Page 35 of Blindside Sinner

So, even though I hate it, I’m going to leave him alone until after the game tomorrow.

Then all bets are off and I’ll destroy all of him, from the hair on his head to the very last inch of his toned, inked, muscular, throbbing?—

No.Jesus, staying here has to be bad for my mental health.

As quietly as I can, I drop the bags onto the little dining table and back out, locking the door behind me. Then I fall into bed fully clothed.

I’m hoping for a blackout sleep without a single dream of Beck’s muscled body pressing against mine.

Per usual, I don’t get what I want.

18

SLOAN

A few short hours—or maybe it’s minutes? seconds?—later, I wake to incessant banging on the door.

“What the hell is this?” I mumble the empty room. I’m not coherent first thing in the morning. I need time and caffeine before I can function normally in the real world.

“Yo. You awake yet?” Beck’s smug voice is barely muffled through the wood.

I roll over to check the clock and groan again. What kind of psycho knocks on the door like that at nine in the morning?

Beck, that’s who.

The knocking comes again. I still don’t answer. I refuse to play these obnoxious, petty power games with him.

“I’m feeling extra excited about the game tonight,” he warns. “If you don’t wake that pretty ass up, I may have to go do something insane and potentially pressworthy.”

Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the?—

“I’ll give you to the count of three and then I’m going skinny dipping in the hotel fountain.”

If we didn’t have the pregame press conference in less than an hour, I’d fall back asleep and let him do it. But we do and he can’t. So, scowling, I get out of bed and wrench the door open.

“The hotel doesn’t even have a fountain,” I growl.

He grins that pretty boy grin of his. God, how I hate it. “Whoops.”

I roll my eyes, then slump my way to the bathroom to get ready in silence. Beck trots in my room and makes himself comfortable on my bed, playing catch with my phone.

I snatch it out of the air when I come back into the room in something resembling professional attire. I don’t miss the way his eyes ogle me up and down and the subtle smirk on his face, but I don’t acknowledge it, either.

Besides the press conference this morning and the game tonight, Beck’s schedule is as clear as can be. Which is probably why he’s annoying me so much. It must be nice to have so much time on your hands.

I tuck my phone in my purse and check everything over. Once I’m sure I’m ready to roll, I step into the hallway without looking to see if Beck’s behind me. Not that that is much of a feat. I don’t need to look back to feel his presence.

We herd into the elevator, standing shoulder to shoulder even though there’s plenty of room to spread out.

Beck peeks down at me with a smirk. “Sleep well, baby?”

I keep my silence until the elevator stops and the doors open to show the rest of the Final Five waiting for us.

Oh, how joyous.We’re starting Beck’s bullshit today with an audience.

“One, I’m not your baby. And two, yes, what little sleep I got was fine. But I guess it doesn’t matter as long as you have what you need.”

Beck, who was giving out fist bumps to his bros, stops to watch me. “What I need?”

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