"You need to jump in the shower."
"I'll be fine."
I cocked one eyebrow in disbelief. "You're soaked. You need to clean off and warm up while I throw our clothes in the washing machine."
Surprise widened her eyes for a brief second, only to be replaced by suspicion as she fixed me with a narrowed gaze.
"You can wear a pair of my sweats while we wait." My clothes would be too big on her but there was something appealing—and maybe a bit too possessive—about the image of her wearing my clothes. I'd much prefer her wearing nothing at all but that wasn't an option, not just yet.
A man could hope, though.
She must not have had any inkling of the inappropriate thoughts spinning through my head because she slowly nodded then went back to blotting the water from her hair. I turned and headed toward my bedroom, cringing when I saw the rumpled sheets and the comforter hanging half off the bed. I rarely bothered making it and this morning was no exception.
Whatever. It wasn't like Addy had never seen my unmade bed before. And to be honest, it was in better shape now than it had been in all those times she'd joined me—
No. I couldn't entertain those thoughts right now, no matter how much I wanted to. Not with Addy following me into the bathroom. Not when that haunted look of distrust and confusion and wariness still lined her face. Part of me understood it. Something had shifted between us, something I was still trying to come to grips with myself. We were in uncharted waters, feeling each other out, trying to figure out where we went from here—if anywhere. I knew what I wanted: for things to continue the way they had been.
Fun.
Sex.
No commitments.
More sex.
But even I wasn't foolish enough to think that was entirely possible. Not right now. Not after learning who she was.
Didn't mean I couldn't hope.
I reached into the tiled shower and turned on the water so it would heat up then grabbed a stack of towels and placed them on the counter so they'd be in easy reach. "I don't have any smelly soap or fancy shampoo but—"
"This is fine. Better than nothing, right?"
I returned her shy smile then stepped past her and made my way back into my bedroom. I returned, a folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt in my hands. I placed both on the counter next to the towels then backed out of the room.
"I'll use the other shower," I said, pulling the door closed before I could do something stupid, like asking her if I could join her.
Fifteen minutes later, I was standing in the kitchen, clean and dry in my own sweats and t-shirt. I heard the water turn off in the master bath and forced myself to focus on the sandwiches I was making instead of images of Addy stepping from my shower.
Fully naked.
Droplets of water dripping from her body.
Her gentle hands rubbing the towel over all her luscious curves.
Fuck.
I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath, forcing my imagination away from the woman in my bathroom. Only imagination had nothing to do with it because I'd seen her nude body before, knew exactly what she looked like stepping out of my shower.
I took another deep breath, willing my cock to settle down instead of jumping to attention with anticipation. No way in hell would Addy miss my hard-on, not when it was doing its damnedest to push through the thin cotton of my sweatpants. Maybe if I stayed behind the island counter—
I added the top piece of bread to the first sandwich, tossed a handful of chips on the plate next to it, then placed the plate on the placemat at the edge of the island. I slid the second placemat closer to me then put my plate on top of it. There, problem solved. Addy would take the seat across from me and wouldn't be able to see anything below my waist.
I hoped.
She stopped in the middle of the room, her gaze darting to the sandwich and glass of iced tea like she hadn't been expecting to see them. Her bare feet were silent as she padded across the wood floor and slid the stool out.
"Who are the Bombers?"
"Hm?"
"The Bombers." She pulled the oversized t-shirt away from her and pointed to the faded logo on the front. Had she known I was staring at the way the thin cotton molded to the lush roundness of her breasts, or the way the points of her nipples pushed against it? Probably not. Her face was a perfect image of innocence mingled with genuine curiosity that had nothing to do with the fact that I was trying my best not to drool.
I gave myself a quick mental shake—a hard one—and popped a few chips into my mouth, hoping that would give me enough time to regain some composure. I followed the chips with a sip of water then carefully focused my gaze on a spot just over Addy's shoulder.
"A team I used to play for."
"Before coming here."
"Yeah. Up in Pennsylvania."
"Why did you come here if you were playing up there?"
"I didn't have a choice." I popped three more chips into my mouth and obliterated them with my teeth.
"I don't understand."
"I was traded."
"Why?"
I bit back a frustrated sigh and told myself she wasn't deliberately antagonizing me. Addy's father might be the owner of the Bourdons but that didn't mean she knew anything about hockey. Something told me that was a family trait.
"Things weren't working out up there." It wasn't exactly a lie but it was a hundred times better than telling her I got traded because I was a fuck-up.
She ran her finger around the rim of the plate for several seconds, her brows pulled low over her eyes. A minute went by before she finally looked up at me, the delicate frown still in place. "They can just do that? Trade you, I mean."
"Yeah." It was a little more complicated than that but I wasn't about to try to explain about contracts and waivers and clauses and deadlines and the fact that I had an agent specifically to deal with those headaches. And I sure as hell wasn't about to admit that being here in New Orleans was my one last shot to save my floundering career. I nodded toward her plate, a misplaced attempt to change the subject. "Eat up."
She stared down at the sandwich, picked at the bread crust with the tip of one fingernail, then looked back at me without taking a single bite. "Is that why you haven't unpacked anything or decorated? Because you might not be in New Orleans for very long?"
I forced my gaze away from hers, told myself I was seeing things in the depths of her dark eyes. Did my best to convince myself what I saw was nothing more than my imagination. Maybe I was just projecting what I wanted and she really wasn't staring at me like she'd rather be nibbling on me instead of the sandwich in front of her.
I popped another chip in my mouth and stared at the empty wall behind Addy. "Your clothes should be almost ready for the dryer. Once they're done, I can take you home—"
"I don't want to go home. Not yet."
Her words froze me in place. I held myself still, unable to move even if I had wanted to as she lowered herself from the stool and walked around the granite-topped island. Who the hell was I kidding? A fucking earthquake couldn't make me move right now, not when Addy was stepping toward me. Reaching for me.
I still didn't move, not even when she ran the fingers of one hand along my arm and across my shoulder. Not when she stepped closer and pressed the full roundness of her breasts against my chest. Not even when she tilted her head back and watched me with eyes filled with sharp need.