He Has MVP: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Boston Brawlers Hockey Romance) by Stephanie Queen

Author:Stephanie Queen [Queen, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-29T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Pink

What an idiot I am. I can’t believe I jeopardized my fledgling business to spend time with this man-whore. Why did I think for a damn minute that there might be something between me and him? The big dick-head. I pace around the master bedroom, glancing at the stupid computer taunting me from the desk. I finished doing all the work on the financial statements that I can do without Internet or files from my office. I could be back there by now. I should be back home in my own bedroom right now.

But I have only myself to blame. He’s being who he is, true to form, the MVP of players, named so by puck bunnies everywhere. Especially the slutty Jillian.

Okay, I’m just being a bitch now. I don’t know Jillian very well. Besides, I’m no better than she, am I? Pacing around the room, I’m too worked up by my stupidity and lack of work ethic when it counts to settle down to bed.

“Everything all right in there?” Aiden calls. I can tell that he’s near my door. I should open it up and slap his face. That might help me sleep.

But if I touch him, even with a slap, I know I’ll want him. Besides, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how agitated he has me.

“I’m fine. Go away. What do you care anyway?” I shout back at him through the door. So not cool. I hear him sigh deeply on the other side.

“Open up, Pink.” It’s not a shout, but I can hear his deep, caring voice clearly. It’s not a command, but I feel compelled by it all the same. Fuck that. I lost two days and nights of work over him.

“Back off, Aiden.” I stare at the door, waiting, holding my breath, knowing my voice has too much emotional vibration in it, as if I’m barely holding back tears. But that’s crazy because I’m not about to cry. Why would I?

Then I hear him move away, the sound of his bare feet padding on the hardwood floor, faint and falling off until there’s no sound of him. No sound except the ever-present wind in the trees outside.

Turning back to the oversize cold bed, I throw myself onto it and swipe at my cheek. Because, damn it, I’m crying after all. For no good reason.

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