Page 163 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
He pulls back, looking at my mouth, and rubs his thumb over the fullness of my bottom lip. His thumb comes away bright red. “I can’t wait to fuck this off you, Monroe. I swear, you’ve given me a mouth fetish.”
“I hate to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure most guys have a mouth fetish.”
Hux licks his lips. “Not like I do.”
“Oh, yeah?” Heat gathers between my thighs, radiating outward. “You’ll have to show me, I guess.”
“Deal.” He gives me a wickedly dark smile. “Can I take you to bed now?”
My lips twitch. “Almost. Want to pose for a couple of selfies with me? Gotta keep the Gram up to date, you know. It’s my job.”
“All right, all right.” Hunter acts like a Ken doll, letting me move his body around in a variety of poses. I take advantage of his compliance and sneak in a few extras, but he doesn’t complain.
On our way back, I post several new Instagram photos. My ring catches the light as my hand rests over his heart. The two of us in bed together, with him shirtless and me wearing his team hoodie. A mirror selfie of us getting ready for dinner, his arms around me from behind.
I post them because I genuinely want to. Because if this were real, if he’d actually proposed, I wouldn’t ever shut up about it. I’d be that insufferable person posting couple photos every day and not caring who rolled their eyes.
The thought catches me off guard.
“You’re overthinking again,” Hunter murmurs against my temple as we walk back into the hotel.
“How can you tell?”
“You get this little line right here.” He touches the spot between my eyebrows. “And you go silent.”
“I don’t go quiet.”
“You absolutely go quiet. It’s how I know you’re plotting something.”
I’m about to argue when my phone vibrates. Work emergency. I read about Thorne and some girl he hooked up with last week, who is now threatening to go to the press with what she claims are compromising photos and a story about his aggressive behavior.
I swear to god, hockey players have no self-preservation skills. What would they do without a PR team?
I handle it from the hotel room, sitting cross-legged on the bed with a half-eaten Caesar salad beside me. Twenty minutes and one very pricey nondisclosure agreement later, I solved the problem.
“Nice work,” Hunter says when I push my phone away. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“You couldn’t afford my rates,” I joke.
Honestly? I love being in the mix with this PR department. During it all, I fix things and keep the machine running smoothly. Being important. Beingneeded.
It fills some hole deep inside me and leaves me feeling very pleased with myself.
* * *
The next day we’re in Salt Lake City, after a game where the Havoc absolutely demolished their competition. Hux was an absolute savage, checking and throwing his weight around like he was out for blood. He set the tone for every single shift. And he did it without once getting called out for rough play. The rest of the team fed off it, piling on goals until the scoreboard felt almost unfair.
The press events were mercifully short. A good thing too, since I am running out of steam this far into our trip. The girls are all waiting for the team to finish so that we can catch a ride back to the hotel and crash.
It’s been a long week.
Ivy mentions that human resources is final-rounding a new office gopher for the Havoc. A woman, which makes me extremely happy. The team needs more female energy.
I flip through the profile that Ivy hands me.Scout Morelli.The profile picture is cute, one of Scout dressed in tennis gear, smiling at the camera like it’s her best friend. Where do I recognize her name from?
Oh, that’s right. Team manager Jared Duke emailed it to the team leads. Her résumé came across my inbox with a note about “excellent resilience under pressure.” I looked her up, curious.
She is married to Enzo Morelli, a very famous Havoc hockey player who retired and became an agent. He seems like a douchebag, but maybe that’s the sort of people pleasing that will help get things done around here. I would certainly like to throw Enzo’s wife a bone if I can.
