Page 9 of The Enforcer’s Obssession

“Is everything okay?” Jett asks.

“Well, I can’t find your reservation,” the receptionist says with her eyebrows furrowed and a look of what I can only assume is worry.

“It might be under the coach, Mitch,” I offer.

“I guess I can stay with friends after all.” Jett shrugs her shoulders. I don’t voice my opinion. I damn sure think it, though, and that thought is Mitch would throw a goddamn conniption fit.

“It doesn’t look like we have a room in your name or under your name of the hockey team at all.” Jett looks from the clerk to me, and then back at the clerk, biting her lower lip.

“Okay, well, what about making a new reservation?” I’m just about to wade in when another bomb is dropped upon us.

“Any other week, I could book you without a problem. But it’s the preseason lineup, and we’re hosting multiple teams, plus all the fans. I’m sorry to say, but we’re totally booked.” I rock back on my heels, mouthing, “Shit.”

“What about other hotels? Surely, I can find one within the vicinity,” Jett says.

“You can try. I do know our sister hotels are booked through the week.” Yeah, I already know the answer to that. I’ve had to set my family up here before or in another city when there’s a line-up like this. There isn’t fuck all around for a twenty-five-mile radius.

“She’ll stay with me.” I hold the key for Jett to take. She doesn’t, not at first. “Mitch isn’t going to let you go anywhere else.”

“Fine.” She snatches the keycard out of my hand, stomps her foot, and makes a beeline for the elevator. I’m left with nothing else to do except nod at the receptionist and go after her. Christ, what a view. Her heart-shaped ass, curvy hips, and thick thighs in painted-on jeans are all the more reason to follow behind her.

“It can’t be all that bad, right? I mean, it’s better than the streets.” The doors open, and she takes a step inside, holding them open with a press of a button. With all the shit I’ve got loaded on my good shoulder, I crowd her in, nearly backing her up until her body is pressed against the metal panel.

“Or you could convince Mitch to let me stay off site.” She looks up at me. What I wouldn’t give to have her doing that on her hands and knees, my fingers gripping her short hair while I show her exactly how I want her to suck my cock.

“And miss out on time with you? Not a chance.” The elevator dings right as I’m about to dip my knees and take this a fuck of a lot further than I should, but the head on my shoulders and the one between my thighs are currently at war with the other.

“Rowdy.” I place my arm on the sliding elevator doors, allowing her to walk through them first after spending the past nine floors with her scent surrounding me, as well as her pretty voice, even if it was to try and get away from me. My, my, my, how the tables have turned. When Mitch pitched this idea to me, she was the last thing I needed or wanted. Not even twenty-four hours later, and Jett Monroe is becoming my obsession.

"Yeah, Jett?" We walk down the hall, passing by other rooms until we’re at the room I booked, one with a view of the water, a bigger room, which meant paying the extra cost. Totally worth it when Jett uses the key, opens the door, and we walk inside. She holds it for me, and I move right to the closet, setting my duffel bag on the luggage rack before moving her rolling suitcase beside it.

“One bed and a small couch. This isn’t going to work, Rowdy.” The heavy door swings shut with a heavy click. Jett walks over to the windows. I continue to survey the room: king-size bed, L-shape couch, small desk and chair, massive bathroom with a walk-in shower, and a mini-kitchen type set-up. “There doesn’t happen to be a second room connected to this, is there?” Her voice has a quiet, tired raspy quality to it, doing nothing to calm my ever-hardening dick.

“Nope, not unless you want to room with another hockey player.” She hasn’t screamed, thrown a fit, or demanded to stay with her friends and family. She just, takes off her leather jacket, and tosses it over the back of the chair.

“I’m too tired to care, Bouchard,” she murmurs, walking to the edge of the mattress and unceremoniously collapses onto it. The plush white duvet nearly swallows her when she stretches her arms above her head. “I’ve been up for way too long after staying up way too late. If I have to sleep on a king-sized bed with a six-foot-plus giant of a hockey player, I think I’ll survive. Stay on your side, don’t hog the pillows, and keep your hands to yourself.”

“Don’t worry, sunshine. I’ll respect the invisible line down the middle. We’ll see who can keep their hands off the other longer.” Jett tilts her head to the side. A faint smile touches her lips as she pulls her phone from her pocket. She unlocks the device in her hand, the bright glow from the screen illuminates her face in the fading sunlight. After a second, her dark eyes light up with a sudden professional focus, and her exhaustion is temporarily pushed aside.

“Oh, look at this,” she whispers.

“What?” I kick out of my sneakers, roll my neck until it pops, and walk over to the side of the bed.

“The first video, the ten-second reel we shot at the facility yesterday morning while you were doing PT. The social media team for the Lonestars reposted it two hours ago.” I sit down on the opposite side of the bed. She lifts her body up, and we meet in the middle, or rather I’m more in her space than earlier with how we’re face to face, but our bodies are shoulder to shoulder. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills my lungs, making my jeans all the tighter.

On the screen is a video, a crisp high-definition shot of me pulling the heavy resistance bands. My chest is bare, my shoulders are straining, my jaw is clenched right as I turn to the camera with a dangerous smirk Jett had no problem getting out of me. And the kicker of all of this is the view count, the damn thing is sitting at over two million.

“Read the comments.” Jett has a subtle edge of victory in her voice as her thumb scrolls rapidly through the feed. My eyes scan the multitude of texts on the screen.

@Lonestars_fanforlife: Okay, wait… since when is Bouch this hot???

@PuckFanTX: Bro looks locked in and the shoulder looks good. Let’s gooo!

@Hockeylovergirl: Maybe I don’t hate this guy anymore. Penalty minutes, what are those?

@TXrinkgirlypop: Idk, he looks reformed, but how long until he’s back in the penalty box throwing fists? Walking red flags don’t change overnight.

I stare at the screen, watching the numbers climb when Jett refreshes the page. The sheer speed of how she works boggles my mind. People are actually buying it. Well, some of them are at least. There are others who aren’t so sure, well, I’ll have to prove them wrong. There’s nothing I love more than making people see they don’t know fuck all about fucking everything.