Page 46 of Her Puck Daddies

If this was Coach, I’d deny this tooth and nail. But our office manager has one hell of a sense of humor. I should be able to get away with some subtle sarcasm.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I deadpan, and beside me, she stifles a giggle. Gotcha.

She takes her phone out of her pocket and pulls up the screen she needs. I lean in, faking that I’m not looking. She scrolls to Levi’s room, and right before she zips past it, I notice that Ava’s room is 1098. Score.

“It’s 1089,” she says aloud because Cecille really is a gem. She helps me out with reading whenever she can.

“You’re awesome, you know that, right?” I offer her my most charming grin.

She grins back. “I’m aware.”

From there, it’s a matter of sneaking off without being caught. Now’s the perfect time since everyone’s so distracted by the party.

So I don’t fuck this up, I say the number of the room to myself. “1098. 1098. 1098…” I murmur as I ride the elevator down a couple of floors to the one most of us are staying on. The hotel has a narrower configuration than most, so half of us are on one floor while the rest are on another.

Her room should be down at the end, but since I’m not the best with numbers, I count the entire way. With evens on one side and odds on the other, I mumble them under my breath, keeping my voice low.

“1090, 1092, 1094, 1096, and yeah, 1098.” Then, I knock.

But no one comes to answer. Could Ava be in the shower? Or maybe she’s playing her TV loud. I press my ear to the door but hear nothing. Not a sound. Maybe she has earbuds in. I knock with more force, this time chancing to call out her name.

“Ava? Ava, you hear me?”

Nothing.

I go from knocking to banging on the door with my fist. “Ava?”

“Eric,” comes a voice from behind me several doors down. It’s her. But what’s she doing over there in room 1089?

1089.Of course.

Annoyed at myself, I rush over before I can fuck anything else up. “Hey, can I come in?”

She’s in yoga pants and a T-shirt—dressed, technically. Not that I’d mind if she wasn’t, except I need to keep my blood from rushing south. The memory of that lace lingerie she wore in Newark flashes through my mind, and my cock stirs in response, straining against my trousers.

Sorry, buddy. Not tonight. Gotta focus.

“Why?” Her hesitation is obvious. And now that I’m paying attention to the way she keeps glancing up and down the corridor, I start to wonder if she’s expecting someone else.

“Waiting on company?”

“No.” But she’s still scanning the hallway, eyes flicking to the generic hotel artwork and the soft glow of the overhead lights.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she snaps, lips pressing together.

I’ve tasted those lips, and my pants grow even tighter. Maybe it’s the hotel setting messing with my head, but my dick refuses to get the memo that nothing’s happening tonight. Normally, I can keep things in check when I’m on her table. Sure, I get a bit of a boner, but it’s manageable. Closing my eyes and pretending she’s Greg usually does the trick.

“I need to ask you a question. A personal question. But it doesn’t have to take very long.”

I watch as she strokes along the column of her throat. Now that I know she recently swallowed Levi down that same throat, my dick rises before I can stop it.

Knock it off. Not happening tonight.

“Fine.” She steps back to let me in, and I notice her TV is on but muted. “I’m glad Levi’s doing better,” she says.

“Yeah, me too.” I’m pretty sure everyone is.