Page 112 of Make Me Laugh

Comment: In Hex we trust!!!!

Comment: Just porn in word form

HexedHeroine comment reply: I love when women take charge of their sexuality. Almost as much as I love exposing gross men on the internet. Is this you in my DMs, Gregory? What do you think your wife would say about this? Let’s find out!

Comment reply: Hex is so back, y’all

A Baltimore based comedy podcast reaches out to Enzo, hoping to have West as a guest on Wednesday before his long weekend of shows starts.

Monday night after Frankie left, I get an email from a five-star hotel, hoping to treat West and his team to a stay in their penthouse for the weekend while he’s performing in the area. All they ask is that they’re tagged in a post or two after our stay… Which gives Hex and West Parker the perfect opportunity to collab for the first time.

We check in Tuesday night, using the few hours before we go to bed early catching up on work that got ignored for binge watching movies on the townhouse couch.

The podcast said they’d film for social media and would share files with me to post, which means I don’t have to go if I don’t want to.

I decide to lounge before getting some more admin work done when the boys leave and it’s quiet. I’m kicked back on the couch, enjoying our penthouse view of downtown Baltimore, reading my second book in a genre I’m not typically drawn to, but I’ve taken a sudden interest in hockey recently.

West comes out of the master suite after a shower, the scent of his freshly sprayed cologne assaulting me—not in a he’s wearing too much way—in a stop fucking smelling so goddamn good way!

His scent dulls my senses, slowing down my reaction time. I sit up, gasping when I come face to face with him leaning over the back of the couch.

“Hi,” he says, glancing over his shoulder to scan the room before hopping the backrest and straddling my lap.

My Kindle goes tumbling, but West catches it before it hits the floor, gently placing it on the coffee table. He’s got the reflexes of an athlete still, along with the mass and weight.

I wiggle under him. “West, get off me,” I hiss quietly, my heart racing from his close proximity and at the possibility of getting caught.

He ignores my demand, taking it as a request. “Do you know what I’d give to stay here with you today?” His stare stops the fight in me, my hands falling to his legs.

The rippling muscles underneath his pants are exactly what I’d expect from a hockey player’s quads. “What position did you play?” I ask, seemingly out of nowhere.

He cocks a brow. “Center. Why?”

I nod, envisioning him in his uniform. It’s a delicious image, especially when West’s on top of me, smelling good and looking stupid hot like always. “Do you have any pictures?” I reach for my phone. “Better yet, let me Google some.”

West stops me, cupping my cheek in his hand sweetly. It’s contradicting the devious smile he wears. “What, or should I say, who’s got you so curious about hockey?”

I forget I’m supposed to be worried about someone walking in on us. I lick my lips, watching his eyes fall to them like I knew they would. “Mmm, no one in particular⁠—”

He catches the end of my sentence in his mouth, the surprise of his kiss erasing every thought from my mind. It’s fast and hot, his hand sliding from my cheek to my neck, applying not nearly enough pressure before I feel like the wind’s ripped from my lungs.

West is off me in under a second. I tumble back to reality, holding my breath so I’m not panting when I hear the reason West is now on the other side of the room, casually looking through the fridge for a drink.

“Is Kell meeting us there?” Enzo asks.

I’m white-knuckling the blanket in my lap, trying to process what the fuck just happened.

We almost got caught, that’s what.

West looks over his shoulder, not a hair out of place. “As far as I know.” He grabs his favorite energy drink. “Anyone want anything?” He turns to me, and I stop breathing. “You look pale. Do you need a juice?”

The sound of his can opening encourages air to reenter my lungs, and I try to talk at the same time. “Nope, all good.” My voice makes me sound definitely not-good. I clear my throat and smile, grabbing my Kindle from the table. I pretend to read while West and Enzo talk about the guys who run the podcast.

It’s a big deal. A couple million streams a month.

Part of me wants to go, to be there to support West… but his social media team isn’t needed today. And sure, I’m his friend, but I’m not his girlfriend—not really. I can support from here. Like a friend would.

For the record, I’ve never kissed a friend the way we just did.