*Click.*
The sharp, heavy sound of the door lock snapping into place echoed through the quiet space, cutting off the distant, muffled bass of the party downstairs. My head snapped up instantly at the sound.
My chest tightened in a sudden, suffocating grip—not just because Mikel had pushed the door open and shut it behind us, but because of exactly where he had taken me. When I whispered for him to take me somewhere to change, I expected a guest bathroom, a communal locker room, or maybe a disorganized laundry area. Instead, we were standing in a massive, lavishly decorated bedroom suite.
And right in the center of the room sat a massive king-sized bed, complete with silk sheets and an elaborate arrangement of dark red rose petals meticulously shaped into a giant heart.
"Mikel, what is this?" I breathed, my voice trembling as my eyes darted around the room.
He didn’t answer right away. He slowly walked over to the bed and carefully placed me down on the edge of the mattress. The velvet-like petals crinkled beneath my weight, and my mind immediately went completely bonkers.
Why is there a heart on the bed?
Is this his room?
Did he set this up beforehand?
Panic, mixed with a sudden, dizzying rush of adrenaline, surged through my veins. Was he trying to have sex with me? I mean, I couldn't deny the obvious: he was breathtakingly handsome, all sharp jawlines, messy blonde hair, and broad shoulders that practically radiated heat. A part of my treacherous brain even whispered that the friction and warmth of his body could definitely help soothe the deep, shivering cold rattling my bones. But I wasn’t ready for that. We had rules. We had a strictly professional arrangement.
I swallowed hard, my throat completely dry as I watched him step closer, towering over me.
Mikel leaned down, his green eyes burning into mine with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. Then, his large, warm hand slipped behind me, gliding slowly and deliberately up my bare back where the sheer kimono had parted.
My breathing became incredibly labored. The heat of his palm sent a violent shiver straight up my spine, completely unrelated to the cold water. My gaze instinctively shifted downward, locking onto his lips. They were parted slightly, just inches away from mine. For a fraction of a second, the temptation to just lean in and let the current pull me under was overwhelming.
No. No, I couldn’t do this! I couldn't let myself become another conquest, another temporary fix in his playboy lifestyle, no matter how much my heart was hammering against my ribs.
Suddenly, a jolt of panic gave me a burst of strength. I planted both of my palms firmly against his solid chest and pushed him off with everything I had, scrambling backward and getting frantically onto my feet.
"What is wrong with you?!" I yelled, my voice cracking with emotion as I pointed a shaking finger at him. "Stay away from me!"
Mikel stumbled backward a few steps from the unexpected force of my shove, but managed to get a firm grip on his balance before he actually fell, straightening his spine to his full, imposing height.
His brows furrowed in deep, utter confusion as he looked at me, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. "Why did you push me off?" he asked, his voice low and genuinely baffled.
"I-I don't know what you're thinking," I stuttered, my hands gripping the edges of the oversized towel to cover as much of my hot pink swimsuit as humanly possible. "But I am not one of those girls you can have so easily! I won't let you use me or take advantage of me just because I'm wet and freezing. I won't let you!"
The confusion in his brow crept even lower, his eyes scanning my defensive posture and my flushed, panicked face. For a long, agonizing second, the room was completely silent.
Then, his chest began to heave and without another word, he burst out laughing.
It wasn't a mocking laugh, but a rich, deep, genuine chuckle that vibrated right through the quiet suite. He shook his head, running a hand through his damp hair. "You really have such interesting thoughts, Ghost Writer," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
"What is so funny?" I snapped, crossing my arms defensively.
"Brianna, I only brought you in here because this is the team captain’s private suite, and it's the only room with a lock where people wouldn't barge in on you," he explained, his laughter finally dying down into a low rumble. "And as for my hand on your back... I was only trying to help you dust away the loose rose flowers that got stuck to your skin when I carried you in. You had petals glued to your back when I placed you on the bed."
