Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 45

BRAYDON’S POV

I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Not even a damn minute.

For someone who has three classes today, hockey practice, and a paper due tomorrow, I’m really testing how far I can push my body before it crashes.

And if you’re wondering why…yeah, it’s because of Katy Evans.

That girl.

She’s been living rent-free in my head for weeks, and last night? She took the penthouse suite. Honestly, one of these days, she’s gonna be the death of me.

I used to be the guy who had everything figured out. The guy who could walk into a room, flash a grin, and walk out with a number or two. I knew what I was doing, especially in bed. Not to sound cocky, but I could make a girl lose her mind with a single finger. Hell, I once thought I could turn an asexual person sexual if I wanted to.

But after meeting Katy, I’m now questioning every damn thing. So much that I actually spent five hours last night staring at the ceiling, wondering if all the times I thought I was good in bed, I was just fooling myself. Two hundred times-give or take-and now I can’t stop thinking, were they all faking it?

That thought alone messed with my head more than I want to admit.

And as much as that stung my ego, the thought that the only reason Katy almost fucked me last night was because she was tipsy, straight-up killed it.

The image of her sobering up and looking at me with regret, maybe even disgust is stuck in my mind. It’s just there, looping on repeat like some messed-up memory. My d**k wouldn’t even harden to take a piss this morning. Yeah, that’s how bad it got.

I’ve come to the conclusion that she loathes my body. I don’t think she sees me the way I see her. She probably hates how close we’ve gotten, hates that her body reacts to mine. I can tell she only enjoys being around me when I’m teaching her about sex, when we’re in lesson mode. Then, she can hide behind curiosity, like it’s academic or something.

But I’m not trying to exploit that side of her.

I want her to want me. Not because she’s curious, not because she’s tipsy. But because she feels it, like really feels it.

Because when that happens, when Katy Evans finally wants me the way I want her-God help me, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.

A sigh rips out of me as I open my hotel door and sling my duffel over my shoulder. Here’s to another day of pretending she’s not killing me.

“Hey, Braydon.”

Talk about the devil.

I drag in a breath and turn, forcing my face into something that looks like a smile. “Hi, Peach.

She stops in front of me, her hair pulled into this messy ponytail that works for just her and her scent wraps into my nose. Always roses and caramel. I swear I’d know she was close even if I were blindfolded.

“Did you sleep well?” she asks, like she didn’t completely destroy my mental stability last night.

“Uh, yeah,” I say.

“Good, because you’ve got a long day ahead.” She taps my shoulder lightly, her lips curling. “I checked your schedule. Good luck, you’ll need it.”

I give a half-laugh that sounds more like a cough and my stomach’s twisting itself into knots because she’s doing it again – acting like nothing ever happened. Same polite smile, same easy tone. She’s not avoiding me, not awkward, or even flustered.

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