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Where the hell is the clasp?
I groan still not finding it.
“Oh, oops.” She giggles holding up the clasp at the front.
Feeling defeated, I collapse on top of her to take a minute.
“This is really not my night.” I groan.
It’s like one thing after another. I just can’t get a handle on anything.
I’m stumbling where I normally excel.
If this was a game I’d be benched. They’d have to put my replacement in and call me washed up.
Chapter 8
Lenny
Nick looks so dejected when he can’t find my clasp. I completely forgot what bra I was wearing.
He smiles when he looks up at me with his chin resting on my chest. His gorgeous gray-blue eyes pierce into me.
“Let’s just take it slow,” I say.
Not meaning we should stop at all. I want this. I do.
Nick is fucking hot, but I know this is all it’ll ever be. I’ll take what I can get.
Years from now, I can tell my grandchildren how I hooked up with the legend Nick Miller before he was a hockey god.
Ok, maybe I won’t tell my grandchildren. I don’t think they would want to hear about grandma’s sex life, but I will definitely brag about it to all my friends.
His face scrunches up looking so disappointed. He thinks I’m saying we should stop.
I didn’t mean it like that.
He sits up and tilts his head back against the wall. His eyes close as he takes a couple of deep breaths.
I didn’t mean to stop. I don’t want him to stop.
How do I fix this?
He opens his eyes looking at me like I’m a sad puppy he has to leave behind.
“Listen, you’re great, but…” He starts.
Fuck.
I know that tone. I know that line.
I know this isn’t some romantic tryst where we fall deeply in love or end up being boyfriend and girlfriend.
I’m not naïve.
This is just one night. One second night together. A ‘Hey, last time was good, let’s do that again and never talk kind of thing.
I am more than ok with that. Nick isn’t a boyfriend. He isn’t a relationship guy. At least not for me.
