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With that, his smile brightens. He slides off the bed, fixes his boxers back into place, and then holds out his hand to me. My eyes travel over his thick, muscular thighs to a pair of black boxer briefs that hug him in all the right places. His legs are so solid they look indestructible. I can’t imagine facing him on the ice. He’s a wall of man, most of his body blocking the net.
By the time I reach his chiseled stomach, I’m licking the drool from my lips. A low rumble echoes from his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s used to girls gawking at him. And why wouldn’t they? Look at him.
He opens a drawer and throws a pair of black boxers in front of me on the bed. Does he own any other colors? “Put them on.”
Clutching the cotton in my hand, I stare at him like he’s crazy. “Why?”
He sits next to me, the mattress dipping from his weight. “Because Shannon makes us breakfast every morning, and I thought you’d want to wear something else beneath my shirt.” He extends his hand to me. “C’mon. If we don’t get down there soon, we won’t have anything to eat.”
I slip into Drake’s boxers, and then he tugs on my hand to lift me off the bed. Once we’re in the hallway, I start to get stage fright. Nerves creep up the back of my throat, the bile almost choking me.
Drake notices my hesitation and stops. He cups the side of my face with his big hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Bex told me your friends slow clapped for her the first night she slept here with Preston.” I lean my back against the wall, and he lowers his hand. “I don’t want them to slut shame me for sleeping over.”
“One…” he says, holding up his long index finger, “… you’re not a slut to shame you. And two,” he says, adding another finger, “You’re with me. And I’ll kick their fucking asses if they even think about it.”
“Technically, that was three things,” I point out. “Not two.”
He shakes his head, his laughter filling the air. “What am I gonna do with you, woman?” It’s more of a statement than a question.
After a quick peck on the lips, he drags me by the hand downstairs and into the kitchen. Bex is at the table next to Preston wearing his clothes. She looks at me, shocked to see me wearing Drake’s. I grab the hem of Drake’s shirt. Bex does the same with Preston’s Strickland Senators tee. A silent communication is exchanged between us, and then we’re both laughing. No one in the room has any idea what’s so funny.
“Morning, twinsie,” I say to her, joking as I sit at the table next to her. “I see you have on the sleepover attire they must hand out in this house.”
We’re literally wearing the same hockey T-shirt. Except Drake’s boxers are black and Preston’s are navy to match the color of the shirt. Otherwise, we look identical.
Drake and Preston look at each other, confused until they realize what we’re talking about.
“Oh, shit,” Drake says, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, this was definitely accidental. We don’t have clothes lying around for when girls sleep over.”
“Oh?” I cock an eyebrow at him. “How often is that?”
He sits next to me and lowers his voice. “Never. You know that.” But when Preston glances over at him, he raises his voice and adds, “Because they don’t last that long.”
I pat his knee, deciding to play along. “Well, when you put it that way, I feel like I made it to the end of The Hunger Games.”
Bex snorts. “More like The Hooker Games.”
Laughing, I slap her on the arm playfully. “Shut up, bitch, or I’ll take out my bow and arrow and shoot you in the ass.”
Drake and Preston laugh at our exchange.
“You sure know how to pick ‘em,” Preston says to Drake talking about me. “I like this one.”
“Me, too,” Jamie says, dropping a plate of crispy bacon at the center of the table. “She actually knew what VR meant. Not like you losers.”
Drake squeezes my hand over his, pinning it against his thigh.
“I hope you like waffles,” Shannon says from the island at the center of the kitchen. “I made tons of them.”
“Yeah, love them. They served them every morning in the chow hall when my dad was stationed in Europe.”
“How many places have you lived?” Shannon asks, walking over to the table with Jamie, who’s carrying a plate of Belgian waffles.
“Umm…” I have to think about all the cities I’ve lived in over the years.
They take their places at the head of the table and pass out plates. Jamie and Shannon work as a team until every person has food in front of them.
