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I wished I could see more of her face, not just the random parts that got lit from the passing cars and the streetlamps.

“Of course. It’s one of the nicest hotels here. It’s close to the arena. You’ll be able to walk there.”

“We did this afternoon after we checked in. I’ll be going there every morning for practice.”

She made the air in here smell so fucking good.

“Tell me, is the hotel in your favorite section of the city?”

“No. My favorite is South Boston.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “It’s a whole vibe with water views and a wild nightlife and a cool mix of everything and anything you’d want to do.” She went quiet for a moment. “It’s too bad you can’t have a couple of days with no practice.”

I chuckled. “My body would fucking love that. But mid-season, Coach is never going to let that happen. So, every day we’re here, we’ll use Boston’s arena and weight room and work around their schedule.”

One thing I could see—and I was fucking obsessed with—was her smile.

“Oh, I’m sure Boston is going to love that. The enemy on their territory—I bet they want nothing more.”

“We’ve shared our facility with other teams before. We know the unwritten rules. We’ll be respectful.”

“Will that even matter?” She turned her body more toward me. “You hockey players live to fight. Whether it’s on or off the ice.”

My arm lowered from her shoulders to her waist. “Fights find us.”

She laughed. “Right.”

“They do.”

“I grew up less than five minutes from here. Most of my guy friends who played hockey were hotheaded with a raging New England temper. I know how they think, how they react, and what sets them off. They don’t just stumble upon arguments.

They welcome them. And I’m not being stereotypical, but I’m being stereotypical.

Hockey has a type, and submissive, nonconfrontational, and relaxed aren’t it.

” She paused. “Unless you’re going to tell me the West Coast is different from the East Coast? ”

I rubbed up and down her sides, enjoying this conversation more than she probably realized. “I think both coasts are equally angry.”

“Just like I thought.” She tapped my chest. “Is that where you’re from? The West Coast?”

“LA.”

“Wow, it must be nice to play at home and be close to your family—if your family still lives there.”

My family.

Who were as well known in the food space as I was in the hockey scene.

Most of the people I spoke to knew me from both avenues.

It was refreshing to talk with someone who wasn’t drilling me about where our next restaurant was opening, or if we were looking at venturing into any new cuisines, or even inquiring about some dirt on my teammates—shit I wouldn’t talk about. Ever.

And maybe Jolie did know that my family and I owned The Weston Group—a collection of hundreds of restaurants and a few clubs—and that just didn’t matter to her. Or maybe she had no fucking idea.

Either way, I dug it.

“My whole family—my four siblings and my parents—all live in LA.”

“Hold on a second.” Her hand went to my shoulder. “You have four siblings?”

I laughed. “Three brothers and a sister.”

“Whoa.” Her fingers squeezed. “I only say it like that because I’m an only child. To think about growing up with four siblings is completely wild to me.”

“So is being an only child. What was all that quiet like?”

Her body returned to its previous position, her back resting along the seat cushion. “It gave me a lot of time to think.”

“I can imagine.”

“What was it like to live in a house that was super loud?”

I stilled my fingers as they were stroking her waist. “It gave me little time to think.”

“Ha! Do they come to your games?”

“Most of my home games, yeah.”

“I love that they’re there to support you.”

The SUV came to a stop outside the hotel. I opened the door, getting out first, and I helped Jolie to the ground. I thanked the driver and shut the door, walking her toward the entrance.

“I’m just warning you now, if we run into any of my teammates, there will be a comment. They can’t help themselves. We’re a bunch of inappropriate bastards with way too much shit to say.”

She smiled, the lights by the hotel’s overhang allowing me to see the shine of her teeth and the light blue of her eyes and the hint of flushness in her cheeks. “If it happens, I’ll try not to internally die.”

“Don’t do that. My team’s relationship is fifty percent hockey, fifty percent razzing each other. It’s me they’d be picking on, not you.”

My hand left her lower back and found her fingers as the doorman opened the lobby door for us. We went inside, immediately heading for the elevator. I hit the button, and as we waited, I watched her look around the large space.

“My home for these next three nights, which is nuts. I never thought …” As her voice drifted off, her gaze locked with mine. “You do know I have nothing with me except for this purse.” She lifted her wrist, where the small bag dangled. “No toothbrush. No change of clothes. Nothing.”

