As they sank to the floor, sated, exhausted, both still floating a bit, Shelby blocked out that little voice that was already starting to whisper evil nothings in her ear. It was just the one last time. It may have meant more to her than to him, but that was okay. It wasn’t like a relationship between the two of them could work out. They’d both worked too hard to get to where they wanted to be in the hockey world to lose it all now.

“Stop thinking so loud.” He dropped the used condom in the nearby trash can and then scooped her up and carried her to the bed. “Nap first. Round two second.”

She loved the sound of that, but it probably wasn’t the best plan of action. “Who said you could stay the night?”

He sat down on the bed with her, pulling the covers up over her. “Do you want me to go?”

Ignoring the warning siren blaring in her head, she told the truth. “No.”

He smiled and tucked an arm around her waist, pulling her in snugly against him. “Good.”

Unlike at the cabin, Ian was out in minutes while she stared at the ceiling for an hour wondering what was going to happen next before finally drifting off without any answers about what was going to happen next.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Shelby was in a world of shit. She was smelling a hotel pillow. Also, she was wearing the hoodie Ian had left behind when he’d hurried out of her room shortly after dawn. Okay, shortly after round three and right before the team’s morning skate.

After finally setting the pillow aside, she reached for a leftover room service chocolate croissant and scrolled through the morning hockey headlines on her phone. Maybe there was some sort of My Strange Addiction episode she should apply to be on—pillow sniffers anonymous. That had to rank right up there with the one about the people who ate their own couch cushions.

A text notification popped up on her screen accompanied by a picture of a sparkling emerald green Mustang Shelby GT350 with a crisp white racing stripe down the middle of the hood.

Roger: How’s my favorite mustang?

Shelby: Purring like I’ve just pulled onto the straightaway.

Damn, it was the truth. Who knew orgasms and midnight room service could do that for a woman?

Roger: That’s what I like to hear. Any trouble finding those meetings on the road?

Shelby: Smooth sailing.

She’d gone to a church basement meeting in Denver and another in Vegas. Both had the same bad coffee and stomach-settling coming-home feeling. Even after six years, that sense never went away. Meetings may not always be a comfortable place, but they were always a safe place.

Roger: And the rest of things? Job?

Shelby: Job’s good. The rest? My head’s above water.