My jaw dropped. The heat in my face instantly amplified, turning from a blush of anger into a scorching wave of absolute mortification. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. He hadn't been trying to make a move; he was literally just cleaning debris off me.
Before I could even attempt to stammer out an apology, the laughter completely vanished from Mikel's face. A slow, dangerous, and incredibly wicked smirk appeared on his lips.
His green eyes darkened as they slowly scanned my body, tracing the lines of the damp towel, the peek of vibrant pink fabric, and my long, bare legs.
The air in the room suddenly turned thick, heavy with a completely different kind of tension. He walked deliberately back toward the bed, stopping right where I had been sitting.
Slowly, sinfully, he placed one knee on the mattress, leaning his weight forward so he was closer to my level.
"But..." he muttered, his voice dropping into a deep, incredibly sexy register that sent a thrill straight to my core. "If you want something else, Brianna... I'm always down. I wouldn't want to keep my fake girlfriend from getting satisfied. If you're craving some warmth, all you have to do is ask."
The sheer boldness of his words made me swallow hard. For a wild, reckless second, my overactive writer's imagination took the bait visualizing his large hands gripping my waist, pulling me against his burning skin, his lips completely devouring mine without any rules or boundaries to hold us back.
The mental image was so vivid, so spicy, that it made my heart do a dangerous flip.
I violently shook my head, snapping myself back to reality before he could read the desire clear across my face.
"In your dreams!" I yelled, though my voice lacked any real bite. "You wish, Mikel!"
Without waiting for his response, I whirled around, pushed him away from my path, and ran toward the nearest door in the suite. I grabbed the handle and shoved it open, praying to whatever deity was listening that it wasn't a closet. Thankfully, a beautifully lit, modern bathroom greeted me.
As I rushed inside, I could hear Mikel’s deep, triumphant laughter echoing behind me before the door clicked shut.
I ran straight to the marble sink, gripped the edges, and stared at myself in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed a violent, dark red, and my eyes looked wide and wild.
What on earth was wrong with me?
Why did he have this much power to rattle me?
My heart was beating so incredibly fast against my ribs that I could feel the pulse in my throat, and no matter how many deep breaths I took, I couldn't control it.
Turning on the cold tap, I cupped the refreshing water in my hands and splashed it directly onto my face, trying to wash away the memory of his smirk and the intoxicating weight of his presence.
I rested my forehead against the cool mirror, shivering out a long, ragged breath. He was dangerous. Writing about fictional male leads was one thing, but dealing with a real-life, living breathing alpha hockey captain who knew exactly how to push my buttons was a completely different story.
“Knock. Knock,” The sharp rap on the wooden door made me jump.
"Get lost, Mikel!" I yelled at the door, my voice muffled by the towel I was using to dry my face.
"I would," Mikel's smooth, amused voice drifted through the wood panels. "But I'm currently holding a pair of fresh, dry clothes for you. Of course, if you don't want them, I don't mind. But I'm pretty sure you're not ready to wear those soaking wet clothes again. And unless you're planning on showing me your nakedness when you walk out... which, by the way, I wouldn't be complaining about at all..."
"Shut up!" I shouted, cutting him off before he could get any more descriptive.
How shameless could one person possibly be? He was entirely impossible. Yet, despite my internal scolding, my cheeks were already betraying me again, burning hotter than before.
Realizing I couldn't stay locked in the bathroom forever in a damp swimsuit, I walked over to the door. I unlocked it, snapped it open just a few inches, and thrust my hand through the gap. Mikel was standing right there, holding a neatly folded, thick grey hoodie and a pair of matching sweatpants.
Before he could say another word or flash that maddening smirk, I forcefully dragged the clothes right out of his hands and snapped the heavy door shut directly in his face, locking it with a loud, definitive thud.
"You're welcome, sweetheart!" his muffled voice called out from the bedroom, dripping with satisfaction.
