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Mike says she’s trustworthy with my things, and that’s had to do, given my schedule. The fact is, I need help. I don’t ask for it much because of the lengths I have to go to in order to reel my quirks in, but that’s why I have Mike. He takes care of that shit for me.
He certainly nailed it with Cassidy.
Thoughts of the first night. Her crawling to me and the way she moaned as I touched her circulate on a loop, and I can feel my cock hardening beneath my jeans. I have to adjust myself without being seen, and it’s not lost on me that I’m a grown-ass man who should be able to control his dick.
The idea of fucking her again is always there. This woman does something to me, and it’s throwing me off-kilter. I’ve never had the urge to sleep next to another person, and right now, I’m having that urge with her.
Watching her twirl in circles, taking it all in, does crazy things to me. I’ve never wanted someone to see this place. To love it like I do. But it was important to me that Cassidy would. And she appears to, which makes me happy.
Yep. I made the right decision to keep this professional.
“This place is fantastic,” Cassidy marvels, drawing me out of my thoughts. “I don’t know what I expected, but this… suits you.”
My place is incredible, in my opinion, but considering I’m one of the highest-paid NHL players, most would consider this underwhelming. Her genuine reaction makes me wonder what her background is. People who came from money wouldn’t think much of my space, but Cassidy isn’t proving to be like other people.
This girl could be anyone from anywhere. What do I really know about her? Nothing.
I wanna ask. I wanna know more about her. But if I pry into her life, she’ll ask about mine, and that topic is off the table.
“Do you wanna see your room?” I ask, heading toward the dark hallway.
She follows me without a word as we make our way toward the back of the place. We come to the first door, which is farthest from my room.
“That room is used as an office,” I explain, continuing on.
I don’t bother opening the door to show her because there isn’t much to see. A desk. Some files. A futon. That’s it. I would consider myself a minimalist compared to my showboat teammates. When things have to be in a certain order to feel comfortable, you tend to have less, as not to have more to clean, straighten, organize, sort… the list goes on.
When we make it to her room, I pause for a moment. I didn’t get to see what was done beforehand, and now I’m anxious, hoping Angela took her time and made it feel cozy. The need for Cassidy to like this place is so intense, my stomach bottoms out.
“Aiden,” Cassidy prompts. “Everything okay?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Fine.” I throw open the door and step out of the way so she can make her way in. Just inside the door, I watch as her head turns around the room, taking in the space. Her space. She inhales deeply and exhales, sounding content. The relief is instant.
She turns to me and smiles. “Thank you. This is perfect.”
I bow my head. “Go ahead and get settled. I need to leave for practice in two hours and have some stuff to do beforehand.”
“Anything I can do to help?” she asks, placing her purse on the bed, made up of ivory bedding that blends in well with the pale gray walls.
I have to give it to Angela. She transformed this space expertly in a very short amount of time.
“Not right now. You’ll need to come with me when I leave, but you should take some time to rest for now.”
She nods, not needing me to elaborate. She knows I’ll have some things I’ll need done.
“I…I’ll see you in a bit.”
She doesn’t say anything, jumping into action, getting her stuff in place.
I take one last look at Cassidy as she rifles through the bags sitting against the dresser, full of clothes waiting to be sorted. She looks at home already.
It feels right to have her here, and that thought almost pisses me off.
“Get your ass moving, Slate. What is this? Amateur hour? You’re slacking, and it’s pissing me off.”
I practically growl, picking up my pace and slicing the ice with my skates. I’m headed toward the goal, ready to tell Coach to fuck off without words. Words will get you nowhere. Goals will.
Tomorrow is game three, which means today Coach gets to torture us during practice.
