He released me, pushing himself up to stand and I swung my legs over the edge of the couch with a yawn. My eyes travelled to the Night Keeper tattoo on the back of his neck with my gut twisting. He’s one of them.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep there,” he muttered, his hand slipping into his sweatpants and rearranging his junk as he strode away into the bathroom at a brisk pace.
I was left with my throat dry and my nails biting into the couch either side of my legs. He was pissed. At me? Maybe. Maybe not. It wasn’t my fault we’d passed out together and I couldn’t say I regretted it either. Coach Monroe clearly felt differently.
When he returned from the bathroom, the air between us grew thick, neither of us saying a word. He strode into the kitchenette and I watched his back muscles flex beneath his wifebeater as he silently made coffee.
“Milk? Sugar?” he grunted eventually and I replied yes to both.
When he planted my coffee down on the table before me and sat on the furthest chair away from me, I knew I needed to say something.
“It’s no big deal, you know?” I said, picking up my coffee and blowing gently on the surface to cool it down.
He watched me with his throat bobbing. “It can’t happen again.”
I rolled my eyes and his jaw pulsed.
“I mean it, princess,” he growled and the deep tenor of his voice made my toes curl up against the carpet.
Ooh, I like when he means stuff.
I nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced, surveying me like I was a fire on his couch about to burn his house to the ground.
“I’d better go.” I stood up, grabbing my phone from the table and hunting for my bag.
Monroe was on his feet in the same moment, placing his coffee down and staring at me like he had a thousand things he wanted to say.
I found my bag on the floor, overturned with the contents spilling out of it and I huffed, dropping down and gathering everything up. The silence was making my ears hurt and I just wanted to get out of here before this got any more awkward. I snatched some leggings from the landslide of stuff and tugged them on under Monroe’s shirt.
I finally stood up, stuffing my phone into the chaos of my bag and turning to the door, finding Monroe standing in front of it. My heart juddered and I clutched the strap of my bag tighter.
His jaw was tight and his eyes hauntingly dark. “I broke a rule,” he ground out.
My lips parted and a laugh suddenly escaped me, breaking the tension. “Well, I’ll let you off this time.”
I moved toward the door, but he didn’t get out of my way, his eyes travelling down me and making my skin come alive with energy.
“I’m a Night Keeper now,” he said in a low tone and my eyebrows rose as I realised he was being serious. “Punish me, princess.”
Fuck me, those words from his lips were like an aphrodisiac, making my pulse sky rocket and everything south of my waistband clench deliciously.
Before I knew it, I’d let my bag slide from my shoulder and it hit the floor with a thud, following my instincts which were driving me toward him like a missile. There was only one way forward. Only one way that made sense.
“Alright.” I grinned tauntingly and pointed to the couch. “Sit down.”
He stepped past me, his arm brushing mine and making goosebumps tumble across my body as he obliged, lowering down onto the couch.
I chewed on my lower lip, wondering what I was going to do to him, coming up with a million filthy thoughts which I definitely couldn’t act on. I wasn’t going to hurt him. He’d done nothing wrong in my eyes. But if he wanted to play this game, then I was ready to indulge him.
I grabbed my scarf from where it was hanging with my coat beside the door, walking up behind him. My throat constricted as I leaned forward and wrapped it around his eyes. I tied the soft black and red scarf behind the back of his head, my heart drumming as I relished having power over this heavenly man.
My thumb fell to trace over the tattoo on the back of his neck and he shivered visibly like my touch was a live wire against his flesh.
I headed away to the kitchen, hunting the fridge and smirking as I found a can of whipped cream, walking back to him with it at a steady pace. He sat up straighter as he heard me approaching, his chest rising and falling as he waited for me to pounce.
“Are you scared, Nash?” I teased, moving to perch on the coffee table in front of him.
“Not of you,” he growled.
“But of something?” I questioned, my brows tugging together as I leaned towards him, my breath feathering over his cheeks.
He nodded in admission, but said no more.
“What?” I whispered, desperate to climb inside his head and read his secrets.
“Of making bad decisions,” he said in a low tone.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose to attention and I leaned in even closer, breathing in his scent of fresh pine until I was heady. “You should have more faith in yourself.”
He said nothing and I doubted I’d get any more out of him so I gripped his chin, tilting his head back.
“Open your mouth,” I instructed.
He hesitated for only a moment before he did as I said. I tipped the can up, squirting it into his
