let anyone come out of their rooms and see me.
A laughing couple stumbles from the elevator, too absorbed to notice me.
Perfect.
My keycard slides in, green light flashes, and I’m inside the privacy of my hotel room.
Becky sleeps peacefully, chocolate hair spread across white pillowcases, her small mouth slightly open.
A stuffed snowman from the gift shop leans against her shoulder. The room carries gingerbread scent from a “Holiday Cheer” candle. I kiss her warm forehead, and gratitude fills me like a blessing.
The babysitter struggles with her coat by the window, wreath light creating a golden halo behind her.
“How did everything go?” I whisper.
“Animated Nutcracker movie and too many candy canes,” she grimaces. “She wanted to wait up, but I convinced her with a bedtime story.”
I thank her and she leaves with Christmas wishes. The door closes with the softest click.
I need a shower. The hot water washes away club perfume, replacing it with peppermint-cedar soap.
I had sex with Jake Sorenson.
The realization crashes through me, my traitorous body tingling everywhere he touched. I force the memory away and focus on the water.
Clean and in Christmas tree pajamas, I climb into bed, but sleep won’t come.
My mind replays everything, from Jake spinning me on the dance floor, his eyes darkening as he backed me against the wall, to the reverent way he whispered my name.
Then unbidden thoughts drift to Ash. Our kiss by the broken bus, how he held my face like I was precious, the conflict in his brown eyes as he pulled back like he’d been burned.
Two men. Two completely different men who both make my pulse race.
Jake with his easy charm makes me feel young and carefree. Ash, steady and protective, looks at me like he wants to shield me from the world while consuming me whole.
The rational part knows this is insane. I’m their PR coordinator.
