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

I’m listening to my wife’s slow, steady breathing, trying to ignore my hard-on and fall asleep when she rolls over and lays across my chest.

I open one eye, body going taut and alert. “Doctor?”

“Warm,” she murmurs with a sigh, eyes closed and breath skating across my bare chest.noveldrama

Just like last time.

A shudder of pleasure rolls through me. She’s right, she does run warm. I try not to think about what she would feel like under me, looking up at me as I sink into her.

My groin aches with need again. I wish, under her clothes, she was covered in oozing sores and boils, or scales like a lizard, instead of soft, smooth skin. There are freckles all over her chest from the summer. A few on her thighs. I remember those from Hawaii.

You’re about as attractive to me as a sack of potatoes. I can’t believe I said that. No wonder she thinks I’m an asshole.

I should wake her up. Like last time, she’d be humiliated. That’s not as appealing as it should be, though. Concerning.

I can’t lie here all night with her on top of me or I’ll never get any sleep. Careful not to wake her, I shift her off my chest and back to her side of the bed.

Two minutes later, she’s on top of me again, clinging to my chest, one leg sliding between mine.

I groan. This isn’t working, and I like this too much. I push her back to her side, haul myself out of bed, and lie down on the sofa. My feet hang off the edge, but I’ll still get a better sleep here than with the doctor’s hair in my face.

Soft hair, I should add. Soft like silk.

Tomorrow, I’ll tell Ward her snoring keeps me up and we need separate rooms.

I’m just starting to fall asleep when I hear the rustle of sheets. The doctor lays down beside me on the sofa, arm looping around my waist, head against my chest, light violet scent washing over me.

I sigh, frustrated. We’re going to be playing this game until dawn.

Resigned to my fate of being up all night with an erection so hard it hurts, I lead her to the bed, climb back in beside her, and wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her to me.

We’re not cuddling, I tell myself, ignoring how her body feels tucked against me, her perfect ass nestled against my cock. I move my hips back. I’m not enjoying this. I don’t even like her.

So she works more than I realized. She still transferred me to another doctor because she assumed my career would be over soon. She still recommended the team cut me loose.

We’re complete opposites and any attraction I feel to her is misplaced.

I force myself to relax and fall asleep, praying she doesn’t wake up.

The next morning, I wake with her tucked against me, breathing softly, warm and smelling like violets and vanilla, her hair brushing my arm. I’m on my bad shoulder, and it hurts from the game last night. My erection aches with need, pressed into that perfect ass of hers.

Still, I’m more comfortable than ever. That was the best sleep I’ve had in ages.

A warning feeling grows inside me. I ease away from her and head to the shower to get rid of this erection before she sees it. Under the spray of the water, I come picturing her on her knees, mouth tilted in an irritating smirk as she takes me between her lips.

When I get out of the shower, she’s up and dressed—thank fuck.

Her gaze darts to me. “Any problems last night?”

I hate that I came thinking about her. If she knew, she’d laugh and laugh, her ego doubling. With the urge to even the score, I almost tell her about her sleep-cuddling me.

It feels like a low blow, though.

“Nope.”

She lets out a soft breath of relief. “Good.”