Dirty Talker (Slayers Hockey #4) - Mira Lyn Kelly Page 0,39

the white hotel towel at one hip while he uses another to rub his hair dry. He gives me a funny smile that probably has something to do with me standing in exactly the same spot he left me in before he showered. “Huh.”

“Huh, what?” I take two steps back. One to the side.

And realize I’ve moved to a spot in the room so remote and useless, it probably hasn’t been occupied in all its years of existence.

“Just something Axe said.” Wade’s eyes flick over me, crinkling at the edges before he disappears into the front room. A minute later, I hear the pull-out groan under his weight. “Night, Good Girl. Sweet dreams.”

Chapter 15

Wade

All yesterday I waited for a sign that Harlow was seeing me differently. That with time to think, she might realize she wanted more. That this thing between us was too good to cap off at one night. That a connection like ours couldn’t be ignored.

Nothing.

By the end of the night, my ego was walking with a limp, complaining about the cold. My lifetime sentence to the Friend Zone about to be handed down, I was trying to be cool, because I didn’t want to be the dickhead making everything weird. I didn’t want to be the reason we couldn’t be friends… because if that was all I could have, I’d take it.

But then we got back here.

And she got weird.

It was nothing I could put a finger on exactly. More like a subtle tension that hadn’t been there before.

A possible weak spot to exploit.

Except I didn’t want to put a move on her only to have her freak out and push me away after. I didn’t want her to leave. I didn’t want to lose her.

And that’s when I remembered the dumbest, most asinine advice I’ve ever gotten.

Be the bunny.

Now it’s morning and I’m in bed, thumbs grudgingly moving over my phone.

Me: Asshole.

Axe: So it worked.

I want to be mad, but damn. The look on her face last night.

Me: I thought you were fucking with me.

Axe: Yeah, I was.

I blink. Blink again. Nope, that’s a twitch.

Axe: But the more I thought about it… laughing to myself for hours and hours and hours… I realized it might actually have some merit.

Me: Say goodbye to your teeth.

Axe: Nah, these chicklets are safe. You love me. And it worked.

Me: Yeah, it worked.

Axe: Not that well, if you’re texting me at five in the morning. Unless her head’s bobbing under the sheet. In which case, bad form, man.

Me: I’m alone. Don’t be a dick.

Me: I didn’t try it until late last night.

Axe: Ahh. Operator error.

I roll my eyes and send him a picture of my middle finger.

Axe: Are we done here… or were you seeking more of my wisdom?

I don’t want to do it. But damn it…

Me: Have you got any bunny tips?

Axe: Hold on, let me ask Dina.

What? Two seconds later, I know.

Axe: This is D

Axe: Tp1 wrk yr mouth

Axe: lots

Axe: mve it

Axe: tuch it

Axe: bite it

Axe: open cls it evn if u dnt tlk

There’s no way… except this is Axe and so yeah, it’s entirely possible the person texting me is some bunny named Dina… and that until seconds ago, she was bobbing under the sheet while he texted with me.

Christ.

Axe: Tp2….

Harlow

What is wrong with me?

One night. That’s all I wanted.

Some fun with a man as serious about keeping the complications out of his life as I am about keeping them out of mine.

It should have been perfect.

Six times should have been enough.

So why is it that every time I cross paths with Wade today, instead of seeing the man I respect and enjoy as much as any friend I’ve ever had… all I see is my own personal walking, talking Tumblr fantasy come to life?

It’s not him. I mean, of course it’s him. But he’s not doing anything different.

He’s still pulling the same boyfriend moves. Still attentive and friendly. Still making me laugh and smile.

But somehow, everything feels different.

From the second I peeked into the front room of the suite this morning and found him reading in bed, bare-chested, hair in such sexy disarray it was impossible to see it without imagining my fingers in it, my brain has been off.

Twitchy.

Twisting every innocent act into a moment rife with dirty potential.

It started with the bare chest and bed head, but then there was that whole business with his fork. The man was eating. But every time I caught a glimpse of his tongue touching the tines of