“Whatever you need, I’ll have delivered to the hotel.”

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside, where I hit the button for the top floor.

“Even clothes?” she asked.

I moved her toward the back, leaning her against it. My arms lifted, and my hands pressed against the mirrored wall on a spot above her head. And what that did was create a cage, Jolie in the center.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t wear any.”

Her brows lifted. “The whole time I’m with you?”

“Yes.”

“What about when I take you around Boston? You’d like me naked then too?” She smiled.

My face went to her neck. Given her age, I expected a scent that was light, fruity, even extra sweet.

Scents that did fucking nothing for me.

But what I inhaled off her skin was a sexy aroma, filled with vanilla and amber.

My eyes closed while I took another breath of her, and when I felt like it was enough—even though it wasn’t even close to enough—I placed my lips in front of hers.

This new position caused her to take a quick intake of air.

“Naked when we go out, no. I wouldn’t share what’s mine—and that’s what you will be over these next couple of days.”

“Yours. Huh .” She rubbed her tongue over the inside of her top teeth. “Does that mean we’ll be stopping by my dorm to grab clothes?”

“Your dorm,” I echoed. A seven-year age gap wasn’t an eternity, but if I considered the amount of life I’d experienced between twenty and now, it was.

Still, a fucking twenty-year-old? Jesus Christ .

“If you need clothes, I’ll have those delivered too.

You’ll want or need for nothing while I’m with you—I give you my word. ”

“I believe you.”

My hand went to her neck, and I tilted her face up at me. “You just need to make me one promise.”

“What?”

I rubbed my thumb over her bottom lip. “Over these next three nights, you hold nothing in. If you want something, say it. If you need something, tell me. If you want to scream, I want you to let it out.”

Her lips parted with my thumb still on them. “If I want something …”

“Let’s say … if you want me to lick your pussy while you’re taking a shower.

If you want to know what it tastes like to drink champagne off my dick.

If you’re coming so hard that you can’t hold in the moans, but you’re worried someone in the next room will hear you—those are the kinds of things I’m talking about. Hold nothing back.”

“God, you’re dirty.”

I let out a small moan. “Is that a promise?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Now fucking kiss me.”

I waited for her to close the distance between us, to put her lips on mine before I went in for a real kiss.

And once I did, I slid in my tongue, deepening what she was lightly giving to me, and that confirmed every question I’d been wondering—how she’d taste, how her mouth was going to feel, and how she’d react the second my tongue touched hers.

As I devoured her, her body went completely limp, and I held her weight against the mirrored wall. Her taste was even more incredible than I’d thought it would be, the feel of her exactly what I was looking for, her softness reaching a level of innocence.

But everything I was learning—like the fact that she knew how to move her lips, but didn’t seem overly experienced—told me she wouldn’t ever take charge.

That would be on me.

And that was just what I wanted.

I pulled back as the doors behind us opened, a quiet ding signaling that we’d reached my floor, and her eyelids slowly lifted, her hand instantly going to her lips.

Not to wipe them.

More like she couldn’t fucking believe what had just happened.

“Come with me.” I reached for her other hand and led her out of the elevator and down the hallway to my suite at the end.

I waved the plastic key card in front of the reader, allowing her to enter before I moved in behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and turning her toward me. “That wasn’t enough.”

Her hands went to my shoulders. “Our kiss?”

“The taste of you—I need more.” I picked her up, wrapping her around me, her body weighing nothing compared to the weights I lifted. I carried her through the living room area, past the balcony, and into the bedroom, setting her on top of the dresser.

“Looks like you’re wasting no time.”

“Do you remember what I said to you at the bar about time?” I gripped the wooden ledge on either side of her.

“It’s something you don’t have. Therefore, you don’t waste any when it comes to going after what you want. And right now, what you want is me.”

“Every word of that.” I put a finger under her chin. “Unless you don’t want me to ravage you …”

Her legs were still circled around me, and she tightened them. “That’s not the case at all.”

“What is the case, then?”

She moved her hair off her shoulders. “Do you just want to hear me say it?”

Even though my dick was fucking begging to be released, I still voiced, “I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you, Beck.”

I moved my lips to her throat, inhaling more of that erotic scent. “And what do you want me to do to you?”