The Attack Zone (Slap Shot #2)

10. Mitch

CHAPTER 10

MITCH

“ T his isn’t my room,” Stacey says as she examines the space. I’m suddenly very aware of my messy suitcase in the corner and all of my toiletries I know are all over the bathroom counter.

“I know,” I say. “It’s mine.”

She looks over at me with distain. I guess she’s back to hating me again.

“I am not staying in your room. Where will I sleep? There’s only one bed.” She motions towards the massive California king bed to illustrate what I already know.

“It’s a huge bed, we’ll both fit. The bigger issue is that neither of us has pajamas.”

“Neither of us?” she asks.

I swear she’s looking at me with the same look she had in her eye on the dance floor, but I have to ignore it right now. Because right now, she needs a place to sleep without my horndog of a libido interfering .

“I get really hot when I sleep, I just wear boxers,” I say as plainly as I can manage, but my voice is deeper and more gravely than I’d like.

“I’ll just wear my jersey,” she says as she unties it from below her chest to let it fall around her hips.

“No way,” I say. “You are not wearing King’s jersey in my bed.”

She rolls her eyes, leaning over to unzip her tall boots. I don’t check out her ass, as much as I want to, because this is going to be a very long night as it is without my making it worse for myself.

“You can’t be serious,” she says.

“You should have thought about that before you wore it just to piss me off.”

I expect her to deny it. To say King is her favorite. That it was a gift.

I expect every response except, “Did it work?”

I rip my under shirt off over my head in an attempt to give myself a few seconds to not have to respond. All it does is expose me to her more.

“Of course it fucking worked,” I say. “I’ll see if I have an extra t-shirt you can wear.”

I cross to my messy pile of a suitcase and start to rummage through it.

“No need,” she says.

“What do you mea—” I turn around and standing next to my bed is the single sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Stacey is in nothing but silky underwear and a bra that sculpts over her tits perfectly. I can see her pointy nipples through the mesh fabric, and I think I’m about to pass out.

“I get hot when I sleep too,” she says with a shrug before plopping down onto the bed.

“Okay,” I croak out. I take off my jeans, toss them on my suitcase pile, and try to name the vice presidents in order in my head so she can’t tell how completely turned on I am by this entire situation. I sit on the edge of the bed and plug in my phone. “Don’t women hate sleeping in bras?” I ask.

“I’ll take it off once you turn off the light,” she says like it’s not the most insane thing to have ever been spoken.

“Oh,” I say. “Okay.”

I flick off the bedside lamp and join a very close-to-naked Stacey under the covers. The bed is huge, so I doubt we’ll be touching, but the urge to reach out for her hand, to brush my hand along her waist, to crawl on top of her and grind my hips into hers, has never been stronger. Instead, I move as close to the edge as I can so I don’t make her uncomfortable, and close my eyes.

I hear her wrestling next to me, definitely taking off her bra, and I try not to imagine it. Try not to imagine her perfect tits falling out of the cups. My hands massaging them. Her hard nipples slipping into my mouth.

It doesn’t work. I’m definitely imagining it.

Dammnit.

Adams.

Jefferson.

Burr.

Clinton.

Gerry.

I go on and on in my head until my dick feels slightly less like it could cut glass and I’m able to nod off to sleep.

There’s something warm pressing into my chest. I think it’s a hand. And maybe a head? Wait. There’s something on my leg too.

What the hell is happening?

I blink my eyes open slowly. It’s still dark out but I can still see the very naked Stacey very much cuddling me. Her head and hand are resting on my bare chest and her leg is wrapped all over mine. What am I supposed to do here? She definitely didn’t mean to do this. So now what? Do I wake her up so she can move? No, that would be super awkward for both of us. I decide I’ll just stay where I am and try very hard to fall back asleep. Which of course doesn’t work, so I resign myself to just trying to not think about how perfect her body feels pressed into mine.