Page 73 of Hockey Boy

Long game. I’m playing the long game.

Me: It’s fine. I’ll see you at home.

Hours later, nothing is fine.

She’s still not home, and I’m pacing her apartment like a caged animal. I’ve color coordinated our closet. Her side is obviously mostly pink and mine is mostly blue. It looks like it belongs in my niece Addie’s Barbie Dream House. When that was finished, I stared at the bed, jumped on the bed, realized the bed was a mess and remade it only to freak out thinking about how, tonight, I’ll be lying beside Lennox right here.

Which brought my thoughts back to how she’s currently out with fucking skinny pants. The guy who’s likely trying to getintoherpants.

So now I’m back to pacing again. Because I have excellent hearing, and I’m listening for any sound that might signal her arrival, I hear when the elevator dings down the hall. Since there are only two apartments on this floor, and Gavin and Millie were already home when I stopped in to pick up my key, there’s a damn good chance it’s Lennox. I throw myself onto the couch, grab the remote, and turn on the television.

When the door swings open, I glance casually over my shoulder and offer a chin nod. See? I can do casual. Easy. Not insanely jealous and color coordinating our closet like we’re Barbie and Ken.

Fuck, I should probably rearrange the closet before she sees it. Once she does, she’s totally going to think I’m obsessed and planning our future.

“Hey, sorry I’m so late,” she says, shuffling into the room. She zeroes in on my chest before dragging her attention to my face.

Yeah, I’m in nothing but a pair of shorts—I got hot while bouncing on the bed. “Have a good night, Princess?”

In response, she licks her lips like she’s parched.

I fight a smirk, but it’s pointless, because my pecs do it for me. They flex and dance to the rhythm of “We Belong Together” by Mariah Carey.

Lennox’s blue eyes ignite. There’s no hiding the cocky smirk now.

With a huff, she shakes her head and strides toward the bedroom.

Looks like I’m not the only one desperately losing their mind.

Oh,he wants to play. We’ll mother-freaking play. I kick my shoes into my closet and remove each article of clothing piece by angry piece.

All night, I was tormented by the knowledge that he was in my apartment and I was at dinner, fending off pass after pass from Ryder. Because, of course, Aiden was right. The man wasn’t interested in hearing my pitch for the wedding. He wanted to just “get to know” me.

I said Aiden’s name more tonight than I did in the entirety of our relationship all those years ago, trying to drill into the imbecile’s head that I have a boyfriend.

Fake fiancé, really. Once we get a ring. And make the announcement. But whatever. The point is, I’m a taken woman.

Ryder didn’t get the message.

I left dinner without a yes for my boss. Instead, I reluctantly agreed to having lunch with Ryder next week “to discuss.”

I thought that was what dinner was for.

Clenching my fists, I do a jumpy dance and bite back the scream just begging to be let loose. The frustration coursing through me was only compounded when I walked into my apartment to find Aiden acting totally casual, like he isn’t the least bit fazed by the prospect of sleeping beside me tonight. Oh, and the ass was freaking shirtless.

I’m horny, and I’m agitated. Some people get hangry, but I gethagitated.

And there is only one thing that will cure this.

I stalk out of the bedroom in all my naked glory, head held high. “Want something to drink?” I call to him as I head to the kitchen.

He’s lying on the couch, pretending to watch TV.As I peer over my shoulder at him, he looks up. His eyes practically bug out of his head, and he shoots up to sitting when he realizes he’s staring at my bare ass.

“Lex.”

I spin, giving him a full frontal. “Yes?”

Catapulting off the couch, he slaps a hand to his face, covering his eyes. “You’re…naked.”