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His large hand envelopes mine, clutching it too tightly for me to escape.

Not that I’m trying.

“Shouldn’t I wait outside?” I ask, scared to look away from him for a second in case I see another player in a state of undress.

Even if he’s the one who dragged me into the changing rooms, I doubt Kincaid will factor that in if he sees me ogling a half-naked teammate.

“Absolutely not. Once they’re done, I’m dragging you into the shower and making sure you’re clean from head to toe.”

A promise that makes my stomach flutter.

“Hey, Kincaid. You coming to the afterparty?” Jared calls.

Hailey stands just behind him, their relationship in its on-again phase, and her presence makes me more comfortable. We share a smile, then Jared lifts her into the air, bouncing her up and down like a trophy.

And Kincaid turns to me. “What do you think?” I nod, laughing as his face brightens. “Oh, I’m gonna corrupt you so badly. You haven’t seen a party till you’ve seen a post-semi-final-away-game-party.”

I’m still laughing at the label when he kisses me, hand cupping my head to hold me steady. Which is lucky, because my knees buckle under his devouring lips, fists bunching in his sweaty shirt.

“Save it for the room, guys,” his coach calls out, sounding nervous.

He’s probably seen his fair share of post-match celebrations, and I don’t want to add to his trauma. “How about you take a shower, and I head back to the room to change?”

“No need. I have another outfit for you in my locker.” His lips find my ear, buzzing against it as he whispers, “Call me a boy scout because I am always prepared.”

With that, he tosses me over his shoulder, carting me into the showers and chasing out the few remaining players.

“And what’s stopping them coming back through the door?” I ask, squirming away from his clasping hands.

“Common decency.”

I burst into laughter, and he takes the opportunity to drag me under the showerhead, soaking me to the skin.

“There’s also a wedge under the door. Better hope it didn’t stick too fast or we’re never getting out.”

His hands wander over my body while he’s talking, and I tease, “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

The replying deep chuckle sounds ominous until I lay my head against his chest, the vibrations filling me with hunger for his touch.

“This dress is soaked through,” he says, sounding shocked. “You should get out of itimmediately.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to protest before he peels away the wet fabric, kissing each inch of skin he reveals.

“Such a dirty, dirty girl,” he whispers, the insults turning me as wet and hot as the shower. “It’ll take me forever to get you clean.”

And as I drag his mouth down to mine, all I can think is that forever sounds like the perfect amount of time.

* * *

The hotel roomis dark when I stir, curled inside Kincaid’s protective embrace. For a moment, I don’t know what woke me, then the sound echoes through the room.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

A noise like dry bones scraping across concrete.

“Fran-ces-ca.” The scratching grows louder, a worthless man’s last desperate fight to get free. It doesn’t care that this is a hotel room far from where he died. The singsong voice whispers from the walls, “Oh, Fran-CES-ca.”

Instead of reacting, I snuggle further into the warmth of Kincaid’s arms, my nose pressing against his strong chest. Knowing I won’t come to any harm while he holds me, both in his arms and in his heart.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Stupid mice.

Within a few seconds, I’m already halfway back to sleep.