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“Where am I sleeping?” Emma hooks her arm through her brother’s, peeking up at him with those pretty green eyes that slice right through me.
“Down the hall from River.” He heads toward our rooms with Emma beside him. “I’m on the other side of the apartment. I’d put you next to me, but both rooms are full of junk.”
She nods. “Yeah, whatever.”
I pat her on the back. “I’ll take good care of you, Em.”
Emma snorts, a defiant expression on her beautiful face when she glances over her shoulder at me. “I’m sure you will, River. Do me one favor while I’m living here.”
“Anything.”
“I’d rather not see the skank parade you bring home with you.” She flashes a cheeky grin. “So if you could keep that to a minimum, that would be great.”
Oliver chuckles. “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll be on my best behavior while you’re here.” He holds up three fingers and says. “Scout’s honor.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart. I never bring women home.”
She raises an eyebrow at my confession. It’s not because I’m saving myself for marriage, or some crazy ass shit.
“I don’t shit where I eat,” I tell her.
With her back to me, she groans. “The last time I stayed here, Brady came into Ollie’s room while I was sleeping. He asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend, so he could get a puck bunny out of his bed.”
A roar of laughter escapes my throat. “Ollie didn’t even come home that night,” I commented. “Yeah, I remember that night. It was right after we won the Stanley Cup.”
We enter the last room on the right side of the corridor, leaving Emma’s suitcases in front of the closet. She plops down on the bed, her short legs dangling off the side.
Ollie sits next to her and slides his arm across the back of her neck. “You gonna be okay, Ems?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”
“If you need anything, River is right there.”
He points at the open door to the bathroom that adjoins our rooms.
Her eyes widened. “Oh. When you said next door, I didn’t realize our rooms are… It’s okay.” She waves her hand to dismiss the abandoned thought. “I can lock the door, right?”
“Are you afraid I’m going to sneak into your bed in the middle of the night?” I quip.
She rolls her shoulders, unsure if I would cross that line. “Never know with you, River Westbrook.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Emma Bradshaw.” I inch toward the bed, hovering over her. “You can keep the door locked if it makes you feel better. I don’t care.” I give her a quick grin. “You’re welcome in my room any time.”
Emma presses her lips together.
Fuck, those sweet pink lips could kill me. I want them wrapped around my cock, taking every inch of me. Making me come so hard I see stars.
Head in the game, River.
“This situation sucks,” Emma says, her eyes fixed on me. “But we can make the best of it, right?”
I stuff my hands in my pockets and nod. “We’ll figure it out.”
She glides the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, knowing how to work every nerve in my body. Maybe I should reconsider locking my door. I have to stay as far away from her as humanly possible while she’s eating. Just the thought of her naked and wet, with the water running between her perky breasts…
Fuck, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I’m going to cave at some point, and then River will kill me. Brady will have to plan the funeral. And the whole fucking team will be out of sorts. Because that’s exactly what will happen if I sneak around with Emma behind Ollie’s back.
Ollie shoots up from the bed. “After you get settled, come chill with us in the living room. You look like you could use a drink.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “You must read minds.”
He grinned so widely it reached his eyes. “I know you better than you know yourself.”
She slid off the bed and walked toward the door with Ollie. “Please tell me you have some vodka.”
I follow behind them, feeling like the third wheel whenever they are in their twin bubble. When they get together, it’s like no one else is around.
Our other roommate, Brady O’Shea, is in the kitchen, bent over in front of the fridge. He’s digging through the bottom drawer for lettuce that expired last week. His groans fill the air when he pulls out a head of romaine that’s partially black.
“Fuck,” he mutters, then tosses the bad food into the trash. “There’s nothing to eat in this fucking house.”
“Let me look,” Emma says. “I’m sure I can find something decent to make a meal.”
Brady releases a sigh of relief and leans down to hug Emma. Only when he’s hangry or horny is he this affectionate with women.
