The Pucker Next Door: a Hockey Romance by SARA NEY

Author:SARA NEY [NEY, SARA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-04-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

LIZZY

Would you wanna come back to my place?

He’d asked so tentatively—as if my answer was going to be no—and I’d laughed quietly, following him to the front porch.

My roommates were home but his were not, a deafening silence getting us when we’d stepped through the door.

“Where is everyone?”

“Movies.”

“On a Sunday night?” I look at my watch. “It’s seven forty-five.”

He shrugs. “They vacated to give me some privacy. They must have sensed I needed it.”

Ha.

My brain clicks the pieces of the puzzle in place; this is likely an unconfirmed case of Sully working his wingman energy behind the scenes. Doing the Lord's work…

Who knew?

I don’t want to sit in their common space—I’d rather be in the privacy of his bedroom on the off chance one of the guys comes home—and that’s where he leads me after grabbing us both a bottle of water from the fridge.

Such a gentleman.

So thoughtful.

He fusses when we enter his bedroom—locking it behind him—pushing in his desk chair and kicking a pile of shirts out of the way; closes the closet door and flips on a lamp. Turns off the overhead light.

It’s as if he’s never had a girl in his space before.

Sure, he doesn’t date. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t had a casual hookup with the purpose of getting laid. Urban legend says athletes have like, tons of sperm built up that they have to get rid of or they get overly aggressive. Fact or fiction, it sounds logical to me.

While he’s busy fussing with the cleanliness of his room, I walk to the window and pull back the curtain, glancing outside. Obviously, I’m curious about his view since I live next door and am delighted to see the clear shot of our bathroom—and my bedroom.

“Did you know you can see my bedroom from here?” I ask, letting the curtain drop and taking a seat on the couch as a way to take less pressure off both of us. Plus, this is a friendly visit after grabbing a snack. No expectations, no pressure.

“I haven’t looked,” he says honestly.

“I had no idea you had such a good view into my window—I’ll have to be careful and make sure to wear more clothes from now on.” I smile pleasantly, knowing full well if I plan anything from now on, it’s to wear less clothes and stand closer to the window.

I practically invited him to spy on me.

How horrible is that?

Brodie putzes for a few more moments. He removes his shoes and puts his hands in his pockets, then removes them from his pockets.

I dip my head to hide my smile.

He’s cute when he’s flummoxed, not sure how to behave around me, and awkward in general. Poor baby spends too much time on the ice and not enough time around females—in my professional opinion.

Transfixed, I watch as he pulls the navy hoodie over his head, eyes fastened on the expanse of exposed skin when he has his arms up, the sight of his belly button and pleasure trail positively thrilling.

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