Gloves Off: a marriage of convenience hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 4)

I wake the next morning in Alexei’s bed, with his big arm looped around my waist and his firm, warm chest flush against my back. I’m warm, cozy, and so incredibly comfortable.noveldrama

Goddamnit. I sleepwalked to his bed again—I think? After we left the bar, we got into the back of the car Alexei booked on his app. I don’t remember getting home, though. I just remember being warm and comfortable. Gentle hands around my ankles, taking my heels off. Being tucked into bed.

My bed or his, though?

I shift to crawl out of bed before he wakes, but his arm tightens around me, pulling me against his body. My breath catches; he’s hard like steel. Heat slides south between my legs, gathering and tightening, and I picture a million things I would do to that cock. Touch it, trail my fingers over it, run my tongue up it. Take it all the way to the back of my mouth so I can hear him groan. Ride it. Watch him fall apart.

Memories from last night roll through my head. That life-changing kiss. Sitting on his lap at the bar. Our conversation.

He never thought I was incompetent. He thought I was hot. His feelings were bruised over what I had said. That changes things—I think it might change everything.

“Morning,” he murmurs into my shoulder, like his rock-hard boner isn’t pressing into me. His voice is a low, sleepy rasp.

“Morning.” I try to sound normal, like I’m not so turned on I can barely think. I try to sit up, but he holds me against him. “Did I, um⁠—”

“Sleepwalk? Yes.” A pause. “You know what this means, Hellfire.”

My stomach does a slow roll forward. “Very funny.”

“I wasn’t kidding. What if you sleepwalk and hurt yourself?”

“I’m not going to hurt myself.”

I glance over my shoulder. His hair’s a mess, eyes all sleepy, under-eye circles still there, and god, he looks handsome first thing in the morning.

Last night’s kiss was different. Real, careful, and special. Something flutters in my stomach.

Far away in my head, an alarm goes off. What part of this is detached?

His eyes move over me, a tiny spark growing in them. “Lionhead.”

“I’m sorry?”

The corner of his mouth tips up. “That’s what you look like in the morning. A lionhead rabbit.”

I start laughing, smoothing down my bedhead. “So, heartbreakingly adorable?”

His mouth tips higher. “Something like that.”

My face is going hot. This is too intimate.

“You hate me,” I point out, smiling a little.

“I do hate you.” He smirks like he doesn’t, though. “But you’re cute when you wake up.”

Something in the corner of the room catches my eye.

“Alexei.” I sit up, frowning. “What’s Damon doing in your room?”

He doesn’t look surprised to see my giant bunny lounging on the chair by his bed. “I left the door open and he hopped in here.”

My heart stops like I’ve found my size shoe at a set sale. He’s being nice to my bunnies? That wasn’t on my bingo card.

“You said they stink.”

He shrugs, eyes on my hair again. “They do, but they’re growing on me.”

The way he’s looking at me right now makes me want a repeat of last weekend, after the awards ceremony. The way he made me come so many times I couldn’t see straight, couldn’t think straight.

It’s happening again, I realize. It’s not just sex; I’m starting to like him.

Detached, my survival instincts screech.

“I should get ready for work.” This time, when I slip out of bed, he doesn’t stop me.

“Georgia? You sleepwalk when I get hurt, don’t you?”

I freeze at the door, stomach sinking. I knew I shouldn’t have told him the real reason I transferred him to another doctor. He told me the thing about getting hard during our exam—oof, I’m going to be thinking about that a lot—and I was so proud of him for how he worked with Luca, and I just—I don’t know. When I told him about medical school and why I didn’t want to get married, he listened, so I had the urge to tell him more. Let him in a tiny bit further.

I don’t like this, though. I don’t like him seeing right through me. Seeing all the things I don’t want to acknowledge.

Staring at the floor, I nod, before I head to my room without another word.

A bouquet of coral roses arrives in my office that afternoon, and I don’t even need to look them up in the book.

Coral roses—fascination.