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Which was part of the reason I didn’t move, and ended up falling asleep with his arms cocooning me, shielding me—and his hardness still deep inside me.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I opened my sandpaper eyes to a very warm, very chiseled chest.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
“For fuck sake, turn that off,” Trey mumbled still mostly asleep.
Luckily, my brain kicked in and I remembered where I was and where I needed to be this morning.
“Crap, we have to go.” I tried to sit up but was hindered by a very strong arm clamping down on me.
“No, stay,” he said, pulling me back to his chest. I had to admit Trey’s chest was a good place to be.
“I have to get back for practice. And we leave tonight,” I told his chest.
“Fuck hockey. Let’s just stay in bed the rest of our lives.”
I pushed up and kissed his shoulder. “Hockey is my life. Get up, I’m going to grab a quick shower before I check on Dad.”
I’d showered last night, but after the couch activities—well, I’d kind of gotten dirty all over again.
I slid off the bed, naked. Then I realized I’d fallen asleep in Trey’s arms—with Trey still inside of me. And I didn’t remember waking up and walking to bed.
Trey must’ve carried me.
I shivered as I turned on the shower to warm it up. I slipped my hair up into a messy bun and stepped under the warm water and I allowed myself a minute to wake up before I started washing.
How I was going to leave my dad here—alone—to fend for himself, with no supervision—I didn’t know.
A good daughter would stay and help him get through whatever the heck had triggered this latest episode.
A good daughter wouldn’t choose her sport over the only parent she had left.
But, that was exactly what I was doing.
I finished up my shower, dried off, and rushed back into my bedroom to get dressed.
“Trey, for real, get up,” I snapped at the hot, sexy, prone hockey pro asleep in my bed.
“No, come back to bed. It’s too early. We’ll catch a later flight,” his voice was muffled as he spoke half into the pillow.
“I’ll leave without you, then. I’m not being late,” I warned him. I picked out a pair of jeans and a tank top. I added a warm sweater that I could easily remove halfway into the flight.
Trey still hadn’t moved by the time I was done and ready.
“I’m going to check on Dad, and then I’m leaving,” I said haughtily, and swung my backpack over my shoulder.
I sniffed the air and smelled—what was that? “Do you smell smoke?” I inhaled again, wondering what the heck it was.
