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“I’m here to check in, but I need to add a room to my account. A room next to mine. Please.”
I handed the man my passport.
“Ahh.” He nodded.
“Two rooms?” I held up two fingers.
He typed something into the computer while I waited. I didn’t know if it would be too difficult to ask for joining rooms. I decided to let it go.
“These should both be on the Revolution account.” I felt slightly guilty for spending company money for my Olympic sexfest.
He handed me my passport and two room keys.
I pulled my bags onto the elevator and rode the few floors to the room Revolution had booked for me. The rooms were next to each other. At least I’d be able to keep an eye on him.
I stuck my key in the lock and walked inside. As soon as I saw the door connecting our rooms, my heart beat wildly. All I had to do was unlock it and Lachlan could walk in here anytime he wanted.
My hand fell to the handle. I didn’t know whether to unlock it or not. I didn’t know if I was going to go through with the arrangement. Was I really willing to let him control me in bed? Was I ready to give myself over to him?
And then I remembered this morning. I remembered how he took me. How he took his time with his tongue. There was a deep flutter in my core and I knew there was only one answer. I’d keep that door unlocked as long as he wanted to be in my bed, or invite me into his.
I clicked the lock open and started unpacking before I had to meet my fake womanizing boyfriend at the stadium.
15
Lachlan
“What now?” I asked as Aspen ushered me into a car outside the stadium. The quick Q&A with the press had gone well. I didn’t slug anyone and with Taylor and Alex next to me the questions focused on the tournament not my personal scandals.
“Now we go back to the village and get your bags.”
“What do you mean, love?” I stretched my legs.
“You’re moving into the hotel with me until the end of the games.”
“Worried you’re going to leave me with the other wolves?” I grinned.
“You are the wolf. Nothing good can happen for you in there. I cleared it with your coach. You’re not the only one staying outside of the village.” She peered at me from the corner of her eye. “Without an agent, you’re going to have to count on me for your public relations. This was my first executive decision.”
If she expected me to be angry, she was wrong. I hated the village.
“I’m not used to counting on anyone. I learned a long time ago not to make that mistake.”
She turned to face me while the driver whipped us through the streets that led to the athletic housing complex.
“How is that possible? You play a team sport. Of course you count on people.”
“I’m the keeper.”
“So?”
“So.” I stared hard. “I don’t need anyone. It’s between me and the bloody striker who has the ball.”
“That’s a rather dark and isolated way to view your sport.”
“It’s the truth. When someone is coming toward me, it’s my job to protect the box—no one else’s. It’s man versus man. There’s no one holding my hand or patting me on the back when the ball is kicked toward my face. There’s no one there to catch me so I don’t land in the metal or get tangled in the net. It’s only me. I’m the one I have to count on.”
“I think I’m starting to understand why your team thinks you’re such an asshole.” She crossed her arms.
